Under fallen stars

XI

7 Kythorn, the Year of the Gauntlet

"Have a care there, lad. You took a pretty good knock to your melon."

Rough hands steadied Jherek, holding him down. He knew from the weakness filling him that it didn't take much effort. The liquid motion beneath him told him he was on a ship, though that motion was somehow off. The movements were too quick and sharp. The stink of stale sweat and sickness filled the air he breathed. His stomach rolled and rumbled in protest.

"Easy there," the deep voice advised. "Else you'll be throwing up everything we've managed to put down you the last day or so."

The back of Jherek's throat was raw. He cracked his eyelids open, feeling a sticky and gummy substance binding them. Sunlight stabbed into his eyes and exploded with the ferocity of smoke powder, blinding him. He groaned and his stomach rolled again.

"You still live, lad, and Selune willing, that's a good sign. Come on around and let me see if you've still got your wits about you." A big, callused hand patted his cheek sharply enough to sting without jarring his head. "I've seen such blows as you've taken leave a man addled for the rest of his life, not knowing much more than a child."

Jherek tried his eyes again, squinting against the harsh light. Tears ran down his face but he kept them open. He quickly discovered he was on a ship, but he was in the cargo hold, in a portion that had obviously been set up as a makeshift brig. Iron bars above let the sunlight in but he couldn't tell if it was morning or afternoon. The sound of rigging creaking in the wind and someone calling out sharp orders reached his ears.

"Don't know if you remember me, lad, but the name's Hullyn." He was a short man, but nearly as broad as a dwarf, with thick sloping shoulders heavy with muscle. His skin carried a permanent windburn red from weathering the elements. He wore his graying blond hair tied back, letting his great beard and mustache roam free.

"I remember you," Jherek said. Hullyn was part of Breeze-runner's crew. That gave the young sailor some hope. "Where's Sabyna?" He sat up with assistance, putting his back against the bulwark for support.

Hullyn scowled. "She's topside with those thrice-damned pirates what's got our ship. They're using her as blackmail to keep us in line." He reached to a small bowl and took out a damp cloth, then pressed it against Jherek's head.

Jherek winced in pain, but he looked around the brig. From his previous experience aboard her, he knew Breeze-runner carried a crew of twenty men. All of them appeared to be there, including Captain Tynnel.

The captain stood leaning against the iron bars that separated them from the empty ship's hold. His arms crossed his chest and he looked disapprovingly at Jherek. He was short and had a small stature, but fierceness showed in every inch. Blond hair the color of bleached bone was tied back from his hatchet face. Bright blue eyes held the cutting edge of diamond. For the first time ever, his clothing appeared disheveled.

"You going to live?" Tynnel asked.

Jherek nodded, then regretted it immediately when pain shot down his neck and back. "Aye sir."

"You're a lucky man," Tynnel commented. "Vurgrom and his people were going to kill you, but Sabyna talked them out of it."

"They came looking for her."

"I know. From what I've gathered, they were in Baldur's Gate on bad business. Perhaps they even had something to do with the sahuagin raid as Vurgrom claims. I'm not certain."

"They took the ship?"

Tynnel blew out a short breath. "Would have been nine or ten of them against us, but they had Sabyna. If we hadn't cooperated, Vurgrom told me he would kill her. I believed him."

"Bastards like as not will kill us all afore it's over with. We'll have just put our necks in the executioner's noose for nothing."

Jherek turned his head slightly, spotting Aysel against the left side of the brig. Large and hairy, Aysel resembled an ape trying to pass itself off as a sailor. He was broad shouldered and heavy bellied, covered in scars. His shaggy black hair hung to his shoulders, almost covering the finger-length daggers that hung from ear hoops. He held his hands one on top of the other, two digits missing from his left hand. A soft leather shoe encased his right foot.

Looking at the leather shoe, Jherek took small satisfaction from the knowledge that the fight that had cost him his berth aboard Breezerunner hadn't left Aysel unmarked.

