Under Fallen Stars - Mel Odom [125]
"Anything associated with Falkane is a hard burden."
Jherek tried not to let too much bitterness sound in his voice, but knew he failed. He hadn't even intended to speak his thoughts, but they'd been too strong to remain mute. Thankfully Azla seemed so busy with her crew for the moment that she didn't notice. He took out more of the thick thread.
"You've got a steady hand with that needle," Azla told him a moment later.
"Thank you." Jherek took up another stitch, gathering the material. Black Champion's speed increased and she slid across a large swell that lifted her up and set her back down quickly enough to roll the young sailor's stomach slightly.
"You're a sailor then?" she asked him. "Not like your paladin friend?"
"Aye. Nearly all I've known is the sea."
"And you like it here?"
"More than any other place I've been."
Her line of questioning made Jherek believe that she hadn't always known the sea. Yet, with the grace and certainty she displayed on the deck, he couldn't imagine her not in command of a ship. As Finaren often declared, ships' captains were born and made, hammered into shape by events rather than through book learning.
Azla nodded and said, "But you're young. There are probably few places you've actually been."
Jherek tied off another stitch as he gave consideration to what she'd said. "I've been up and down the Sword Coast a number of times. I've been to Waterdeep, Baldur's Gate, Athkatla, and a number of cities to the north. I've seen my share of things."
"And now you're here in the Sea of Fallen Stars to see yet more."
"As the gods will it."
An icy chill touched Jherek again as he remembered the great voice that had haunted him upon occasion since he was a child.
"Personally," Azla informed him in a fiat tone, "I don't believe the gods take an interest in anyone."
Jherek shrugged, then touched the praying hands of II-mater hanging on the thong around his neck. "I have my beliefs."
"Do you find your god shading the luck and opportunities you have in your favor?"
Jherek considered the question gravely. Religious matters were important and he wanted to answer the question most correctly. "At times I have thought so."
"But you don't know?"
"No."
"Then how can you profess to believe?"
"Because believing is different than knowing," Jherek answered. "Once I know, how can I believe? Knowledge isn't faith."
Azla regarded him in silence. "You've been talking to soothsayers far too long."
Jherek shrugged, taking no offense. "Captain, I learned a long time ago that each man has to build within himself the things he'll need to get through life. Part of that is a way of thinking, certain skills that are meant to put food on the table and a roof over his head, other skills that keep him free from the tyranny of other men. Belief has to be in there as well, to shape a man's destiny and lead him forward."
"And what if that destiny is a bent or broken one?" Azla asked. "Where does belief fit in then?"
The question lit a new fire under all the doubts that Jherek tried to keep buried within him. He hesitated for a moment, then gave her the answer Malorrie had always given him. "A man's belief helps him through, helps him remain himself in spite of the trials around him."
"What about you?" she asked him. "Is your belief helping you so far?"
"Aye." Jherek's answer was given with far less confidence than he would have liked to admit.
"Good, then maybe it'll be enough for us all."
XXV
1 Flamerule, the Year of the Gauntlet
Laaqueel stood on Tarjana's deck and looked out at the Lake of Steam. Thick, heated gray mist hung over the lake and clouded the surrounding lands with perpetual fog. Ahead of them in the distance, she could barely see Arnrock Island, which was the major source of all the volcanic activity in the area. Gray-white smoke with searing orange embers belched continuously into the air, creating the black cinders that swirled endlessly over the lake and filled the water with dark speckles.
She wrapped her arms around herself, already feeling her skin drying out from