The Sea Devil's Eye, page 31
part #3 of The Threat from the Sea Series
"Well, and they're surely promising a heated welcoming if we're the wrong 'uns," Khlinat said.
"We're not."
Pacys guided his mount toward the ship, the seahorse straining only a little to catch up to it. When he drew abreast of the caravel, he found himself looking up at half a dozen bowmen with only tattered mercy and trust left in their souls.
"State your business and be quick about it,"7 a woman dressed in black ordered from the railing.
Tin here to see Jherek," Pacys called up.
"How do you know him?"
Tin Pacys the Bard. I'm a friend."
The woman glanced at the sea elves. "We haven't seen too many friends lately," she said, "and damn few of them promise to come from under the sea."
"Lady-" Pacys began.
"Captain." The woman's voice was unrelenting.
"As you will, Captain. As Oghma is my patron, I'm only here in Jherek's best interest." Pacys kept his voice loud to be heard over the slap of the waves breaking against the ship's bow and the whip-crack of the canvas pulling tight in the rigging. "I know that he's wasting away, unable to control the darkness trying to consume his soul. I promise you, if you don't let me come aboard and speak to him, you're going to lose him. We'll all lose him."
A bearded warrior stepped forward and said, "Let him come aboard, Captain. He's speaking the truth."
The ship's captain hesitated.
Td know if he was lying," the warrior said.
The captain nodded to her crew. They put away their bows and dropped a cargo net over the side, leaving it caught up at the top.
"Climb on," the captain said. "We'll pull you up."
* * * * *
Jherek sat beside Sabyna's bed, his forearms resting heavily on his bent knees, his forehead pressed against them. He held her hand, hot daring to let it go, afraid she might drift away from him in her sleep.Glawinn continued using his power on her daily, but there were no healing potions left. Now, every day, the ship's mage lost ground. Her wounds festered, growing larger, taking her away from him a piece at a time.
The young sailor was ragged and unkempt. Not an hour passed that he didn't feel pain-hers as well as his. He ignored the knock on the door, not wanting to deal with
Glawinn trying to get him to eat or leave. If he had kept his distance from Sabyna, she would have been fine, but he'd returned.
"Young warrior," Glawinn spoke softly, "someone has come to see you."
"No." Jherek knew he was being petulant, but he'd had enough of looking at other people.
"Jherek."
The musical voice captured the young sailor's attention, striking a chord deep within him. He found it immediately uncomfortable. "Go away."
"I can't. I've waited all my life to meet you."
Shamed by his own lack of manners, knowing Glawinn wouldn't think well of him either, Jherek pushed himself to his feet and opened the door. It took him a moment to recognize the two men standing beside Glawinn. He'd met both of them the night Iakhovas and the pirates attacked Baldur's Gate.
"Hail and well met," the old man said.
His clothes were wet, almost dripping, and he smelled of the sea. He offered his hand.
"You're the bard," Jherek said, his tired mind wandering through all the memories. He clasped the old man's arm.
The bard bowed and said, "Pacys."
The resonance continued in Jherek but he still didn't understand where it came from.
"Hail and well met, swabbie," the dwarf greeted him good-naturedly.
"Khlinat."
Seeing the dwarf sailor standing there brought the beginnings of a smile to Jherek's lips. He took Khlinat's arm and felt the powerful grip.
"Hear tell ye've been betwixt some proper demons' brews since these old eyes last seen ye."
Jherek nodded quietly and glanced back at Sabyna. "It's been far harder than anything I could have imagined."
"This is the one who holds your heart?" the old bard asked.
Pacys glided into the room, in motion before Jherek even knew it. He stood by her bed and trailed his fingers across her feverish brow.
Jherek didn't know how to respond. Sabyna never had the chance to let him know her mind after he'd revealed who he was.
The look in your eyes is all the answer I need," Pacys said softly. The love you share is a powerful thing."
Tears clouded Jherek's vision but he didn't let them fall. He spoke through a too-tight throat. "As it turns out, I wasn't the man she thought I was."
"On the contrary, my boy," the old bard said, "it's you who aren't the man you think you are."
"Can you help her?" Jherek had put off the question because he'd been afraid of the answer.
Sadly, Pacys shook his head. "No. The young lady lies beyond any help I might give her."
Jherek tried to will himself into a state of numbness but couldn't. The resonance within him that the bard's presence elicited wound him up inside.
"You should go," Jherek said.
"I can't. I was sent here to find you and to help you."
Jherek shook his head. The only way you can help me is to help her."
"You don't know all there is yet."
The old man took the waterproof bag from his shoulder and opened it. He sat on the floor of the small cabin.
"What are you doing?" Jherek demanded.
Pacys's practiced fingers brushed the strings lightly. He twisted the knobs at the end of the instrument, adjusting the string tension. When he brushed the strings again, creating a mellow note that seemed to fill the room with light and warmth, he smiled and said, "Blessed Oghma, after being under the sea for so long and not able to practice, I thought I might have lost the gift."
"You have to go," Jherek said sternly, unable to believe the audacity of the bard.
Pacys effortlessly played a tune. It was soft and quiet, melding the gentleness of a stream running over smooth rocks and the sight of the wind through winter's bare tree branches.
