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Lei had already left the room.

Lightning shattered the night, and Lei winced as thunder rolled around her. The Kraken’s Wake pressed forward through the storm, shuddering with the impact of each mighty wave. As Lei closed the hatch to the lower decks, a gust of wind broke through the invisible wards, almost knocking her down. Nature and magic were at war, and without the spells woven into ship and sail, the Kraken’s Wake would be torn apart. The wind howled again, and Lei wondered how long the mystical defenses could hold against the anger of the storm.

The sooner I’m back below, the better, she thought, carefully making her way across the deck.

“I give you greetings, daughter of air.” Thaask’s harsh voice rang out over the wind. The sahuagin was standing by the rail, and he drew a claw across his teeth as he gazed up at the storm-clouds. “He hungers.”

“He?” Lei cried over the wind. She gazed up at the clouds for a moment before she realized. “The Devourer.”

Thaask said nothing. A massive wave rose out of the darkness, and Lei instinctively raised a hand to shield herself. Thaask just watched as the wave shattered against the Lyrandar stormbreaker wards, leaving only a dense mist.

Lei lowered her hand, slightly embarrassed. “I finished the sound-stone,” she said, reaching into her pack and producing the carved sphere.

The sahuagin’s eyes were pale and golden, set far apart on his wedge-shaped head. He fixed her with one eye and held out a hand.

She pressed the stone into his palm. It was designed to draw music from the mind of the bearer, and as Thaask took the stone Lei heard faint strains over the wind and crashing waves—an eerie wail, the sound of glass and water. The sahuagin closed his eyes, listening in rapture. Then he hurled the sphere out over the water. For an instant she could still hear the music, then song and stone were swallowed by the darkness.

Surprise and anger were balanced against a lurching sense of loss. Lei had spent days working on the stone, shaping each groove with her mind and soul, and for an instant she felt as if she were the one flying into the maelstrom.

As the strange vertigo swept over her senses, another wave struck the ship and Lei slipped on the slick wood, sliding toward the railing. A strong hand caught her shoulder. Thaask was still facing the water, watching her from the corner of an eye as he held her steady.

Vertigo was replaced by comforting anger, and Lei knocked his arm away with a furious gesture. “Why did you do that?” she shouted. “I spent days on that stone—”

“When he hungers, loss is inevitable. The wise choose the loss.” If Thaask noticed her anger, he chose not to acknowledge it. His eyes remained on the sky.

“You threw the stone in the water because you’re afraid of the storm?”

Now Thaask looked at her, golden eyes glittering in the lightning-flash. “No fear. Respect. Sacrifice is loss. We make our sacrifice in faith, we choose what is lost. Challenge and he chooses.” He looked back at the sky.

Lei opened her mouth then closed it again. The storm did seem to be abating, the wind dying down. Coincidence, no doubt, but she gave whispered thanks to Arawai all the same.

“The reefs ahead are dangerous enough when he is calm,” Thaask said. “Your ship would not have survived his anger.”

“So? I thought your people would loot the wreckage?”

Thaask turned back toward her. “You made the gift. You kept your word, and I serve the memory of those gone before.”

For a moment they stood silently, watching the quieting waves. Lightning still flickered on the horizon, but the seas were calm once more.

“I still don’t understand,” Lei said at last. “How can you worship the Devourer? In my land we respect Arawai, the goddess of the land. The Devourer—all he does is destroy.”

“You create a goddess where none is needed. You have your gods of war and peace, but peace is what comes when war stays his hand. He is the fury of the storm, but he is with us in this calm. We were born from his belly, and when he hungers