"He's too young to know what you ask," Glawinn interrupted. "A promise from him-"
"Is all that I will settle for," Dehnee said. "Otherwise, you are on your own."
"You know of the portents and magic that surround the Sea of Fallen Stars," Azla said. "Some are saying that ancient prophecies are being fulfilled, that an old evil is descending upon us."
"That's not my concern." The diviner stared at Jherek and he felt the pull of her gaze. "What is your answer?"
"Young warrior," Glawinn said gently, "don't agree to these terms. Wait until a more proper time."
"Time is against us." Jherek spoke clearly, but his words sounded distant.
"There is much for you to learn," Glawinn persisted.
"It's only a favor," Jherek said. "I owe a debt to the temple of Lathander…"
"Do you accept?" Dehnee asked.
Dehnee took his hand back in hers, holding both of them again. "Swear to me that you will honor my request, and that you will never lift your hand against me."
In the periphery of his vision, Jherek saw Glawinn's stony face and knew that the paladin didn't approve.
"Lady," the young sailor said, "I swear that I will honor your request and will never lift a hand against you."
"Swear by your god."
Jherek's throat tightened. "Lady, I'm sorry. I recognize no gods. I am adrift in my beliefs and hold no anchor."
The diviner's eyes studied his face, searching.
"He speaks the truth," Glawinn stated coldly.
"I can see that. Yet he's no stranger to falsehood."
Shame burned Jherek's cheeks. The only things he'd never been completely forthright about concerned his heritage and his true name-and those he'd hidden primarily from Sabyna.
"Not in this matter," Glawinn said.
"It's strange to think of one such as him without strong beliefs."
"As may be, lady," the paladin said, "but so it is."
Dehnee tightened her grip on his hands and said, "Then name something you believe in, boy."
An incredible weight seemed to descend on Jherek's chest. It felt impossible to breathe. He had confessed to Glawinn that he believed in nothing. The paladin swore to teach him to believe again, but hadn't told the young sailor what he was supposed to believe in. Only now there was a huge gaping emptiness where his faith in the gods had once been.
"My eye and my sword arm," he croaked in a tight voice, remembering what Glawinn told him he would believe in first. "I believe in those."
"No," the diviner said. "Those things you trust in, but that is no real belief. Search yourself, boy, tell me what you believe in."
Jherek thought furiously, trying to find some quote, some philosophy Malorrie had taught him that he could cling to in that moment. Memories piled in on him, breakfasts shared with Madame Iitaar, battle sessions with Malorrie, sunsets he'd seen sink into the waters off the western coast of Velen.
He recalled the smell of the blueberry pies Madame Iitaar made for him, the feel of the paper of the books Malorrie loaned him, the satisfaction he got the day he first finished mending Madame Iitaar's roof, already knowing the woman had more work for him and a bed as well.
He remembered the cake he'd gotten from Hukkler's Bakery to celebrate Madame Iitaar's first birthday since he'd gone there to live. An image of Madame Iitaar at her husband's grave filled his mind. The old woman had grown a special flowering plant, then planted it on the grave in remembrance. Her smile that day, both sad and joyous, was something he'd known he'd never forget.
And he remembered the first day he'd seen Sabyna. He avoided talking to the pretty ship's mage then, fearing himself too backward and too entrenched in lies about his own identity. He'd admired her from afar, watching how she managed Breezerunner's crew so efficiently and effortlessly, the easy way she smiled and the graceful way she moved with the ship's roll.
"What do you believe in?" Dehnee asked again.
"These are troubling times for him," Glawinn said.
"He knows what he believes," the diviner replied. "All he has to do is give voice to it."
Jherek faced the woman, feeling scared and alone, but his thoughts kept focusing on the same images. Madame Iitaar hadn't been forced to take on an orphaned boy and make a home for him. Whatever drew Malorrie to him hadn't ensured the bond that grew between the phantom and the boy. He didn't doubt the way he felt about Sabyna. When he'd met her again in Baldur's Gate, his spirits soared. Even though he knew he could never be good enough for her, he knew how he felt about her.
"Tell me what you believe in," the diviner said in a softer voice.
"Love," Jherek whispered, knowing it was true. "I believe in love."
The diviner's hands suddenly shook as if palsied. Her eyes went wide. The sea lion beside her snarled irritably, one forepaw flexing, then drawing back.
"By the gods," the woman said in hoarse surprise.
Embarrassed, the young sailor risked a glance at Sabyna, not knowing what she might make of his answer. Her gaze didn't meet his, but unshed tears glittered in her eyes.
Jherek felt like a giant hand reached inside of him and tried to yank his heart from his chest. He sat up straighter, knocking the cutlass from his knees, his chest suddenly too tight to breathe.
The feeling of being yanked out of his own body passed as suddenly as it came, dropping Jherek back to the floor. He gasped, then his breath came back to him in a rush. Awareness returned to him, making him feel as though a part of him was gone, but he couldn't name which part.
"Your promise," the diviner stated in a strained voice, "is accepted."
"Lathander help you, young warrior," Glawinn said gravely, "as I will if I am able."
Jherek sat, stunned, unable to explain what had passed between the woman and him. He had no doubt that it would have consequences.
Dehnee took her hands from his and lifted the astrolabe from her lap. She spoke over the device, calling out in a language Jherek couldn't understand. A purple flame filled the yellowed crystal and threw a lambent glow over the room. A moment later and the light shrank back inside the astrolabe.
"It's finished," the diviner said, and offered the instrument to Jherek.
The young sailor reached for the astrolabe, his limbs feeling like lead. When he touched the polished surface, an icy chill filled him.
"All the readings you take from that astrolabe will give you the position of Vurgrom's ship and not your own," Dehnee said.
"You took a reading from the disk for Vurgrom," Azla said.
The diviner didn't try to deny it. "Yes."
"What did you learn?"
The diviner shook her head. "Not much," she said. The disk is protected from the small skills I have."
From what he'd been through in the last few minutes, Jherek doubted the diviner's skills were in any way small. He wondered what brought her to the Dragonisle, and why to that place's most desolate harbor. Had it been through choice, or need? How would that affect the promise he'd made her?
"But you learned something," Azla said.
"The disk is designed to lead its possessor to a weapon," Dehnee said.
"What weapon?"
"I couldn't see that much, but I know it lies somewhere off the coast of Turmish. In the vision, I was able to see that coastline and the druids that care for the place. In the past, I've been there."
"You're certain of this?" Glawinn asked.
"Yes."
The paladin faced Jherek and asked, "Did the talisman ever try to guide you?"
The young sailor thought back. He had possessed Lathander's disk for only minutes. "No."
"Maybe the disk isn't guiding Vurgrom either," Sabyna offered.
"It is," Jherek told her.
"How do you know this?" asked Azla.
"Because," the young sailor said, "I felt it come alive in my grasp."