"Is Sabyna all right?" Jherek asked. He tried not to think about Sabyna being alone topside with Vurgrom and his pirates, or what could have happened to her.

"Aye," Tynnel replied. "So far. She's a mage, though still fairly new to her craft, but enough of one that none of Vur-grom's curs has tried to touch her." The captain's hawk's face tightened, and white spots of anger showed in his cheeks. "She could probably have gotten away from them if not for us. Vurgrom told her if she left, our lives would be forfeit. Likewise, if we try to escape, she'll suffer."

"We're not at sea," Jherek said. He assembled the information he had, working through the pieces as Malorrie had always trained him to.

"No," Tynnel agreed. "We're on the River Chionthar, heading east."

"Why?"

A pirate walked by the iron-barred hold above, never even glancing down into the cargo area. All of Breezerunner's crew watched the man, and no few curses and epithets were muttered.

A sour look darkened Tynnel's face and he asked, "You've never heard of Vurgrom the pirate, self-styled Vurgrom the Mighty?"

Jherek shook his head. From his exposure while on his father's ship, he'd learned names and stories of most of the pirates of the Nelanther Isles. Vurgrom was new to him, as was any reason why a Nelanther pirate would head inland across Faerun.

"If you get a chance to talk to the arrogant son of a bitch," Tynnel said, "he'll tell you all about himself. As he tells it, he's the Pirate Lord of Immurk's Hold in the Sea of Fallen Stars. He's planning on taking Breezerunner as far east as she'll go."

"That's not possible," Jherek said. "The River Chionthar doesn't run all the way to the Sea of Fallen Stars. It branches out at the Reaching Woods, going on north and south and ending in the Sunset Mountains and the Giant's Plain, respectively. Both are still leagues from the Dragonmere and the Sea of Fallen Stars."

Tynnel eyed the young sailor with renewed curiosity. "You seem to be well aware of the lay of the land here. Most of the men aboard Breezerunner couldn't have told you anything more than that the River Chionthar was where Baldur's Gate was."

"I've never been there," Jherek said. "I had a harsh schoolmaster who had a love of cartography. He taught me how to find my way around by the heavens at night, and the places those star readings could take me."

"An education is a wonderful thing," Tynnel said. "If you've had one, I have to wonder why you've settled for the life of a sailor."

"Settled?" Jherek echoed. "Captain Tynnel, living out on the sea is all I've ever aspired to do."

"She's as harsh and demanding a mistress as ever was," Hullyn said, interrupting the tension that had come up between Tynnel and Jherek, "ain't she, Cap'n?"

Tynnel remained quiet for a moment, eyeing Jherek suspiciously. "Quite right, Hullyn."

The pounding inside Jherek's head was unrelenting. He cradled his head in his hands and wished the pain would subside while Hullyn continued ministering to him. A momentary lightness touched his senses. He waited it out, then took a deep breath, feeling some of the pain seem to leave when he exhaled through his mouth, controlling the pain the way Malorrie had taught him.

"Steady, lad," the big man said gruffly. "Now that you're awake and the bleeding seems to have stopped, let's see about getting you cleaned up."

Breezerunner suddenly came about, throwing everyone off-balance as she crested the river flow.

"She's against the wind," Jherek said. "He's tacking her from shore to shore to get any distance from her sails."

Tynnel nodded. "Aye, and she's fighting the magery Vur-grom's forcing on her."

"What magery?" Jherek asked.

"Using Sabyna to keep us in check was only one of the reasons Vurgrom kept her. He took us so we couldn't report to the watch in Baldur's Gate and maybe stir up some kind of pursuit. He knew he couldn't kill us outright because she'd have fought him, but Vurgrom's using her to power Breezerunner."

"Some damned demon device," Hullyn growled as he made the sign of Tymora over his chest.

