Under Fallen Stars - Mel Odom [72]
He told of his troubles with skill, something he felt guilty about taking pride in as he went along. Oghma forgive him any vanity as he struggled to find the music within him.
"Now this boy can't be found anywhere?" Duhzpin asked when Pacys had finished. If he was shocked at the far-reaching impact of Pacys's tale and what it could mean to all of Faerun, the priest didn't show it.
Pacys figured the man thought he was the biggest liar he'd ever seen, or Duhzpin was so strong in his belief he could handle anything. "No," the old bard said. "I've looked for him."
"Do you think it's possible he's dead?" Duhzpin asked.
Pacys started to say he didn't know, then he changed his mind about the answer. "No," he said, "I don't think he's dead."
"Why? That seems to be an obvious conclusion to draw."
"Because it doesn't sound right," Pacys said.
The priest lifted his eyebrows. "Doesn't sound right?"
Surprised himself, Pacys nodded. "That's exactly what I mean."
"And what are you listening to?"
Pacys pondered the question. "Myself." He felt the ache of desire fill him, and the frustration of not knowing. "Father, all my life I've searched for the legacy I was destined to leave. I know this is it."
"Finding this boy and singing of the Taker and his war against the surface world?"
"Yes."
"What makes you so certain of this?"
"My faith."
"In what?"
"In Oghma," Pacys answered. "He's seen fit to give me what little gift I have for music."
"You expect Oghma to work great things with it?"
"Yes." Pacys considered his response. "That sounds vain, doesn't it?"
"No," Duhzpin answered. "That sounds like conviction."
"Conviction?"
The priest shrugged. "I'm in a business of convictions."
"I thought that was a judge," Pacys bantered, wanting to break the string of somber words, "or a lawreader."
"Or career criminals," Duhzpin added, proving himself worthy of the diversion. "However, in this business, I've learned to hear the truth that people say-the things they believe in-and sometimes those things they believe in aren't the same things other people see."
"Are you questioning my belief, Father?" Pacys asked. The possibility shocked him to a degree.
"No," Duhzpin replied. "That's what you're doing. It's all you've been doing for the last three days. In fact, not only have you been questioning it, you've been agonizing over it."
"That's not right." Pacys didn't want to argue with the man in the temple he was responsible for, but neither did he think the man was correct.
"Then what have you been doing?" the priest asked.
"I'm trying to figure out what to do next."
"All by yourself?"
Pacys became somewhat irritated by the man's constant barrage of questions. "I've prayed about it, several times, and made offerings."
"Good," the priest said in happy satisfaction. "We can always use anything we get, but what have you been praying for?"
"That I might know where to find the boy again," Pacys said, "before it's too late."
"I see." The priest smoothed his beard. "But what if learning the boy's location isn't exactly what you're supposed to do next?"
"That doesn't make any sense." Pacys watched the younger priests moving through the crowded seats, offering prayers and assistance with prayers. Suddenly he wished he'd gotten one of them instead. They tended to give answers rather than demand them. "What else would I be doing?"
The priest beamed like a teacher who'd gotten through to a particularly dense student. "Exactly."
The old bard started to object, then he realized what Duhzpin was getting at. Pacys leaned back in the bench, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. He hadn't considered that. He'd locked in totally on finding the boy.
"If Oghma has put something before you as you believe," Duhzpin said, "then he will find a way for you to do it. That isn't within your realm. It's up to you to provide the faith and the strength to see it done, and Oghma