Rising Tide by Mel Odom Page A

heart, she was sahuagin.
    She’d helped him manage that masquerade only through coercion, and even now it didn’t set well with her. After she’d found him, he’d made her spend two years with him in the Veemeeros where she’d found him, teaching him about Faerun. Everything seemed new to him, but he was careful not to reveal anything about his own origins. Even Laaqueel’s spy training hadn’t helped her gather information about him.
    Once they’d returned to her village, he’d used his powers to turn himself into a sahuagin hatchling, and she’d introduced him into a hatchling area. He’d maintained his own development in the village, but had kept contact with Laaqueel. She had named him in the brief ceremony after the surviving hatchlings were introduced into the tribe, giving him his own name at his request, though it wasn’t a sahuagin name. Everyone in the village had believed it was because she was malenti, wanting to flaunt her difference, but Baron Huaanton had allowed the name to stand.
    Now, though, Baron Huaanton was King Huaanton and Iakhovas, though only age thirteen in the sahuagin years, was a prince. Normally it took almost three hundred years to attain such a rank by serving the community and taking advantage of events that transpired, but he had used his magic and curried favor with Huaanton by maneuvering a duel with Huaanton’s senior and killing the last prince in battle. Unable to take the position himself because of the sahuagin code regarding such advances, Huaanton had become prince. Huaanton had also realized how dangerous Iakhovas was for the first time and had stood behind Iakhovas’s bid for the baronial vacancy. None of the other chieftains had tried to challenge his right to do that. When Huaanton had slain the last king and taken over the position, he’d promoted Iakhovas again. Laaqueel had never discovered if it was because Huaanton feared Iakhovas, or if the sorcerer had helped place Huaanton on the throne.
    “Oh, little malenti, do you have such a small faith?” he asked.
    “No,” she admitted, choosing not to react to the insult. Her faith resided where it always had: with Sekolah. She had received no sign that she wasn’t doing exactly as the Great Shark wanted her to, “but the forces arrayed against us are formidable.”
    He turned and gazed again out across the harbor. “Those forces are only formidable when pitted against a lesser opponent. Make no mistake, little malenti, I’m not that and never have been.” He smiled, oozing confidence. “No one these days has ever seen anything like me. Even in my own day, no one was like me.”
    “But to take Waterdeep …” Laaqueel said.
    “Stand corrected, little malenti, we’re not taking Waterdeep,” Iakhovas said. “We’re presenting the surface world their options, throwing down the gauntlet so to speak. The surface dwellers need to be put on notice that they’re living near these waters only on my sufferance. I will take back that which is rightfully mine no matter how many of them have to perish.” He touched the patch covering his empty socket unconsciously. “I will be made whole again, and I will reclaim my proper station as the oceans’ master.”
    “If we can’t take the city, why send all these sahuagin to their deaths?” she asked.
    “More humans will die this night than sahuagin,” he told her. “You have my promise on that.”
    The way that he always referred to the humans as their species, and a despised one at that, let Laaqueel know he didn’t consider himself one of them. For awhile she’d thought he might be of elven blood, but he had the gills and webbed hands and feet of a sea elf and used magic as easily as a sahuagin spilled blood. The accursed sea elves knew no magic except for that granted to their priests and priestesses.
    He offered no clue as to what he truly was.
    His power of illusion was incredible, steeping him in layers of deceit and trickery. She wasn’t certain if