Under Fallen Stars - Mel Odom [52]
Pacys put a hand over the yarting's strings, stilling their hum. "I was sent to find him."
Khlinat fisted the carving knife casually, but shifted in his chair to get into better position. "The swabbie's not wanted for anything, is he? I'll not harbor anyone saying bad things about him. He laid his life on the line for people tonight, meself included, and didn't say one word about it."
"I expect he wouldn't," Pacys agreed. He'd noticed Jherek's calm demeanor as well. "No, he's not wanted for anything."
"Good, for ye had me worried a moment." Khlinat stabbed the knife into the carving board. "I've not had blood spilt in me room before, but I'd not hesitate."
Pacys's fingers returned to the strings, playing the hero's tune that he identified with Jherek. "How long have you known him?"
"I only met him tonight."
Surprised lifted one of the old bard's eyebrows.
"He came up on a caravan from the south," Khlinat said. "I had that from him before them pirates sculled into the harbor and started their attack. He hails from Velen."
"I know the place," Pacys said.
"Lot of ghosts and such there," Khlinat mused.
"What do you know about him?"
The dwarf shrugged and popped a piece of apple into his mouth. "He's a sailor and a good man. Lot of sand in his craw, ye want my opinion. Not many would have stood up like he did tonight."
"You did," Pacys said. "Driving a wagonload of smoke powder into the harbor was no trivial thing."
"I had me reasons."
Pacys changed tunes, finding the one he'd selected for the dwarf as he wove his song about the attack on Baldur's Gate. It was somewhat hard and unpolished, much like the little man himself. "You mean the Harper pin you wear?" The old bard had spotted it on the other man earlier back at the docks. It was clipped inside his shirt, out of the way of the most casual glances. Harpers didn't readily identify themselves except to others of their group.
Khlinat didn't answer.
"It's all right," Pacys said. "I know about Those Who Harp."
"Ye wear the pin yerself?"
Pacys shook his head. "I was asked. I chose not to." The Harpers were a group spead thinly across the face of Faerun that primarily worked for good. Individuals among the group also had their own agendas, though, and that was a problem at times and for some people.
"Being a Harper is an important thing," Khlinat stated.
"Some would call your group meddlers," Pacys pointed out.
"Mayhap, but we stand betwixt evil, them what would take away freedoms, and the common man." Khlinat returned his gaze levelly, the candle flame wavering in his eyes. "I can imagine no higher calling."
Pacys reworked the tune in his head, bringing out the true sound of it through his fingertips. "For myself, I can imagine no higher calling than my art. Belief is a harsh mistress, and you have to believe in one thing most of all in your life. Otherwise, you're compromised."
"Aye. Now that's the right of it." Khlinat drained the dregs of his wine cup. "Ye never mentioned what ye wanted with the swabbie."
Changing the melody again, going back to the piece he'd constructed about his visit with Narros the merman in Waterdeep harbor, Pacys told the tale in his best voice, trusting in the good nature of Those Who Harp, winning Khlinat over to his side. Also, he knew it would help to have Khlinat on his side if possible when he presented the story to Jherek. As he talked, the dwarf poured them both fresh cups of spiced wine.
* * * * *
"How can I help you, my son?"
Jherek looked into the priest's eyes and saw the fatigue there. "I'm looking for a healing balm for a friend if you've any to spare." He opened his coin purse. "I'm willing to pay."
The Rose Portal was a shrine to Lathander, also called Morninglord, who was god of the spring, dawn, birth, and renewal, of beginnings and hidden potentials. Like the other buildings along the north wall of Baldur's