"A chair," Tynnel stated. "I don't know where Vurgrom got it, but I saw it being set up before they put me in the hold. Sabyna and Vurgrom's own ship's mage take turns using it. The chair pushes Breezerunner far faster than any normal wind would. That's the strangeness you feel about the ship's movements. When we come to a sharp bend in the river, you can feel her shuddering through the turn, chopping across the water, but she doesn't slow down. Whatever course and destination Vurgrom's got laid out, we're going to get there damned fast."

Jherek thought desperately while Hullyn continued cleaning his head. "How far have we come?"

"We're two days from Baldur's Gate, boy," Tynnel stated gruffly. "You've been unconscious that whole time. It's anyone's guess as to how far we've come. I don't know this territory."

Jherek couldn't believe it. In two days time with the speed he felt the ship was moving at, they would be miles from Baldur's Gate even having to sail against the current. As he recalled, the shores along the River Chionthar inland were virtually empty of ports or towns. The countryside was infested with ore and goblin hordes who'd staked out territorial claims.

"Bastard could have died," Aysel said, glaring at Jherek. "Maybe should have." The big man sneered, shifting gingerly around his injured foot. "Always sensed something about you that reminded me of a bad copper that keeps turning up."

"Stow that bilge," Tynnel commanded sternly. "Whatever problems the two of you have with each other, they're not allowed on my ship."

"Begging the cap'n's pardon," Aysel said, "but things ain't quite the way they were aboard old Breezerunner. I'm thinking part of that is because of this snot-nosed pup here."

Tynnel glanced at the man with his burning gaze. "If I want any lip from you, Aysel, 111 let you know."

The man looked like he was going to say something further, then apparently thought better of it.

"That goes for both of you," Tynnel finished. "Whatever problems existed back at Athkatla stay at Athkatla."

Jherek nodded tightly, his thoughts centering on Khlinat and the old bard who'd appeared so mysteriously. He'd left them waiting back in Baldur's Gate. He wondered how the dwarf was.

"That's odd," Hullyn said, peering closely at the back of Jherek's head. "I looked at the split you took back here earlier and I could have sworn you'd needed some healer's stitches, but as I get it cleaned up now I see it's not bleeding anymore and seems to have closed up more than I'd have expected. You're a fast healer, lad."

Taking another breath, Jherek realized he did feel better. He attributed it to Hullyn's ministrations, then turned his attention to Tynnel. "So, what are they going to do with us?" Jherek asked.

Tynnel shook his head. "I don't know."

Sitting up straighter, Jherek went through his clothes, wondering if there was something he could use. Unfortunately, Vurgrom's pirates seemed to have been quite thorough. He'd been robbed, of course. They'd even found the fishing knife he kept tucked inside his boot.

Frantically, he searched his clothing again, having remembered the pearl disk the Lathander priest had given him.

"What's wrong?" Hullyn asked.

"There was a disk," Jherek said. "I had a pearl disk with a carving on it." Thinking about the priest's words, of how an important destiny was tied to the disk, made him grow even more afraid. He tried to remember if he'd lost it somehow during the fight on the dock.

"Aye," Hullyn said. "Them pirates went through your clothing out in the hold when they brought you down. They robbed us all, but I remember seeing that piece you describe. Vurgrom spied it himself as one of his men tried to be off with it without notice."

"Vurgrom has it?"

Hullyn nodded. "Was it worth much? Something that belonged in your family?"

Jherek wondered what destiny cost, what price could be placed on it. Some, like his, were cheap, but the one tied to that pearl disk he was certain was a great one.

He'd lost it when it wasn't even his to hold. Despair settled over him, made even worse when he scanned the heavy iron bars keeping them caged.

Pacys sat on a bench inside the Unrolling Scroll, the shrine in Baldur's Gate devoted to the worship of Oghma, the Binder of What is Known. The god was also known as the Patron of Bards, and Pacys had walked within his service ever since discovering his affinity for music. Always before, the old bard had found visiting the shrines, temples, and churches of Oghma to be an uplifting experience, but for the past three days, he'd known only darkness that had chipped away at him until he'd dwindled into the core of himself.

