by Mel Odom
She sat cross-legged on a sea lion hide that had the creature’s head still intact.
Jherek’s hand tightened as he stared at the maned head. The itching sensation grew even stronger. Dehnee turned a hand palm up and offered seating on the piles of hides in the center of the cave.
“If you don’t mind, lady,” Glawinn said, “I’ll stand. The armor becomes rather cumbersome.”
“Of course, Sir Knight. I know merely being here must be troublesome to you. Some of the objects I use in my divinations would not be comfortable to you, but they are necessary in what I do.”
“Thank you, lady.”
Gazing at the paladin, Jherek saw that Glawinn was a little paler than normal and held his lips tightly as a man at rough sea might. The young sailor didn’t feel well himself and was experiencing a throbbing behind his eyes.
Sabyna and Azla sat in front of the diviner.
Dehnee looked up at Jherek with dark, liquid eyes. “I can attempt this without you,” she told him, “but my best chance of success will be with your assistance.”
“I don’t understand,” Jherek said.
“You come here seeking an object,” Dehnee told him. “Of all, you are the most closely tied to it.”
Jherek hesitated only a moment, wishing there were some other way. “What do I need to do?”
“Sit.”
Dehnee pointed to a place before her. The young sailor pulled his cutlass from the sash at his waist so that he could sit in comfort. As soon as the blade came free, the sea lion’s eyes glinted with unholy light and tracked his movement. The massive jaws unhinged and loosed a coughing roar of warning. Skin prickling and heart hammering in fear, Jherek stepped back.
The sea lion’s body rose from the carpet, magically transforming and coming fully to life.
VI
6 Flamerule, the Year of the Gauntlet
Half formed from the diviner’s carpet, the sea lion glared at Jherek with hot hatred in its emerald green eyes. In life the creature had been easily a dozen feet long. Light danced on the shiny scales that began just behind its forelegs as it slithered protectively in front of Dehnee.
“Narik!” Dehnee cried, tugging on the fierce mane. “No!”
Slowly, the sea lion shifted its attention from Jherek to the diviner. The coughing growls subsided and changed to a plaintive whining that filled the whole cavern.
“He means no harm,” Dehnee stated, continuing to pull on the ensorcelled beast. “He thought you were going to hurt me. He’s not been around many such as you.”
As if in grudging obedience, the sea lion glided back to the cave’s stone floor and became inert. The green eyes continued to follow Jherek’s movements.
The young sailor swallowed hard, discovering he had a death grip on the cutlass.
“This is an uneasy place for us, young warrior,” Glawinn said softly. “As you sense danger about this cave, so it senses danger from you. Trust the lady to hold the balance.”
Jherek let out a tense breath, reminding himself why they were there. He sat slowly, offering no threat, watching the green eyes that watched him. He sat with crossed legs, his cutlass across his knees.
“Believe in me,” Dehnee told him, offering her hands.
“Lady,” Jherek said in a tight voice, “as much as I am able.”
He held his hands out and she took them. Her touch felt almost too warm, too exciting. Emotions and desires that he kept carefully bottled up slapped at the sides of his restraint, threatening to explode. He tried to yank his hands away, feeling shamed.
Dehnee tightened her grip, but he pulled hard enough to bring her to her knees before him. He gazed into her gold eyes.
“It’s all right,” she told him. “Your feelings are natural.”
“No.” Jherek shook his head and kept pulling at his hands. Nothing that strong and heady could ever be natural.
“An innocent,” Dehnee breathed in quiet wonder. “By Umberlee’s favored sight, I’ve not touched an innocent in decades.”
“Have a care with him, lady,” Glawinn warned softly. “I’ll not have him hurt in any way.”
“I know what I’m doing, Sir Knight.”
All Jherek’s ability to struggle deserted him in a powerful surge that left him weak. He still felt the woman’s hands on his, still felt the unaccustomed and unacceptable desire that flamed him, but he couldn’t move.
