The Sea Devils Eye (39 page)

With arms as thick as oak trees crossed over his huge chest, Qos faced the Great Barrier beside the old bard. When he’d first put in his appearance there had been many who had known him.

“Know you this,” Qos said in his booming voice, “as we begin this alliance. If any of you who represent your nations and people are not truthful, the Great Barrier will know and it will not open. Only the true interest of saving all of Seros, of seeing Seros once again healthy and whole, will allow the barrier to unlock the City of Destinies.”

The faces on the other side of the Great Barrier regarded him solemnly.

“Myth Nantar holds her secrets jealously these days,” Qos went on. “She has been betrayed, the ideals she was founded on corrupted. Blood of those who were to make this city their home has run in her streets and scarred the mythal that surrounds it. The Weave will have to be honored and respected for now and for always.” He paused. “Else we may lose great Myth Nantar forever.”

The rulers and representatives of the world below, the High Mages, and Khlinat all stared through the barrier.

“We will begin,” Qos said. “Step forward, place your hand against the Great Barrier, and speak your name.”

The crowd hesitated for a moment, then Reefglamor strode forward and pushed his hand to the invisible wall.

“I am Senior High Mage Taranath Reefglamor of Sylkiir, and I am here to see that the City of Destinies is reopened.”

Pacys closed his eyes, listening to the vibration the sea elf’s voice started within the Great Barrier. The other High Mages followed suit and Pacys listened intently to the changes in the vibration.

“Princess Arina of Eadraal.”

“Prince Mirol of Eadraal.”

“Tribune Akkys of Vuuvax.”

The triton Akkys stood aloof, as all his kind did. He was slightly built compared to the mermen, but everyone in Seros knew not to judge the tritons lightly. They were savage fighters. He wore his shoulder-length blue hair tied back and carried a tapal, the signature weapon of his race, which curved in the middle like a fishhook and seemed to be made of all sharp edges.

Pacys knew that the Vuuvax was of the avenging protectorate within the triton race. His people had undertaken the job of bringing the Great Whale Bard’s killer to justice. The triton slapped the Great Barrier forcefully, changing the pitch of the vibration.

“Dukar Gayar,” a thin voice said, “Grand Savant of the Third Order and Paragon of the Kupavi Order.”

The morkoth had been a surprise but Qos had vouched for him. His touch was soft, hardly changing the vibration at all.

“Lashyrr Maerdrymrn, Grand Savant of the First Order and Paragon of the Numosi Order.”

Pacys recognized her as a baelnorn, a once-dead elf returned to life as a guardian for others. Her body had transformed into living pearl upon her acceptance of her destiny. She was pale blue and ivory, and could have been mistaken for an elegant statue. Her hand slapped flatly against the barrier, changing the vibration’s pitch more than anyone.

“Keros the Wanderer, of… Seros.”

Though the young triton Keros showed hesitation, his voice was strong and clear. The young triton had come to Myth Nantar for reasons of his own and stayed away from the others of his kind.

“Roaoum, subchief of the Tiger Coral tribe.”

The locathah’s voice was soft and carefully measured. Over the last days he had a habit of not speaking unless he truly had something to say. He and Prince Mirol had been friends for a number of years.

“Khlinat Ironeater,” the dwarf said, putting his callused palm against the Great Barrier as well. He stared through the barrier at Pacys. “By Marthammor Duin, I’ll stand with ye long as me heart beats and I got me good leg under me.”

The roll of names continued until there was only one to go.

“Dukar Peacekeeper Tu’uua’col of Eadraal. I swear my allegiance for I have dreamed of this day for many years.” The shalarin Dukar slapped his palm against the Great Barrier.

Pacys listened to the vibration running through the structure. His ear was trained by long years in his craft, gifted by the passion that existed within his heart and had never faltered, and guided by the need in him to be the best he could be.

He opened his mouth and sang, holding the one note at perfect pitch, feeling it resonate within his body as the Great Barrier reacted to it. He continued, lifting his arms at his side so that he could put all of himself into it.

Like a bubble bursting and vanishing within the space of a heartbeat, the Great Barrier shattered.

And the outside world rushed in over Myth Nantar once again, leaving it vulnerable to its greatest enemy.

XXV

“Are ye sure we’ll find the swabbie here?” Khlinat Ironeater asked. He sat in the saddle of a seahorse they’d borrowed from the sea elves, and shaded his eyes against the morning sun with one hand. “That ship has surely seen some better days, I’m thinking.”

Seated on a seahorse as well, Pacys nodded, feeling his heart race as he neared the boy he’d searched for. The hero’s song played in his head, making his fingers itch for the yarting slung across his back in a waterproof bag.

“He’s here,” Pacys assured the dwarf.

A guard of twenty sea elf warriors rode with them as the seahorses cut across the ocean’s surface. The ship’s crew had already seen them and hurried across the decks to get into defensive positions.

“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.”