Real Merewives (Triton)

"I look forward to seeing where your ingenuity leads you. Somewhere unexpected is my hope."

Within the Senate building, various ministries have their offices. Likewise their guards and of course functionaries. The foyer includes a very polite young lady with bright eyes and dark hair. Her clothing looks both official yet fetching. And she smiles. "How may I help you, honored guests?"

Triton leans over her desk and smiles as he talks.

"That beautiful smile is already helping. But I am actually in need of direction. I'm not entirely sure who to talk to here. Do you all have a court mystic adviser or spiritual leader maybe. I am investigating the change in the merewives behavior. So whoever you think might provide the most information in that regard would be helpful."

She looks a tiny bit puzzled. "Merewives." Clearly the word is new to her. "The Lictor's office is down the hall and to the right, the door with the golden 'L' on it. They generally handle magical matters on Gont, and certainly liaison with experts in sorcery."

"That sounds like as good a place as any to start. Try not to miss me too much when I'm gone," he winks.

Triton leads the way down the hall to the appropriate door and enters without knocking.

The Lictor's Office turns out to have a small (pony-sized) Sphynx on a pedestal. It opens its eyes and glances at them.

"State your business please."

The sphynx blinks and says "Merewives are sea creatures the roam the waters near Amber. Incredibly dangerous to approach, at least if you are healthy and male. No one has ever escaped their clutches. In fact, the first born son of Oberon was taken by the creatures in ancient times yet that mighty monarch never managed to gain his revenge. We have records about the merewives as well as other supernatural perils of the known seas, but we also have an enchanter on-staff who has studied their ways. Something of a pet subject of his. To which of these resources would you like to have access at this time?"

The Sphynx shrugs. "I'm a generalist." Then she touches a pad on her pedestal. One part of the panel wall slides open. "The Enchanter is at the third door to your left."

Beyond the door, the hallway turns out to be S-shaped, but sure enough there are a series of doors and the third on the left reads THYMM. As Triton tries to knock, it swings open.

The room proves to be a strange one, more like a cross between a balcony, a cave and a hanging garden. Furnished with books, desks, chairs, an assembly of bizarre items that might mean or do anything. Drawings and paintings are attached to the walls, while pieces of sculpture dot the tables and niches all around them. A transparent dome immediately above floods the room with sunlight. There's a staircase off to one side, while the center is open. A fountain is on the floor below while another level (seemingly pretty much like this one) is above.

Coming down that staircase is the enchanter Thymm. Or at least he looks like he should be an enchanter. If he's the butler it is a waste of a great enchanter look. Tall, thin, a long dark beard with a white streak down the center. Matching bushy eyebrows. Tattered floor-length robes, of maybe a dozen different shades of dark gray. A headpiece with two ram's horns on either side.



He stops, looks them up and down. "So," he says with a strong accent, "here be a creature of the sea walkin' about with some vampire filly. Tha's never a good sign." He trills his Rs with great skill and pronounces about as aboot. And shakes his head dramatically.

"Already reading bad omens are we? I would think that sea folk and vampires wandering together would peak your interest. I will assume that you are Thymm. Do your abilities tell you why we are here or would you like me to explain?" Triton smiles.

"Well, from the snooty way you said all tha'," the man says, "I'll be' you'rrrre a prrrince orr something like i'. You two have a sea'." He gestures and two comfy-looking but mismatched chairs slide out from some corner. "Wha' arre you two wanting of me? As I hope you've figurred ou' forr yourrself, I am the one called Thymm." With that, he draws out an eleven-inch wand from his sleeve, which almost instantly transforms into long wooden staff. One tap on the floor and Thymm momentarily seems surrounded by a swirl of sparks, thousands of them in a spiral, all in different colors as they fade away.

He shrugs. "I know -- t'isn' subtle and t'is a bit tacky. Bu' the plebes seem to expect i'." Another tap on the floor and another comfy chair slides to where Thymm sits down. "So. Wha' can I do forr you?"

Triton can't help but find himself amused and the quirky man.

"As matter of fact, we are both royalty. But that is neither here nor there. I have been charged with investigating the merewives in an attempt to figure out why their dance has changed. Lady Sylvia has been kind enough to join me on my adventure. So, if you wouldn't mind, what do you know about the merewives?"

"Aaaahhhh, the merrewives is i'! Well, you've come t' the righ' enchanterrr then!" He taps his staff three times on the floor. A cabinet opens and a platter floats out, landing on nearby tiny table. A clear bottle of unusual design filled with some kind of blue liquid, and four little glass goblets lie on the platter. Thymm pours himself a glass. "You'rre welcome to trry this. I's called Rromulan Ale and has go' a kick like an angry rrabid mule!" He downs his glass, all of a finger's worth and shudders as it goes down. "Stuff'll put furr on the tongue of a sharktapus tha' will!" Then he sighs.

He leans back. "Alrigh' then. Tell me wha' you know about merrewives t' begin with. No poin' in me rreapea'in m'self."

Triton gives the ale a try and takes a quick breath in through his teeth after he swallows.

"That does have some kick. As for the merewives, I know what every boy of the ocean knows."