"Music is a balm," the old bard said. "Let me play to her that I might ease her mind for a while."
"You said you couldn't help her."
"I can't, but I can ease the pain she suffers from."
Pacys nodded toward the unconscious woman. His fingers whispered across the strings, coaxing soothing notes that filled the room. Turning, Jherek saw that Sabyna's face appeared more relaxed than it had in days.
"Will that be all right then?" Pacys asked.
"Aye."
Jherek returned to the bed and took a fresh compress from the pitcher, then gently wiped Sabyna's face. He sat, the resonance within his chest unfaltering.
"She's very pretty," the old bard said.
"Aye." Jherek slumped forward, trying to find a way to be comfortable.
"I'd like to hear how you met her."
"It's a long story."
The old bard smiled and said, "Actually, those are my favorite kind."
At first, Jherek wasn't going to speak, but there was something about the music that loosened his tongue. It changed subtly, though he couldn't point to exactly what the change was. So he began with how he met Sabyna on Breezerunner. Of course, that meant dredging up everything that happened at Velen. Pacys asked how Jherek happened to be there, which meant explaining about Bloody Falkane.
He also mentioned the voice that haunted him all his life and the cryptic message it gave him: Live, that you may serve. As the music played, he realized that there were only the three of them in the room. He couldn't remember when the others left. He didn't remember ever talking so much in his life.
Even when Jherek finished speaking, Pacys continued playing. The tune was different from when he started hours ago. Khlinat brought a plate of food, but the old bard turned it away, as did the young sailor. When Pacys finally stopped playing only the sound of Sabyna's ragged breathing filled the room. The weight of it almost broke Jherek.
"It seems," the old bard said, showing no signs of discomfort after sitting on the floor for hours, "that you have searched everywhere you might for help for the young lady except one."
"What?"
The old bard's hazel eyes flickered with reflections from the lantern hanging on the wall.
"All your life," the bard told him, "you've had a benefactor who has looked out for you."
"The voice?"
"Yes."
"I never knew who that was."
"Perhaps it's time to ask."
Jherek put another compress on Sabyna's fevered brow and said, "I did ask."
"When you were on Black Champion, following Vurgrom."
"Aye. I asked, and I got no answer."
"Perhaps that wasn't the time. Perhaps you were supposed to wait a while longer."
"Why?"
The old bard shrugged. "I don't know how these things work, my boy," he said. "Faith in the gods is like a good song. You must wait to have everything revealed. You can try to force it to happen, but a song, and that faith, has its own time and place."
"But I had a faith."
"You could have already been spoken for at the time you sought out the Crying God."
"Spoken for?" Jherek echoed incredulously. "By a god?"
"Priests are called to serve their gods," the old bard said softly. "That call is undeniable. I've had friends who were good bards and artists who worked with passion at their craft only to be called into service of one of the gods."
The young sailor changed the compress again, thinking hard. Everything he thought forced him to the same conclusion. "I'm no priest."
"No, I never thought you were." Pacys began playing again, and this time the tune was a little faster, more uplifting than calming. "Remember in Baldur's Gate when Khlinat lay wounded? It seemed as if the wound might even prove fatal. Yet, you laid your hands on him and he was healed."
"It was the necklace he wore."
"No," Pacys said. "I've handled magical things in my time. That necklace holds no magic."
"It could have been used up saving his life. He even believed it saved him."
"Khlinat doesn't believe that now," Pacys said softly.
The whole idea confused Jherek. ''You think I somehow saved him?"
"Yes." Pacys found another chord, and the resonance within the young sailor's chest felt stronger, more sure. "Why did Malorrie teach you?"
"I don't know."
"You said that someone pointed him in your direction."
"Aye." Jherek felt as though the room was closing in on him.
"And Madame Iitaar, whom you respect and love, told you there was a destiny ahead of you."
Jherek sat quietly and still, wanting only to deny everything the old bard said.
"Look at your whole life, my boy. Have you ever raised a hand against another with malice in your heart?"
Jherek thought back to the bar fight in Athkatla. "Aye. Against Aysel from Breezerunner's crew."
"The man who insulted Sabyna's honor?" Pacys smiled. "Why, Jherek, I could expect nothing less from such as you."
"Such as me? What do you think I am?"
Pacys shook his head. "It's not what I think," he said. "When you needed the astrolabe from the diviner at the Pirate Isles and you were asked what you believed in, what was your answer?"
"Love," Jherek whispered, looking at Sabyna and feeling like he was about to fall apart. He grew angry with the bard for speaking in such a circumspect way.
"How can you believe in love after the way you were brought up?"
"Because it was shown to me by Madame Iitaar and Malorrie, then by old Finaren, captain of Butterfly."
"A phantom with a geas laid on him?" Pacys asked. "A lonely widow woman who could use a strong back and a pair of hands around her house to fix it up? A ship's captain who let you go once it was discovered you were one of Bloody Falkane's claimed? What could these people know of love? How can you trust their motives?"
Jherek shook his head. "Say what you will, but they loved me when no one else did."
"And you gave them love back."
