"What a bleak, hard life you've set for yourself."

Jherek shook his head. "There'll be no false expectations."

"So you choose to believe in nothing?"

"Aye."

"We'll start with small beliefs, then," Glawinn said, drawing his sword. "Get your weapon out and I'll begin with trust with your eye and your sword arm, young warrior. Your eye and your sword arm-and well let your heart take care of itself." He waved his broadsword about in invitation.

"It's dark."

"Do you think every fight you're going to wage will be well lighted?"

"No." Jherek already knew that.

"Then draw your sword and show me your best. Or do you think you have anything better to do?"

Jherek stepped back and drew the cutlass from his sash. His left arm still hurt and was healing slowly. Dark shadows limned the paladin's face. In the next instant, the sound of steel ringing on steel filled the deck and echoed over the Alamber Sea.

Glawinn pressed him hard, driving him backward, coming closer than he ever had in practice to actually cutting him. "Come on, young warrior, show me what you have. Or has your disbelief exhausted your strength and skill as well?"

Growing angry but tempering it with the cold rage that filled him, Jherek beat back the attacks, stepping up his own retaliation.

"You'll believe in your eye and your arm," Glawinn promised again. "The heart will take care of itself. You'll see."

Jherek drove him back, circling closely to turn him to his weak side. He wished Glawinn would shut up.

They fought until Jherek's arm trembled and he was covered in sweat. The young sailor tried to beat back the paladin's offense, tried to chew through his defense, and tried to overpower him at every turn. Jherek fought until the rage filled him and slipped past his control. His blade moved faster. He no longer thought of any restraints.

"That's it, young warrior," Glawinn said softly. "Get it out. Let it all out."

"Shut up!" Jherek said.

"Get it all out. All the frustration and fear and anger. Give it to me. Once you get rid of it, you'll fill up again. You'll see."

Glawinn fought even more fiercely, his blade moved like a live thing hammered into the steel. Jherek couldn't even see the blades any more, only the red fog of anger that clouded his vision in the darkness. He was vaguely aware of the crowd of sailors that had been attracted to the duel.

"Give me your anger," Glawinn coaxed.

Jherek swung harder, faster, and sparks shot from the blades. His legs quivered from the strain of keeping up with his arm as they moved him across the deck. He concentrated all his hate on the paladin, just wanting the man to shut up.

Then, without the least indication of what he was going to do, Glawinn dropped his sword point to the deck, leaving himself totally defenseless. Jherek checked his swing with difficulty, missing a diagonal cross-body slash that would have cut Glawinn from right shoulder to left hip if it had landed.

"What are you doing?" he shouted. "I could have killed you!"

"Proving to you that you can trust your eye and your arm," Glawinn stated calmly.

"And what if I hadn't been able to stop myself?"

"Then I'd have been wrong."

Suddenly overcome with emotion, Jherek threw the cutlass down and turned to walk away.

Glawinn sheathed his own weapon and grabbed him by the shirtfront. "Where are you going?"

"Away," Jherek answered. "Away from you and this madness." He tried to push away, but the paladin held him too tightly.

"No. You must realize what you were able to do. What skills you have."

"I could have killed you," Jherek said hoarsely, not believing the man couldn't understand him.

"But you didn't. Don't you see that?"

"No," Jherek answered. "No, I don't. You took a fool's chance with your life."

"I trusted your skill so that you could trust it too. Your eye and your arm, Jherek. I'll teach you to believe, but we'll begin there."

"I could have killed you."

The image of the knight with his chest and belly split open filled Jherek's head and made him sick. Nausea boiled up inside him and Glawinn helped him over to the railing. Later, when he was finished and there was nothing else to give up, Glawinn pulled him back. Jherek's mouth was filled with the sour taste.

"And what if you had killed me, young warrior?" the knight asked in a ragged whisper. "Would it have mattered?"

"Aye"

"If you're so empty of caring, it shouldn't have. You may think your heart's empty, but it's not." Glawinn held him at arm's length, both of them breathing hard and covered with sweat. "It's not completely empty. Trust what's within your reach and the rest will come." Tears ran down the knight's face as he held the young sailor's face between his callused hands. "I give you my promise."

Jherek wished desperately that he could believe, but he couldn't. There'd been too many lies.

XXIX

2 Flamerule, the Year of the Gauntlet

Tarjana cleaved steadily through the water, deep into the territory of Aleaxtis. Vahaxtyl, the sahuagin capital, lay in ruins less than five hundred yards away, riven by the volcano's explosion the day before.

Standing on the enchanted mudship's prow, Laaqueel stared out at the destruction scattered over the bed of the Alamber Sea. It was worse than she had expected. For a time she'd feared none of the sahuagin community had lived through the fiery blast.

Huge, jagged rocks lay strewn across the blasted terrain. Dead fish floated in the dappled turquoise water and glinted silver where the weak sun's rays touched them. Small scavengers that had finally returned to the area worried frantically at the unexpected feast, concerned that larger predators would come at any moment. More rubble covered the skeletal remains of ships that had fallen to sahuagin savagery, battles, and deadly storms.

Dozens of sahuagin bodies floated in the currents as well, prey to the flesh-eaters also. The malenti priestess knew that those weren't all that had been killed. Many more corpses had surely remained trapped inside their dwellings when they caved in. Other bodies had been swept away by time and tide.

The living sahuagin worked among their dead, sharp claws and huge teeth stripping meat from the corpses for meals. The scent and taste of scalded blood and boiled meat hung in the water, constantly touching Laaqueel's nostrils.

"You are troubled, priestess?"

Slowly, not knowing how to properly broach the subject, Laaqueel turned to face Iakhovas. Her eyes met his even though she still wanted to show him deference. No matter what, she knew she couldn't lie. He would know and she didn't want that between them.

"Yes," she said simply.

Iakhovas walked to the railing and closed his hands over it. His face remained stern and hard. "Why?"

"So many lives of We Who Eat have been forfeited." She gestured out at the seabed. "They have lost their homes."

In the distance, the Ship of the Gods still simmered. White, foamy bubbles from superheated water spiraled to the surface. The currents threaded hot waves in with the cool ones that coiled around Laaqueel. Still, the volcano appeared to be in little danger of spewing deadly lava again.

"Ah, little malenti, your perception of things is off and you don't even know it."

A sudden flush of anger flooded Laaqueel. She turned to him.

"You forget, my priestess," Iakhovas continued before she could speak, "they didn't choose to make their lives here." He gestured at the heaps of rubble. "That's no home, no village lying out there strewn about and destroyed. This parcel of unwanted land is what the sea elves and mermen grudgingly gave this tribe of We Who Eat after the First Seros War over ten thousand years ago. They drove them here, then penned them in, and they've kept them here ever since." He held her eyes with his solitary one. "This was no home, priestess. This was a prison."