Triton explains the tales and legends that he grew up with. All that he knows of the powerful ladies of the sea. And he also explains about the shift in their dance.

"Well if you know all tha' then you should also know King Oberron tried to wipe the crreatures ou'! And failed! He was no' the failing type, your grandfather!" At this the enchanter broods for a few moments. "Firrst off, you should know sometimes the merrewives rrefuse to take a man. As you," he points to Sylvia, "probably already know. Those who've felt the bi' of a vampire, any who bear some sorr' o' currse, the old and the infirrm, the too-young and any claimed by cerr'ain kinds of other superrnatural beings arre safe enough. So arre some sorrcerrorrs." This last word involved a very impressive amount of trilling of the tongue. "Bu' only some. No one knows why. Meself, I'd say therre's a tiny hin' in tha' the few such who've avoided such a doom were each verry old and verry powerful, but morre--they each had some special relationship to the sea. No' tha' tha's a guarrantee though. Tha's why it no' bu' a theorry!"

"As to the dance...! I don' think they would shift theirr dance, no' when they haven' for thousands of yearrs. Morre like, wha'everr t'is they follow, some currrren' or ebb and flow tha' we cannot perrceive has changed. Think on'i'! These beings don' have the same sor' of fearrs and desirres you and I have. We can' even be surre they even think! But forr yearrs now, I've no'iced how things in Shadow have been se'ling in the wake of the war be'ween Amber and Chaos. Whole worrlds ended up gone! Otherrs jammed togetherr and became weirrd new places! Me, I suspect somewherre in the sea, something opened orr maybe closed. Something deep. Something fundamental. Like afterr an earrthquake, you get landslides and things. The merrewives, they rresponded to wha'e're i' was."

"Think man! Think of the sheerr size of Shadow! I's like rripples in a lake. Bigger the lake, the longerr it takes a rripple to rreach shorre. Mind you, tha's no' even the rreal problem. If something changed the Dance o' the Merrewives, then wha' we rreally need t' do is find ou' wherre i'is they'rre going!"

Thymm snorts. "Wha' makes you think the change happened at Amberr to starr' with?"

But then, after barely a moment's thought, he says "Getting them back on trrack? No idea. Well, you could have yourresf anotherr Patterrnfall Warr if tha's rreally wha' you'rre afterr. Me, I don' think tha's too brrigh' an idea. As to wheree the beasties arre going...!"

He grabs a piece of paper and a pencil, making a quick sketch. It clearly shows the general area of the local seas. Then he grabs a map from one of the shelves. It shows some of the same area, but also a lot more of the general vicinity of Amber and Rebma. On that map there's a series of arrows in red ink. Triton easily recognizes that--the Dance of the Merewives.

"See herre," says Thymm, "this is wherre they seem t' have moved, out away frrom Amberr's waterrs and out into new waterrs. You no' how their Dance makes a spirral sor' of movemen'? Well, look -- to spo's wherre they've been seen." He makes a tiny X on his new map in about half a dozen places. Then, he takes out a red pencil and draws the same kind of spiral pattern so noticeable in the first map, the one with the original Dance. The new spiral he draws touches everywhere he already put an X. "The dirrection of the Dance, tha's changed. Bu' not the nature of i'. If they keep going they they've been, the crreaturres should be headed into the Jagged Sea. And a good thing too! Harrdly anyone everr sails into tha' place! Full o' rreefs and everry single coastline nothing but sheer cliffs!"

Triton watched the maps and diagrams closely. He finds himself fascinated and amused by the old wizard. Scratching his chin absentmindedly as he thinks, Triton looks back up at the old man.

"So the dance is the same, but they are moving in a new direction. Maybe we are looking at this backwards. Perhaps it is not what pushed them away from their current spot, but more what is drawing them to a new location. If we assume that the Jagged Sea really is their destination, the question begs, what is there that they might want? Or if we continue their path, what else might they be after? Any ideas?"

Triton looks over the maps, trying to figure out in his own head what the merewives might possibly be after. Also, as much as he can in the world of shadow, Triton tries to figure out if his father's Pattern is in that direction.

"Look, folks have been trrying forr centurries t' figurre ou' wha' the merrwives wan'. Otherr than theirr prrey, no one rreally has a clue. As forr the Jagged Sea, tha's a place hardly anyone everr goes. And morre than half those wha' do neverr come back to tell the tale! Folks living on eitherr side o' those waterrs arre pretty much nomads o' varrious kinds. One is jus' this grrea' big island, bu' the other ends up nex' to this huge was' wherre bunches o' monsterrs dwell. No one who did come back said therre was anything worth finding on the otherr side. Just more waterr. Mind you, no one's trried since the Patternfall so maybe thing's'rrre differrent now?"

Triton half looks over at Sylvia when he speaks.

"Monster islands and mysteries huh? Well that almost sounds too good to be true. I might have to check that out. Especially if there is a post Pattern Fall war shift that no one knows about. What do you think Lady Sylvia, wanna go exploring?"

"I've never been to this Jagged Sea, nor seen what lies beyond." By now Triton knows this means yes.