Hundreds of grey
forms frothed the water, tails and fins gliding through the troughs. Plumes of
water were expelled high into the air from blowholes. Then, as graceful as
temple dancers, the creatures dived beneath the waves. Their second boat, Windsong, bobbed like a cork behind them
and, though many passed nearby, none of the creatures collided with either
hull.
One specimen
surfaced between the two boats, close enough that if Setka had stretched out
his sceptre, he could have touched it with the golden falcon head. A huge eye
appraised him for several heartbeats and Setka held his breath before, with
hardly a ripple, the creature descended into the depths.
A haunting sound
filtered over the slap of the waves. Lord Weserkaf cocked his ear and
whispered, “What spell do they weave?”
Prince Setka
smiled. “I believe they’re singing to each other under the waves.”