Then Glawinn’s strong hand dropped to his shoulder, anchoring him and putting some of the feeling at bay. “Patience, lady,” the paladin said. “He’s never been around one such as you.”
“What did you come here seeking?” Dehnee asked, her eyes totally focused on Jherek’s.
Jherek’s thoughts ran rampant. It was hard to concentrate. “Lathander’s disk,” he said.
“Picture it in your mind.”
Unbidden, Jherek’s thoughts ranged only on the woman before him. He saw her naked, her body trim and gently rounded, her small breasts heavy with desire. He closed his eyes tightly against the vision and whispered, “No.”
“What you’re feeling is normal,” Dehnee said.
Jherek didn’t believe her. Nothing like this could ever be normal—or acceptable.
“Picture the disk.”
Calming himself as much as he was able, Jherek built the image of the disk inside his head.
“Good,” Dehnee whispered. “I can see it as well. What do you wish to know?”
“Vurgrom took it,” Azla said beside Jherek. “We want to know if he still has it.”
Lathander’s disk tumbled in Jherek’s mind.
“Yes,” the diviner said. “It is still in Vurgrom’s possession.”
“Where?”
Filmy black patterns ghosted over Jherek’s vision, like rotten spots on fruit. They cleared momentarily, revealing a glimpse of a ship. He managed to peer closer and see her name, then the image slipped away. He recognized the ship from the confrontation at the Ship of the Gods.
“Maelstrom,” he gasped.
“Do you know where she is?” Azla asked.
Jherek shook his head, too weak to say anything.
“It is far from here,” Dehnee replied.
“We want to find it,” Azla told her.
“Of course you do. And you will. It is meant for this boy to find.”
The diviner released one of Jherek’s hands but not the other. The young sailor watched as she reached into the sea lion’s open mouth and pulled out a complex device.
“An astrolabe. It’s used by a ship’s navigator,” Azla said. “With it a captain or anyone learned enough to take readings from the azimuth of the sun, the moon, or certain stars can determine where a ship is on the sea.”
“This is no ordinary astrolabe,” Dehnee told them. She cradled the instrument in her lap with one hand. “This device is ages old, and its origin is almost completely unknown to me.”
The whale oil light glistened off the astrolabe’s surface. Only then did Jherek realize it was cut from some kind of yellowed crystal that held only minute fractures.
“I was given this by a sea elf in exchange for information,” the diviner continued. “I can enspell it to track Vurgrom’s ship for you.”
“At what cost?” Azla demanded.
“Only that you bring it back when you’re finished,” Dehnee replied. “And I would ask a favor.”
Azla’s eyes narrowed. “What favor?”
“Not from you, Captain.” Dehnee’s eyes locked with Jherek’s. “From this boy.”
Glawinn interrupted before Azla could respond. “He is only a boy.”
The diviner nodded. “And what he faces will make a man of him.” She glanced at the paladin. “You know this as well as I. That’s part of the reason you’re here. I won’t ask a favor of the boy. I will want a favor from the man.”
“He’s too young to know what you ask,” Glawinn interrupted. “A promise from him—”
“Is all that I will settle for,” Dehnee said. “Othe
rwise, you are on your own.”
“You know of the portents and magic that surround the Sea of Fallen Stars,” Azla said. “Some are saying that ancient prophecies are being fulfilled, that an old evil is descending upon us.”
“That’s not my concern.” The diviner stared at Jherek and he felt the pull of her gaze. “What is your answer?”
“Young warrior,” Glawinn said gently, “don’t agree to these terms. Wait until a more proper time.”
“Time is against us.” Jherek spoke clearly, but his words sounded distant.
“There is much for you to learn,” Glawinn persisted.
“It’s only a favor,” Jherek said. “I owe a debt to the temple of Lathander …”
“Do you accept?” Dehnee asked.
Dehnee took his hand back in hers, holding both of them again. “Swear to me that you will honor my request, and that you will never lift your hand against me.”
In the periphery of his vision, Jherek saw Glawinn’s stony face and knew that the paladin didn’t approve.
