Msaka spent the better part of a month working at a rigorous schedule of physical and magical training. Rare was the day that passed without a long swim amidst and under the waves, testing both his limits and the capacity of the scientist's breathing apparatus. When not so engaged, he sought out the remnants of the dragon pillars and the shrine in which the beast itself had been imprisoned, probing the latent power that still remained in them and using that knowledge to strengthen his own spellcraft.

He also made a point to speak with as many of the locals as he was able, particularly those who might have some knowledge of the tritons and their ways. The fishermen proved to be an excellent source of tales, though he was hesitant to put too much trust in their words, knowing full well the exaggerations that tend to creep into stories told by such folk. More reliable was the knowledge held by the magically gifted of the city; one of the local healers was able to furnish him with rough directions to the entrance to their homeland, having been the one to ferry the hero of the previous year to their island.

The vexing question of what he might offer the tritons had also been solved - or so he hoped - as he learned all of these things. It was clear enough that the tritons distrusted land-dwellers, and that the peace between both sides was still rather tenuous. Between his new knowledge, and the magical lore of his own people, he had bent a few strictures and crafted a spell which he hoped would prove to be an acceptable trade for the hair that he needed. He carefully neglected to report this last fact to the shaman when performing the far-speaking rite, knowing full well that the shaman would never agree to allowing even a hint of those secret rites to fall into the hands of outsiders, and even the suggestion of doing so might well jeopardize his future among his people.

It was with some trepidation that Msaka finally made the journey to that island, paying one of the fishermen to sail him there and await his return - provided that it came within a reasonable amount of time, of course. These waters were more dangerous than those in Silmaria's harbor, and while Msaka was reasonably confident of his ability to ward off the dangers of the area, the fisherman was less certain, perhaps even expecting to make the trip back to the city alone.

There was nothing that Msaka could do about that, though. As prepared as he expected he would ever be, he bid the fisherman a hopefully-temporary farewell, donned the breathing apparatus, and slipped into the azure waters of Silmaria's southwestern reaches.

Fortunately, he had no need to descend into the lightless depths, as the entrance to the tritons' city was to be found amidst the shallows of the island. Though he knew the general location in which to look, it still took him several hours to find the artfully worked entrance, a solidly-wrought tube capped by a heavy double door. A simple divination and a quick heave against the doors proved that they were both warded against magical means of opening them, as well as having been reinforced to prevent even a large creature from prying them apart. It wasn't a surprising revelation in light of the intrusion by this route during the previous year, and a slight smile crept onto Msaka's face. As he had hoped, the wards were similar to those that had once sealed the dragon temple's doors, and were nowhere near as complex or as powerful as those ones had been.

A bubbling incantation passed through his lips as he passed his hands over the doors, weaving his own unseen lines of power into those that held the doors in place. It took several minutes of exacting concentration, but his labors were rewarded as the two spells intertwined and unravelled one another. A simple spell of opening was sufficient to deal with the physical constraints upon the doors, and they slowly parted, revealing the darkened passage beyond - much to the surprise of the triton patrol that was approaching from its depths, only vaguely visible even to Msaka's keen sight. "They have learned that lesson, at least," he thought as he watched them approach, their tridents held warily at the ready.

The leader called out to him in a voice that was edged with anger, and perhaps a little bit of fear at confronting someone powerful enough to dispel their wards, "Who are you to intrude upon our city? We have not forgotten our pact, air-breather! Or have you come to shatter the gift of the Queen?"

Treading in position, and holding himself to what he hoped was a nonthreatening pose, Msaka called back, "I am Msaka of the leopardmen, of the distant land of Tarna. I am not here to break your pact with the city, and I would have knocked if I thought you'd answer." He hesitated for a brief moment before continuing, fighting down the last doubt about his course of action. "I've come to offer you a trade. My people need a few strands of your hair to create an artifact that will allow them to defend themselves from the creatures that are ravaging my homeland. That's all I want, and you have my word that your hair will not be used against you in any way. We have no interest in your territory, or even that of the nearby city."

The triton leader was listening to his speech, which was as good a sign as he could have hoped for. Taking a breath, he continued. "In return, I offer you a spell that I have crafted. I know that you're wary of the humans who live near here, and why. This spell will allow you to pass undetected among them, in their own form, so that you can keep watch on their doings, and know well in advance if they plan to move against you." He waved his hands towards the open doors. "The fact that I was able to open the way, here, should speak to my skill, and so to the power of the spell that I'm offering you. Will you at least consider my offer?"

The triton leader stared at him for several long moments, clearly weighing his words. Msaka kept silent, understanding that if what he'd already said wasn't sufficient, then any further words were unlikely to sway the creature. Finally, the triton spoke, lowering its trident slightly as the words slowly drifted through the water.

"It is an... interesting proposition," the triton replied. "I have never seen your kind before, which lends some truth to what you say, though the price you ask is... unusual. Nevertheless, I am inclined to accept it, on one condition. You will, in return, give me several strands of your own hair. I, in turn, give my word that they will not be used against you, so long as you uphold your end of the bargain. Do you agree?"

It was Msaka's turn to pause. He was all too aware of the possible harm that could be visited upon him if he agreed to the deal, and he still wasn't entirely certain of the use that the shaman intended for the triton's strands. But turning down the offer would be as good as admitting to bad faith. A knot began to form in his stomach as he realized that he had little choice but to extend his trust to this being, for good or ill.

"Agreed," he said quietly. "I shall give you the spell, and a lock of my own hair, in return for yours."

The exchange took but a few moments, and he was soon swimming back towards the shoreline where the fisherman awaited his return, bearing with him the final object of his quest.