"But to serve a god," Jherek said. "That would be-"

"A humbling experience, let me assure you. Though I serve him with my convictions, my teaching, and my sword arm every day, we don't converse. He fills my heart with a wanderlust that is as true as any compass, and I ride. When I arrive, then I discover where I'm supposed to be. It doesn't take long before I figure out what it is I'm supposed to do."

"Now you're bound for Westgate."

"Yes, and perhaps beyond. I don't know yet. I only know that I itch to travel, and that's the direction I must go."

Jherek tried to fathom that. "But you don't know why?"

"Not yet." Glawinn gave more of the apple to his horse. "What are you to do then?" Jherek asked, not really expecting an answer.

"I'm no teller of fortunes, young warrior. I'm much more a man of action. Like yourself."

Jherek shook his head. "I'm no man of action."

"Sure you are," Glawinn said. "I can see it in the way you hold your eyes, the way you balance yourself on your feet when you move. You're no stranger to the sword, are you?"

"I've had some training," Jherek admitted.

"You must have to have survived the wounds I see on you now."

"I've only a mean skill at best." Jherek felt bad about that because it undercut all the training Malorrie had given him over the years.

"Then strip out of that wet armor and let's have a look at it." Glawinn got lithely to his feet.

"Now?"

The knight took a long sword from his saddle and tossed it to Jherek. "Of course now. There's no better time. When we arrive in Westgate either your quest or mine may see us crossing sword blades with others. Perhaps I'll even need someone to stand at my back."

Jherek flushed with the honor he was being given. He took off the leather armor and hung it carefully from a tree so it would better dry. He also took off his wet shirt, not wanting it to slow his movements and so that it wouldn't get torn any more than it was because he had no other clothes. He also took off the kerchief he'd had tied around his head, being careful not to let the paladin see his tattoo when he lifted his arm.

"You've a wound on your head," Glawinn said. "Have you had it tended?"

"Aye."

"It doesn't appear to be healing well."

Jherek felt self-conscious, remembering that the wound was the reason Sabyna was there. "Circumstances haven't allowed it to heal at its best."

"Let me see it." Glawinn crossed over to him and examined it more closely. "It's healed some, but I can help still more if you'll allow me."

Jherek remembered the tales he'd been told, of how a paladin could heal and cure diseases with but a touch. He smiled and said, "I guess not everything in those romances are fantasy."

"A gift from Lathander, young warrior, and no doing of my own." Glawinn placed his hands on Jherek's head.

The young sailor experienced a moment of disorientation, a flicker of pain, then he immediately felt better than he had in days.

Glawinn stepped back. "How's that?"

"Good," Jherek answered. "Thank you."

"Your thanks may be premature, young warrior." Glawinn grinned and paced back to the center of the clearing. He raised his broadsword into an en garde position. "Move too slowly or awkwardly and I may bequeath you another rap on the skull for your trouble."

Jherek saluted him, then cut with the long sword to get the heft of it. The balance was good and it moved well, like it had been made for his hand. "All right," he said.

The paladin came at him without a word, and the sound of steel on steel rang out. Hesitant at first, Jherek held up a defense, then he started in with his attack, pushing at Glawinn's defenses.

After long moments, the knight stepped back, a smile on his face. He saluted the young sailor. Jherek saluted back, startled by the sound of clapping. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Sabyna standing there. Her copper-colored eyes held the glitter of excitement.

"Very good," she complimented.

"Lady," Jherek said, bowing slightly. Then, aware that he was shirtless, he went to the tree to get his clothes. He pulled his shirt on with his back to her, covered with sweat and breathing hard from his exertions.

"The boy is good," Glawinn said, sheathing his sword with a flourish. "With the proper training and time, he stands a chance of becoming an accomplished swordsman."

"I see. While the two of you were so gainfully engaged, did either of you happen to think about dinner?"

Jherek glanced up, noticing the deep plum color darkening the eastern sky where Westgate lay. "No, lady, I'm sorry. I'll take care of it straight away." He felt embarrassed, knowing he should have remembered how hungry she would be after getting no sleep last night and traveling all day.

"Actually," Sabyna said mischievously, "there's no reason to worry. I've already taken care of it." She held up a stringer of catfish. "I took a little time off from my studies."

A gin split Glawinn's short-cropped beard. "And a profitable time it was too, lady. You have our humblest appreciation."

"I caught them," Sabyna announced, "but I'm not cleaning or cooking."

"I'll take care of it, lady," Jherek offered.

He studied her face as he took the fish, noticing the fatigue clinging to her features. She hadn't said anything about Tynnel's actions or what they meant to her. She and Tynnel had been together for awhile. He couldn't help feeling that he'd torn them apart. If he hadn't shipped aboard Breezerunner none of the resulting confusion would have happened. He carried bad luck with him, just as Aysel and Tynnel had said.

"Are you all right?" she asked him.

Jherek smiled at her. "I'm fine. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I could help. I really don't mind cleaning fish."

"No," he said. "You've done enough, and I'd like some time to myself. Maybe when no one's looking I could grab a quick bath."

She nodded, and turned away from him, walking back to the knight and the campfire.

Too late, Jherek realized he might have hurt her feelings by rejecting her offer. She'd just walked away from everything she'd known out of a debt she felt she owed him. He thought of calling out to her, then decided not to. If she grew angry with him, maybe she would accompany Glawinn while he pursued Vurgrom the Mighty. Maybe he could even persuade the paladin to see her back to the River Chionthar and find a ship that would take her back to the Sea of Swords.

He walked down the hillside where the stench of the fish cleaning wouldn't overpower the campsite. One thing he was certain of: Where he was headed was no place for a woman.

XX

17 Kythorn, the Year of the Gauntlet

"Come, little malenti, you wished to see what your people spent their blood on. Now I will show you."

Hesitantly, Laaqueel crossed the throne room of the sahuagin palace, walking past the throne carved of whalebone, its jaws distended to hold the seat. Images of sharks and sahuagin stood out in bas-relief on the limestone blocks that made up the walls. She'd stood gazing through one of the windows overlooking the amphitheater.

Sahuagin warriors had assembled there to work on the fliers they'd gathered and built to undertake Iakhovas's latest mission. The fliers were seventy-five feet across at their widest and two hundred feet long, tapering at the ends. Salvaged wood from shipwrecks and surface dweller buildings on shore contributed to the construction. Each flier could hold up to six hundred sahuagin. Currently, there were fourteen fliers in various stages of preparation, and more were supposed to be coming soon. The deepsong had reached sahuagin everywhere-and they had come.

Iakhovas strode to the opposite end of the room where the huge image of Sekolah meeting the sahuagin occupied the wall. The image showed the Great Shark with the clamshell that had contained the sahuagin in his teeth, shaking out the sahuagin and releasing them into Toril's oceans for the first time. When Iakhovas touched the image, it shimmered and vanished.