“Lady,” the young sailor said, “I swear that I will honor your request and will never lift a hand against you.”
“Swear by your god.”
Jherek’s throat tightened. “Lady, I’m sorry. I recognize no gods. I am adrift in my beliefs and hold no anchor.”
The diviner’s eyes studied his face, searching.
“He speaks the truth,” Glawinn stated coldly.
“I can see that. Yet he’s no stranger to falsehood.”
Shame burned Jherek’s cheeks. The only things he’d never been completely forthright about concerned his heritage and his true name—and those he’d hidden primarily from Sabyna.
“Not in this matter,” Glawinn said.
“It’s strange to think of one such as him without strong beliefs.”
“As may be, lady,” the paladin said, “but so it is.”
Dehnee tightened her grip on his hands and said, “Then name something you believe in, boy.”
An incredible weight seemed to descend on Jherek’s chest. It felt impossible to breathe. He had confessed to Glawinn that he believed in nothing. The paladin swore to teach him to believe again, but hadn’t told the young sailor what he was supposed to believe in. Only now there was a huge gaping emptiness where his faith in the gods had once been.
“My eye and my sword arm,” he croaked in a tight voice, remembering what Glawinn told him he would believe in first. “I believe in those.”
“No,” the diviner said. “Those things you trust in, but that is no real belief. Search yourself, boy, tell me what you believe in.”
Jherek thought furiously, trying to find some quote, some philosophy Malorrie had taught him that he could cling to in that moment. Memories piled in on him, breakfasts shared with Madame Iitaar, battle sessions with Malorrie, sunsets he’d seen sink into the waters off the western coast of Velen.
He recalled the smell of the blueberry pies Madame Iitaar made for him, the feel of the paper of the books Malorrie loaned him, the satisfaction he got the day he first finished mending Madame Iitaar’s roof, already knowing the woman had more work for him and a bed as well.
He remembered the cake he’d gotten from Hukkler’s Bakery to celebrate Madame Iitaar’s first birthday since he’d gone there to live. An image of Madame Iitaar at her husband’s grave filled his mind. The old woman had grown a special flowering plant, then planted it on the grave in remembrance. Her smile that day, both sad and joyous, was something he’d known he’d never forget.
And he remembered the first day he’d seen Sabyna. He avoided talking to the pretty ship’s mage then, fearing himself too backward and too entrenched in lies about his own identity. He’d admired her from afar, watching how she managed Breezerunner’s crew so efficiently and effortlessly, the easy way she smiled and the graceful way she moved with the ship’s roll.
“What do you believe in?” Dehnee asked again.
“These are troubling times for him,” Glawinn said.
“He knows what he believes,” the diviner replied. “All he has to do is give voice to it.”
Jherek faced the woman, feeling scared and alone, but his thoughts kept focusing on the same images. Madame Iitaar hadn’t been forced to take on an orphaned boy and make a home for him. Whatever drew Malorrie to him hadn’t ensured the bond that grew between the phantom and the boy. He didn’t doubt the way he felt about Sabyna. When he’d met her again in Baldur’s Gate, his spirits soared. Even though he knew he could never be good enough for her, he knew how he felt about her.
“Tell me what you believe in,” the diviner said in a softer voice.
“Love,” Jherek whispered, knowing it was true. “I believe in love.”
The diviner’s hands suddenly shook as if palsied. Her eyes went wide. The sea lion beside her snarled irritably, one forepaw flexing, then drawing back.
“By the gods,” the woman said in hoarse surprise.
Embarrassed, the young sailor risked a glance at Sabyna, not knowing what she might make of his answer. Her gaze didn’t meet his, but unshed tears glittered in her eyes.
Jherek felt like a giant hand reached inside of him and tried to yank his heart from his chest. He sat up straighter, knocking the cutlass from his knees, his chest suddenly too tight to breathe.
