The Sea Devil's Eye - Mel Odom [27]
"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,