The boy he'd come to find was gone, disappeared into the night. Though he'd searched then, and had Khlinat's help in the following two days, there'd been no clue as to where he'd gone.

It had also been the day the music had gone.

Searching back, Pacys had found he could call up all the notes and fragments and tunes he'd pieced together over the years, most of it coming during the attack on Waterdeep and in the days that followed, but there was nothing new. Every time he went to the well of creation that had always been within him, it was dry. That scared him more than anything ever had in his life. To him, a bard didn't just live to play old tunes, tunes that had already been added to his repertoire. No, it was the search and the finding of new music that made life worth living.

He found himself unwilling and unable to work on even other pieces that had nothing to do with the epic he pursued so diligently. He held his yarting in his lap, but his fingers couldn't coax from the strings any series of notes that lasted for long. Nothing made him want to lift his voice in song.

"You seem distressed."

Blinking, surprised that the priest could get so close to him without his knowledge, Pacys looked up.

The priest showed signs of experience at his chosen vocation, deep-set wrinkles and faded gray eyes that had seen too much, but he was still little more than Pacys's age. His dark hair was shot through with silver, and his beard had gone mostly to gray. He wore a white shirt and trousers, and vest with black and gold braid. A small, boxlike hat sat atop his head.

"Pardon me for interrupting," the priest said, "if I am."

"No," Pacys said, "you're not. Actually I'm grateful for the company. Too much solitude is never good for a man with much on his mind."

The priest gestured toward the empty space on the bench next to Pacys. "May I sit?"

"Of course." The old bard put the yarting aside.

The priest sat and offered his hand. "I'm Father Duhzpin," he said. "I lead this temple."

"You've got a nice place," Pacys said, then introduced himself.

"Blessed Oghma does," Duhzpin agreed. "Though before the Time of Troubles things were much better."

Pacys knew that. He'd crafted songs about the Time of Troubles himself. During that time when the gods themselves had walked the lands, Oghma's chief patriarch Procampur had disappeared. As a result, the churches worshiping Oghma had splintered, no longer a cohesive whole.

"I've noticed you in here the last two days," Duhzpin said, "and though I don't recognize you as a regular parishioner, I felt moved to speak to you." He gazed around at the church. Modestly outfitted, the room was still near to overflowing.

Most of the people prayed for guidance, or for the souls of those who had been taken from them or were on the steadily shorter list of those that were missing since the raid. Great sadness had hung over the church both days Pacys had visited it.

"I appreciate the time," Pacys said, "but I know there are people in here who have much greater problems than I do."

"Maybe," Duhzpin said, "but I've learned to listen to the dictates of Oghma. He placed you in that seat for whatever reason, so I took my own seat. Why don't you tell me of your troubles? They always get lighter when they're shared."

Pacys considered the offer, knowing it was true and remembering how often he'd been the one listening. He knew from experience it was much easier to listen than to talk, though. "All right," he agreed.

He told of his troubles with skill, something he felt guilty about taking pride in as he went along. Oghma forgive him any vanity as he struggled to find the music within him.

"Now this boy can't be found anywhere?" Duhzpin asked when Pacys had finished. If he was shocked at the far-reaching impact of Pacys's tale and what it could mean to all of Faerun, the priest didn't show it.

Pacys figured the man thought he was the biggest liar he'd ever seen, or Duhzpin was so strong in his belief he could handle anything. "No," the old bard said. "I've looked for him."

"Do you think it's possible he's dead?" Duhzpin asked.

Pacys started to say he didn't know, then he changed his mind about the answer. "No," he said, "I don't think he's dead."

"Why? That seems to be an obvious conclusion to draw."

"Because it doesn't sound right," Pacys said.

The priest lifted his eyebrows. "Doesn't sound right?"

Surprised himself, Pacys nodded. "That's exactly what I mean."

"And what are you listening to?"

Pacys pondered the question. "Myself." He felt the ache of desire fill him, and the frustration of not knowing. "Father, all my life I've searched for the legacy I was destined to leave. I know this is it."