The feeling of being yanked out of his own body passed as suddenly as it came, dropping Jherek back to the floor. He gasped, then his breath came back to him in a rush. Awareness returned to him, making him feel as though a part of him was gone, but he couldn’t name which part.
“Your promise,” the diviner stated in a strained voice, “is accepted.”
“Lathander help you, young warrior,” Glawinn said gravely, “as I will if I am able.”
Jherek sat, stunned, unable to explain what had passed between the woman and him. He had no doubt that it would have consequences.
Dehnee took her hands from his and lifted the astrolabe from her lap. She spoke over the device, calling out in a language Jherek couldn’t understand. A purple flame filled the yellowed crystal and threw a lambent glow over the room. A moment later and the light shrank back inside the astrolabe.
“It’s finished,” the diviner said, and offered the instrument to Jherek.
The young sailor reached for the astrolabe, his limbs feeling like lead. When he touched the polished surface, an icy chill filled him.
“All the readings you take from that astrolabe will give you the position of Vurgrom’s ship and not your own,” Dehnee said.
“You took a reading from the disk for Vurgrom,” Azla said.
The diviner didn’t try to deny it. “Yes.”
“What did you learn?”
The diviner shook her head. “Not much,” she said. “The disk is protected from the small skills I have.”
From what he’d been through in the last few minutes, Jherek doubted the diviner’s skills were in any way small. He wondered what brought her to the Dragonisle, and why to that place’s most desolate harbor. Had it been through choice, or need? How would that affect the promise he’d made her?
“But you learned something,” Azla said.
“The disk is designed to lead its possessor to a weapon,” Dehnee said.
“What weapon?”
“I couldn’t see that much, but I know it lies somewhere off the coast of Turmish. In the vision, I was able to see that coastline and the druids that care for the place. In the past, I’ve been there.”
“You’re certain of this?” Glawinn asked.
“Yes.”
The paladin faced Jherek and asked, “Did the talisman ever try to guide you?”
The young sailor thought back. He had possessed Lathander’s disk for only minutes. “No.”
“Maybe the disk isn’t guiding Vurgrom either,” Sabyna offered.
“It is,” Jherek told her.
“How do you know this?” asked Azla.
“Because,” the young sailor said, “I felt
it come alive in my grasp.”
VII
10 Flamerule, the Year of the Gauntlet
“You’re keeping to yourself a lot these days.”
Jherek looked down from his position in the rigging and spotted Sabyna. “Good evening, lady,” he said, and immediately felt uncomfortable.
There had been much to do in the four days since they’d taken their leave of the Dragonisle. Jherek had taken care to stay involved in shipboard duties that the pretty ship’s mage hadn’t been assigned to oversee.
“I’ve gotten the impression you don’t care much for present company,” Sabyna said as she hauled herself up in the rigging and looked out over the curved horizon of the sea.
They were well away from land now, sailing by the mystic astrolabe. The canvas cracked and snapped as it held the wind.
“Not true,” replied Jherek. He marked his place in the romance Glawinn had loaned him.
“I thought maybe I was the cause.”
“Of course not,” Jherek assured her. “Why would you think such a thing?”
“Because the last time we spoke I was so … forward.”
“You merely said what was on your mind.”
“Is that what you think?” she asked softly.
Despite the quietness of her words, barely heard over the crash of the waves below and the snap of canvas sails around them, Jherek suddenly felt as though he’d stepped into the jaws of a steel trap.
“Lady, I don’t know what to think,” he admitted. “These are very confusing times.”
“For all of us.” She held his gaze with her eyes and said, “When things get confusing, people who are together should be most truthful with each other.”
“Aye.”
Jherek’s temples pounded. He hoped she wouldn’t steer their conversation in a direction that would force him to lie.
“Your name isn’t Malorrie.”
“No. Malorrie is the name of a good friend and teacher.”
“Your name is Jherek. I know you feel that you have reasons to conceal your identity. I promised you I’d never push you about it.” Her eyes searched his and he saw the pain there. “But times have changed. I can no longer bide my own counsel. There are things I must know.”
