Under Fallen Stars - Mel Odom [66]
"Not far," Khlinat said, "but I'll wager me good boot that the swabbie hasn't found anything there. The Flaming Fist would have descended on all them places and taken what they needed already. Maybe he's giving a look 'round and seeing what he can turn up. Betwixt ye and me, I think he needed some time to himself to think."
Pacys nodded. Still, the creeping feeling that something might have happened took root in his mind. He'd come so far to find the boy, and had so much riding on the finding of him.
"So why do ye seek the swabbie?" Khlinat stuffed the bowl of his pipe with pipeweed and set fire to it. "Them mermen could have found anyone to deliver the message."
Pacys deliberately hadn't revealed his own part in the prophecy. "You mean someone younger." His fingers continued to stroke the yarting's strings, and to his great joy, he found additional chords as he sought them out. They were notes and measures that normally signaled traveling. It was confusing.
"If ye insist on being so indelicate," the dwarf said with an unabashed nod, "then aye."
Pacys smiled, showing he took no offense at the suggestion. "I don't know. All I can say is that I was told this was meant for me. Tell me, friend Khlinat, have you heard of Thoreyo?"
"Him who sang 'Short-Hafted Hammer and the Wizard's Tall Black Tower?'"
"Yes." Pacys had chosen the song deliberately.
"As a dwarf, how could I not know of that song? It is one of the most popular dwarven brawling songs-barkening back to the days when the dwarves warred with one another to build their empires across the Far Hills."
"What about Yhitmon?"
There was no hesitation in the dwarf. "Ah, 'Strangled Leaves of Lily-Grass and the Goblin-King's Betrothal.' I've hoisted a few pints of bitters and sang along with that one meself." He grabbed his cup and held it high.
"And would-be noble, himself a worthy warrior among goblinkin,
"In his own eyes,
"Did take upon himself to find a wife.
"So sword to hips
"And prayer to lips,
"He did ride, so boldly ride,
"To the House of the Rising Sin."
At the end of the stanza, the dwarf burst into laughter that turned into a coughing fit.
Pacys waited patiently till it passed.
"Now there, by Marthammor Duin's watchful eyes," Khlinat swore, "is a drinking song made for men who love the taverns."
"Yes," Pacys said, "and when you think of Pacys the Bard, what songs come to mind?"
Khlinat looked embarrassed. "Ye have caught me at a bad time, singer, otherwise I'm sure I would know of one."
"No," Pacys said quietly. "I've written songs, and good songs at that, but never a song that has captured the hearts of Faerun the way the ones we've mentioned have. I was drawn to the music early. Now I am in the winter of my years and I find I have no legacy to leave."
"Ye believe the story of the Taker is yer legacy?"
For a moment, Pacys felt uncomfortable. Part of him felt embarrassed ^about making something so grandiose about his part in the dark war rising from the seas of Faerun, and part of him felt silly for believing so easily. But the song had existed, so he believed.
"I've been told that it will be."
"And ye believe?"
Pacys hesitated only a moment before saying, "Yes."
Khlinat nodded. "Belief is a strong thing. And song, by the gods, there's something to forge a man's belief to his dream, make him reach for something that he never thought would be bis. There's such power in songs."
Pacys felt pride at the dwarf's description.
"I remember a tale," Khlinat said, "told me by me old grandda, and it twice-told at least a thousandfold ere he ever gave it to me. About Twahrm Kettlebuster, a hidden dwarf of the Far Hills."
"I've heard of it," Pacys said, remembering the little known song. He didn't play it much except in front of a select dwarven audience, and there had been few of those in recent years.
"Now mind ye," Khlinat went on, "old Twahrm weren't no trained bard, nor was he gifted in any way. Them what heard him sing said it was punishment should be set for only the most black-hearted of folks. But one day