"Finding this boy and singing of the Taker and his war against the surface world?"

"Yes."

"What makes you so certain of this?"

"My faith."

"In what?"

"In Oghma," Pacys answered. "He's seen fit to give me what little gift I have for music."

"You expect Oghma to work great things with it?"

"Yes." Pacys considered his response. "That sounds vain, doesn't it?"

"No," Duhzpin answered. "That sounds like conviction."

"Conviction?"

The priest shrugged. "I'm in a business of convictions."

"I thought that was a judge," Pacys bantered, wanting to break the string of somber words, "or a lawreader."

"Or career criminals," Duhzpin added, proving himself worthy of the diversion. "However, in this business, I've learned to hear the truth that people say-the things they believe in-and sometimes those things they believe in aren't the same things other people see."

"Are you questioning my belief, Father?" Pacys asked. The possibility shocked him to a degree.

"No," Duhzpin replied. "That's what you're doing. It's all you've been doing for the last three days. In fact, not only have you been questioning it, you've been agonizing over it."

"That's not right." Pacys didn't want to argue with the man in the temple he was responsible for, but neither did he think the man was correct.

"Then what have you been doing?" the priest asked.

"I'm trying to figure out what to do next."

"All by yourself?"

Pacys became somewhat irritated by the man's constant barrage of questions. "I've prayed about it, several times, and made offerings."

"Good," the priest said in happy satisfaction. "We can always use anything we get, but what have you been praying for?"

"That I might know where to find the boy again," Pacys said, "before it's too late."

"I see." The priest smoothed his beard. "But what if learning the boy's location isn't exactly what you're supposed to do next?"

"That doesn't make any sense." Pacys watched the younger priests moving through the crowded seats, offering prayers and assistance with prayers. Suddenly he wished he'd gotten one of them instead. They tended to give answers rather than demand them. "What else would I be doing?"

The priest beamed like a teacher who'd gotten through to a particularly dense student. "Exactly."

The old bard started to object, then he realized what Duhzpin was getting at. Pacys leaned back in the bench, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. He hadn't considered that. He'd locked in totally on finding the boy.

"If Oghma has put something before you as you believe," Duhzpin said, "then he will find a way for you to do it. That isn't within your realm. It's up to you to provide the faith and the strength to see it done, and Oghma will help you with the strength."

"You're right," the old bard agreed. "If now had been the time for me to find the boy-"

"— it would be done."

"I know he yet lives," Pacys said. "If he didn't, I'd know that too." He lifted his yarting and settled it across his lap. His fingers found the strings without hesitation. "Thank you for your time, Father."

"You're welcome," Duhzpin said. "Should you need a friendly ear again…"

Pacys shook his head, feeling some enthusiasm for the first time in days. "I don't think I'll be staying much longer."

"Probably not." Duhzpin stood, looking around the room, and said, "If I could ask something of you, I'd be in your debt."

"I'd be only too happy to answer any request you might have. I'm in your debt."

Duhzpin nodded at the room. "The other priests and I have been helping people for days. I fear we're running short on strength ourselves, and I don't know if our flagging reserves are up to handling today. Perhaps you could play something uplifting."

Pacys stayed where he was, but he pulled the yarting to him with the skill of an old lover and the passion of youth. The strings rang out, strong and true, and filled the room. He sang, reaching back through the years for a song of praise for Oghma, one that hopefully everyone in the room knew.

In short order, the church filled with the sound of voices lifted in praise. Pacys clung to the sound, letting it fill all the empty places he'd chiseled away inside himself for the last two days, knowing that response was the best a bard who truly loved his work would ever know. As his fingers found the strings, his mind found an answer.

The vision came to him in perfect color and crystal clear.

When he saw the gleaming black double doors equipped with white many-toothed gears that were the symbol of Gond Wonderbringer, he knew they could only belong to one place in Baldur's Gate.

He also knew he had to go there.