Under Fallen Stars - Mel Odom [131]
Pacys tapped the crystals of the saceddar, picking out the notes for "Lady Who Shed Golden Tears," an old elven song about the flight from Cormanthyr after the fall of Myth Drannor. Despite whatever cultural differences now separated the surface elves from their aquatic cousins, the song found favorable response among the listeners by tying into their common history.
As the last note faded away, passing through the open windows cut into the coral walls, they hooted their appreciation. Clapping took up too much energy to fight the water and stirred up currents that moved wildly within a contained area.
"Another song, Taleweaver," someone called from one of the tables.
"Nay," the bartender interrupted. He was pale and thin, with only a scattering of blue speckles across his body. His silver-white hair floated around his face, kept back by a band chipped from pink quartz. "The man has sung long and strong, and he's entertained you layabouts for free long past time enough. Now I'm going to stand him to a drink that he may rest his voice. What will you have, Taleweaver?"
"An ale, my kind friend," Pacys answered, stripping the saceddar from his body. "Nothing heavy, for I'll not be early to bed tonight."
Since Taareen had accompanied Khlinat and him there after leaving Faenasuor, the old bard had stayed busy with Telvanlu's lore-keepers, learning as many of their legends of the Taker as he could. He was only taking a short break now to rest his mind and gain some perspective on what he'd learned.
He took the ale bladder to a back table where Khlinat had camped out. From where he sat, the dwarf had a full view of the tavern and the street outside. The streets, Pacys had discovered, were there primarily for the surface dwelling traders that visited and didn't feel comfortable with a three-dimensional world.
"Ye sang well," Khlinat greeted. "Hard to see any of 'em crying in this watery deep, but ye could see the painful joy in their faces as ye called up the ghost of Cormanthyr past."
"It's a favored song," Pacys said.
"To yer health," Khlinat said, hoisting his ale bladder.
Pacys unsealed his own ale bladder, fixed his lips over the opening, blew the remnants of salt water from his mouth, and squeezed. The ale tasted bitter and strong, a Cormyrean brew that he was readily familiar with. Evidently the balance of trade included beverages.
He swallowed, then nearly choked as a convulsion tightened his body. Harsh music created a cacophony of strident songs in his mind, making his head feel like it was about to split open. The refrain remained steady in his mind, hammering as viciously as a dwarven blacksmith marking out the preliminary shaping on a hard piece of metal. The song gave form to the smell of rankest sulfur and savage heat.
"Pacys?" Khlinat asked worriedly.
Understanding what the song meant, the old bard looked at his friend and said, "He's here, Khlinat. The Taker has arrived in the Sea of Fallen Stars!"
* * * * *
The wind kicked into Black Champion's sails, driving the caravel into motion. Her prow slammed into the white-capped waves, burying down, then moving to rise again over the next trough.
Jherek clung to the rigging in frustration, unable to bring the spyglass into use when the ship was fighting the ocean so much. At his side, Azla continued to yell orders, putting up some sails and trimming others.
Vurgrom said Maelstrom, accompanied by the other pirate vessels, sailed at them. Jherek was beginning to believe that the pirates weren't chasing after them so much as they were fleeing something else. The tarps pulled tight across their decks still intrigued him.
Behind them, the Ship of the Gods increased the volume of smoke pouring out of the volcano. Thunder rent the air, slamming hammer-like blows that took away all other sounds. The concussions reached Jherek, rocking him in the rigging.
In the next instant,