I never knew her, and any time the topic would arise, he would be evasive at first, then downright blunt in his refusal to provide details. All I ever managed to extract from him was that I was born in Zazesspur, and that as long as he lived, we would never return there (though passing nearby never seemed to be a problem). Being the pragmatist he was, Father ritualistically avoided big cities as much as he could; he always claimed that there was nothing but trouble to be found there. No matter to me, as I was more than happy to entertain a village or a small group of traveling merchants with a whistle than battling with the teeming hordes of musicians and performers to be found in the bigger venues.

So, we wandered the southwestern coast for most of my younger years, traveling as far as the towns surrounding the Lake of Steam and the Border Kingdoms. There are countless wonders there, the southern folk having a fierce independent nature, as well as a fierce hunger for news and stories from all over Faerun. It was there that my voice began to change from the fine high alto of a boy to the firm tenor of a young man. Father was always there to accompany me, and cover my inevitable mistakes while nature had it's way with my maturing voice. And so, slowly I became the leading talent of our family, Father quietly and gradually yielding to my increasing flamboyancy and penchant for expressive clothing and behavior. Father had even begun training me in rapier combat (with generous remarks about how using anything broader and heavier just wasn't civilized), figuring that with my personality and audacious disposition, combat of some nature was inevitably in my future. It was a wonderful time.

It was also during our time at the Lake of Steam that I realized my voice and musical skills had a peculiar effect. With my eyes closed, recounting the epics of the Time of Troubles and the Tuigan hordes, I could almost sense a higher order, a power that permeated everything; when I sang or played or even told a story a 

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