The old priest finished his prayer, and the priests around him echoed his final appreciative sentiments toward the Morninglord. The rheumy eyes gazed up at Jherek.
'You are the one,' the old man said. 'The one who has come to Baldur's Gate at the time the sea has risen up against all of Faerun. The one who will somehow find a way to stem the tide of dark reaping.'
Jherek immediately shook his head, feeling trapped. 'No. You've got me confused with someone else. That can't be right. You don't know who I am. Or what I am.'
'I don't have to know,' the old priest said. 'All I have to do is believe in Lathander and let his hand guide mine. It's all I've ever needed. There is a final proof.' He took back the splinters of dragon bones and put them back in the pouch, then he took from his robe an oval pearl encased in a gold disk nearly as large as Jherek's palm.
The gold was soft and buttery, showing numerous scratches and hard usage. As the old priest turned the object in his fingers, Jherek noted that the flat side of the pearl had been cut, raising a trident overlaying a silhouetted conch shell from the gemstone.
'I was told by the man who gave me this all those years ago,' Cadiual said, 'to give this to the young man who appeared in this temple on the night the sea powers wended their way into Baldur's Gate to strike against us.'
'Why?' Jherek asked.
'You must stem the tide.' Cadiual held the half-pearl out for him to take.
'No,' Jherek said hoarsely when he realized the priest meant to give him the gem. 'I'm not who you think I am. I can't be.'
'Take the gem.'
'I can't.' But Jherek wanted to so badly he could barely restrain himself from plucking it up. Such a destiny must lie before the person that gem was truly meant for. He'd no longer have to be known as Jherek Wolf's-get, son of the bloodiest pirate of the Nelanther Isles. But to stem the tide of sahuagin that ravaged the Sword Coast? How was that going to be possible?
'It's yours,' Cadiual said. 'I felt it when I closed my hands over yours. You are the one.' He grabbed Jherek's hand and placed the pearl in it.
Immediately, the young sailor thought the gemstone glowed soft pink but that could have been only a trick of the light. Still, it felt natural for him to hold it. He gazed into the pink-stained depths, trying to make sense of the trident and the conch shell emblazoned on the face of the pearl. If he were the one, wouldn't the secrets be unlocked for him? In the novels Malorrie had given him to read, things like that always happened to the heroes.
But he knew in his heart he couldn't take it. The gem-stone was obviously meant for someone other than him. Someone better. The old man had gotten unbalanced with his age and the responsibility given him.
'What am I supposed to do with it?' Jherek asked, thinking that his lack of knowledge would be a clear indication that the wrong person had been entrusted with it.
'I don't know,' Cadiual admitted. 'Nor do I know for sure where it came from. The man who arrived here came from the east. I had a gemologist look at it once, and he said perhaps it came from as far away as the Inner Sea. There was something about the way the pearl was constructed, about the layering.'
'Then why bring it here?' Jherek asked.
'Because this was where you were going to be, of course,' the old man snapped. 'You have so little faith. Why is that?'
For a moment, Jherek was almost moved to tell the priest everything, from his childhood to the tattoo revealed on Finaren's Butterfly that had cost him the only good life he'd known, but he couldn't.
He offered the gemstone back to the man.
'No,' Cadiual replied. 'I've not made the mistake here. It's you and your lack of faith, and that's something between you and your god. I can only offer guidance.'
'You've made a mistake,' Jherek said in a level voice.
'No,' the priest said confidently. 'I've made no mistake.'
He put his thin hand on Jherek's shoulder. 'Go and find your destiny, young sailor. For though I don't know it, I feel it will be something truly grand. But the way will not be easy.' The rheumy eyes locked with Jherek's. 'Find your faith, boy, find your faith and cling to it so that it will make you whole.' He turned and walked away.
Desperate, Jherek looked at the other priest, then offered the pearl to him.
'Ghauryn,' Cadiual called without bothering to turn around, 'I've carried that gemstone since before you were born and I've grown weary of its burden. I thought death was going to steal my life away before I had the chance to finish what I was given to do. Don't you dare touch it.'
The other priest shook his head at Jherek.
Reluctantly, Jherek closed his hand over the gemstone. It felt warm and sure, and he was surprised at the confidence that seemed to radiate from it. He had no doubt that they'd given it to the wrong man. Perhaps, though, he could return in the morning and the old priest would have had time to rethink what he'd done.
He thanked the priest for the bandages and salves and walked outside. He belted the healer's items in a bag at his side, but he kept the pearl out, not wanting to release it.
'Are you his woman?'
Startled by the question but wanting to buy herself some time, Laaqueel stood in Bunyip's stern and gazed at the western sky. The fires that had burned Baldur's Gate had dimmed somewhat, but an angry yellow glow like fresh broken seagull eggs still carved a pocket from the dark sky in the distance.
The malenti priestess kept her hands on the ship's railing, holding fast. The dark waters of the River Chionthar slid back from where she stood, cleaved by Bunyip's prow.
Behind her, Bloody Falkane came closer, till he stood right behind her. He kept his voice soft and low. 'I asked you a question.' His tone held command.
Immediately, Laaqueel rebelled against that authority. She turned to face him, a prayer to Sekolah on her lips and her hand resting on the long dagger at her hip. Her trident was only an arm's reach away, but she knew he could move quickly and intercept her.
'You have asked a question,' she replied, 'and I have deigned not to answer it.'
Bloody Falkane stared at her with hooded eyes. His foul surface dweller's breath fell against her cheek. She knew he was handsome in the way that surface dwellers counted themselves so, and there was a cruelty about his dark eyes and mouth that a sahuagin could appreciate.
His oiled black hair was pulled back, but strands blown by the wind leaked down into his face. Silver hoop earrings caught the moonlight and splintered it. His mustache and goatee were carefully trimmed, leaving the tattoo of the bunyip coiled in mid-strike on his left cheek. He wore a black shirt trimmed in scarlet open to his chest, and scarlet breeches tucked into knee-high boots rolled at the top. A long sword hung at his left hip, balanced by the three throwing knives on his right.
Falkane smiled. 'I could make you answer.'
'You could die trying,' Laaqueel promised in a cold voice.
'Ah, Laaqueel, that would be such a wondrous thing to see. My skills against your skills.' Moving slowly, Falkane touched her hair with his fingers, stroking it.
Not knowing how she was supposed to handle this situation according to Iakhovas's strictures, Laaqueel allowed his touch. Never in her life had a man, an elf, or a sahuagin touched her so.
'Do not,' she warned, 'think to overstep your bounds with me.'
'Or what?'
Laaqueel had no answer. Iakhovas had joined with the pirates of the Nelanther Isles without her knowledge, only revealing the fact to her shortly before he'd killed Huaanton and proclaimed himself king. She didn't know what those alliances entailed, or how she was supposed to handle them. She stared hotly back at Falkane, hating the fact that she couldn't speak on her own.
'Do you know what generally happens to people who threaten me?' the pirate captain asked.
Laaqueel didn't reply. She'd heard a number of stories about Bloody Falkane, the Salt Wolf. His whole past was spun of violence and fear.
He dropped his fingers from her hair, tracing her jawline.
The malenti controlled herself, not flinching from his touch. He held no power over her. If anything, he might