"Aye," the young sailor said, "all that I had. Only to be driven from them."
"For a reason," Pacys said softly "There were things you had to learn!" He glanced at Sabyna and said, "Perhaps a new love to be found."
"Only to have those taken from me because I was cursed the day I was born?"
"I've seen the love Glawinn has for you," Pacys said. "The man has laid his life on the line for you."
"He was only serving Lathander, who guided him to help save the disk I pridefully took in Baldur's Gate."
"You were meant to have that disk."
"I didn't have it, and it was used to kill all those people on the Whamite Isles."
"Perhaps they were forfeit anyway," Pacys said. "So the best was done that could be, and the disk saw you to that sword."
"It's not mine."
"Yet I've been told no hand may comfortably hold it but yours."
Jherek couldn't argue; it was true. Others in Azla's crew tried to hold the sword but none of them could do it, or even wanted to, for any length of time.
"The Great Whale Bard sought you out and gave you a gift."
Jherek looked at the old bard and said, "All these things you say are true, but I can't make any sense of them." "They were a path, my boy," Pacys said softly. "A path that led you here, to this time and this place." "To do what?"
"What you were born to do. Battle the Taker." Jherek couldn't help it; he laughed. The sound was bitter and insane and rude, but he couldn't help himself.
Fatigue and pain had broken down his self-discipline, made it impossible to keep all those feelings to himself. "It is your fate," Pacys said. "Even the whales told you so."
"Don't you see?" Jherek asked. "It's a mistake. Another part of that ill luck that has followed me. It's just my misfortune, and yours, that you're here wasting your time when you should be with this hero you're looking for."
"You've already faced the Taker once," Pacys said, "in the caverns. You wounded him, survived his attempt to kill you with the buckler given to you by the Great Whale Bard. Iakhovas is the Taker."
"He was just a mage."
"No."
The firm denial shook Jherek, brought him back under control a little. He sobered and looked at the bard. "What you're saying is impossible," he insisted.
"What I'm saying," Pacys stated, "could be no other way. You are the champion that these times call for."
"I'm a sailor."
"And more."
Jherek shook his head.
"It's true," Pacys said. "Every step you took, every decision you made, has brought you to here and now."
"I've brought only bad luck to everyone I know," Jherek said. "Madame Iitaar probably lost business in Velen after it was found out that she was harboring one of Bloody Falkane's pirates. Finaren probably lost work as well."
"You don't know that," Pacys said. "Even if it's true, you could change all that by becoming what you're meant to be."
"And what is that?"
Pacys eyed him again and stopped playing. "Ask."
"I have asked."
"Not me."
"Then who?"
"The voice that has been with you all those years."
Jherek shook his head and felt empty inside. "I've not heard it in months."
"And you think it is gone?"
"Aye. Don't you see? Even if what you were saying was somehow true, I've already broken faith with the voice."
"Ask," Pacys said gently.
"How can you be so certain?"
"How can you be so uncertain?"
Jherek looked at the bard incredulously. "Have you not listened to what I've told you?"
"Oh yes. Even better, it seems, than you have. Ask."
"I have asked."
"Ask now."
"If the voice cared whether Sabyna lived or died, it wouldn't have allowed her to be infected by the bite of the drowned ones.''
"And you would never have had a reason to search so deeply within yourself these past few days. Ask, Jherek. The truth is the tonic you need."
Anger gripped the young sailor. The old bard dangled false hope like fat fruit hanging on the vine. "Fine," he said. "And after I do, I want you to leave."
Pacys ignored Jherek's anger, keeping his voice soft. "Ask, Jherek." The old bard put the yarting down, then rolled to his knees. "Ask properly, and with respect, as you would ask one of those you love."
Seeing the old bard's belief brought stinging tears to Jherek's eyes. How could anyone believe what the man said after everything he'd been told. Why did the bard's words have to ring so true? Angry with himself, so scared of the final denial he was about to experience, he rolled to his knees. He faced the bard and brought his hands together in supplication. The young sailor was surprised at how his hands shook. He looked around the room for some inspiration, not knowing where to begin. Azure Dagger's gentle sway as she sailed rocked him.
"I don't know how to begin."
"Live," Pacys said, "that you may serve."
"I live," Jherek said, the words coming somehow naturally to his lips, "how may I serve?"
The great voice that answered filled the cabin. Even the lantern light seemed brighter.
I am here.
Jherek saw the old bard's eyes widen and knew he heard the words, too.
"You are back," the young sailor said.
My son, I have never left you. On every step of your journey, I have been with you. When your heart faltered, I gave you the strength to carry on.
"Why?"
Because I have chosen you.
"For what?"
To be my champion. To work in my name. To live by living and serve by serving.
"Why me?"
I have looked into your heart, my son, and found it to be one of the truest I have seen. You love with all the length and depth and breadth of your soul, never holding back any of yourself, never letting your fear that you might be hurt stand in your way.
"I would not listen to you."
Pride is not a bad thing when tempered properly, my son. You did not yet know me when you turned away.
"Why didn't you tell me more?"
You were not ready. You had enough things in your life that you still held to that you could not have accepted, could not have believed.
