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To begin at the beginning, I am the third daughter of my mother and the first child of my father, who was the youngest and favorite husband of my mother, a redoubatble woman who remains, as far as I can know from my prison here in the Lok’Groton Islands, a merchant of some renown in my natal town. My father was a fisherman and sailor. He passed into the arms of the She Who Moves the Seas when I was only a young swimmer, lost at sea like great Fishwah. But the story of my childhood is perhaps better left for another time as Thoomish tales are long.

I was apprenticed to Master Storyteller Shellwah when I reached the proper age (ah, noble Shellwah; that is a name that stirs the memories and imagination, is it not?). With him I studied singing, languages, history, cartography, fencing, dancing, netmaking – in short, the usual. After seven years, my master proposed me for Guild membership, and I was accepted. As a journeywoman I retraced the voyages of Fishwah from his youthful ventures on his fabled ship the Pearl, to the discovery of the Treasurehouse of Lost Akbek, the journeys with his wife, Navigator-Mystic Gellfra, the years as First Admiral and Commander in the Tlane Wars, and finally to study the mysterious and tragic final voyage.

Having unearthed several admirable tales from Fishwah’s time (the reader will no doubt remember the popular “Song of Sorrow, Lith’ranael” which was among those I brought back from the sea cave cache in East Jeshtran), I found myself something of a celebrity. Nothing loathe to take advantage of good publicity, I gathered a group of talented musicians, dancers, and swimmers and formed a Thoomish Troupe. For some years we traveled the Empire, among the most sought after of companies.

But how, you ask, did Tuert go from such success to exile? How from triumph to these bleak islands? My friend, times are dark in the empire. Necromancy, undead abominations, and fear are the tools that the emperor has chosen to use to hold his power, though he has hidden the extent of his evil from most of the citizenry. Seeing this, could I be silent? Let us be frank. I am unlikely to be silent on any topic, let alone one of such purport. Invited to perform at the Solstice Celebration by then Viceroy Klegg (a thoroughly unpleasant woman), I accepted with alacrity. ‘Raela Fletcher’s Tale,’ the story of a young archer who destroyed a Sorcerer Prince, freeing her people but at the cost of her own life was my text. Raela’s dying words left the audience silent a moment, almost afraid to breathe. Then some bold soul in the back began to cheer those stirring words, the applause began, and I received a thunderous ovation.

Suffice it to say, the emperor’s minions (in particular Klegg) were appreciative of neither my selection nor the reaction it received. Upon leaving the dais I was arrested. With the obscene rapidity that characterizes the Imperial justice, I was exiled to the distant Lok’Groton Islands for attempting to incite rebellion. It gives me some satisfaction to note that the Viceroy did not live to hear that sentence pronounced.

I hope and believe that the spark of rebellion that I saw in city, town, and village in my travels smolders still in our homelands. Here in this unlikely spot I have found many kindred spirits. With them I study, learning new skills and honing old ones in the hope that some day I shall be able to return to the Imperium and join those who fight the Emperor.

I do have a few ideas about how to escape from this place and return to the fray, but perhaps they are best left for another time.