"No," Glawinn responded. "I don't think he will, but for a while longer yet, he will be."
Jherek folded the towel and looked around for his clothes. They weren't on the bunk bed where he'd left them when he'd gone to bathe in the crew's head.
"I took the liberty of seeing to your breeches," Glawinn said, taking them from the built-in chest of drawers. "I washed them while you were tending yourself, then dried them in the ship's galley."
Jherek took the breeches, amazed at how clean they were. He'd never gotten real clothes while on Black Champion or Azure Dagger, and the things he'd traded for while on Steadfast remained aboard her on the other side of the Whamite Isles. Azla sailed Azure Dagger around to the south of the island, intending to stop briefly at Agenais to replenish the ship's stores before returning Tarnar and his crew to their ship.
"Thank you,' Jherek said.
"I knew you'd want to look your best. Here are your socks."
Jherek took them and pulled the pants on. then his socks and boots.
"I'm afraid there was nothing that could be done about the shirt,1" Glawinn said, kneeling and taking his kit from under his bed. He opened the kit and pulled out a sky-blue shirt with white ruffles and belled sleeves. "I thought perhaps you could wear one of mine. The breadth of our shoulders are about the same."
"That's far too fine."
Jherek loved the look of the shirt but he couldn't imagine himself wearing something like that. Velen had been a simple sailors' town and he'd established early in his relationship with Madame Iitaar that he wouldn't accept charity. She'd accepted that, but she'd also cared for his clothing.
"Perhaps something else?" Jherek asked.
Glawinn didn't look in the kit. "There's nothing else." Ho hold the shirt up and said, "Unless you're prepared to walk out there with your father's tattoo showing for all to sec, I'd suggest accepting the loan."
Reluctantly, Jherek took the shirt. It felt incredibly smooth.
"Silk, young warrior, as smooth as a caress from Sune Fire-hair herself." Glawinn smiled. "That shirt has seen me through many a difficult situation."
"You wore this in battle?"
"In King Azoun's courts, where the pecking order is oft determined by dress. Put it on."
Jherek pulled the shirt on, amazed at the feel of it.
Glawinn took a mirror from his kit and hung it on a peg on the wall. "Let's have a look at you."
Feeling very self-conscious, the young sailor glanced at the mirror. The image he saw surprised him. His tanned face and pale gray eyes stood out against the sky-blue shirt. Sun streaks colored his light brown hair. The scar on his cheek lent him a roguish air. His gaze was direct, challenging. The past months had been hard, and they'd hardened him with it.
The look was all too familiar and disturbing. He turned from the mirror.
"What's wrong?" Glawinn asked.
"For the first time," Jherek said in a thick voice, "I saw my father's face in mine."
Glawinn was silent for a moment, then he stepped behind the young sailor and held his shoulders. Gently but firmly, the warrior turned him back to the mirror and said, "Look deep."
Jherek did, captivated by the unacceptable resemblance he now noticed. It was something about the set of his eyes, the square of his jaw. Maybe more, but at least those things.
"Young warrior," Glawinn said, peering into the mirror over Jherek's shoulder and still clasping him tightly, "you may find your father's likeness in your features, but you'll never find your father's ways in your heart."
Jherek nodded as if he accepted that, but he knew he didn't.
Thank you for the loan of the shirt," he said. "I should be going. We agreed to meet on the forecastle. This time of morning, it's the most private place on the ship."
He took his sash from his bed and wrapped it around his hips, then shoved the newly acquired cutlass through it. At first he'd felt guilty about taking the weapon, but it had come from the destruction of Lathander's disk, so he felt he owed it to the priests at Baldur's Gate to take it to them.
"There is one other thing." Glawinn took a small bottle from his kit. "Cologne. Hold out your hands." He pulled the cork stopper from the bottle and poured. "Rub your hands together and slap it onto your face."
Jherek did, finding that it stung the cut on his cheek, but it had a pleasant, if bold, fragrance. "You make me feel like I'm suiting up for a battle."
"All true affairs of the heart between two people who have the trials between them that you two have are battles, young warrior. Too often, in the right circumstances, a man's-and a woman's-dress is a weapon."
"I've got to go."
Glawinn put his hands on Jherek's shoulders again and said. "Wear your heart on your sleeve that she may know your mind truly. All the worries, all the fear, as well as all the love. When you are done, should you need me, I will be here in this room." He leaned forward and kissed Jherek lightly on the forehead. "Should I ever be blessed with a son, young warrior, nothing would please me greater than to see him turn out like you. May Lathander bless you."
The lump returned to Jherek's throat. It was all he could do to nod and walk through the door. He took the stairs from the nearly empty cargo hold that still stank of slavery and walked up on deck.
Morning tinted the eastern sky a rosy pink peering through wheat-colored clouds. Sabyna Truesail stood in the middle of it on the forecastle deck, peering east, in the direction Azure Dagger was headed.
Jherek gazed at her with longing. Though the rising sun behind her reduced her to a silhouette, he could picture every line and even,' rounded curve of her. No matter what happened from this moment on, he knew he'd never forgot that sight.
He crossed the deck hurriedly and went up the steps to the forecastle.
"Lady, I'm sorry I kept you waiting."
She turned at his voice, and surprise lighted her eyes.
"So it would appear well worth the wait," she said. "Had I known, I'd have dressed accordingly."
She wore dark green breeches and a white shirt with her sleeves rolled to mid-forearm. She'd bathed and combed her hair, and the scent of lilacs was gentle around her. Jherek thought he'd never seen a lovelier woman in all his life.
"It's the shirt," he said lamely. "Glawinn loaned it to me."
"He has good taste."
"I'll tell him you thought so." Jherek paused, wondering how to continue. How did you tell someone you cared about that your father killed her brother?
"Jherek, about last night," Sabyna said, "I was perhaps out of line."
"Does that mean you've changed your mind about talking."
Instead of feeling relieved, Jherek was anxious, wanting to be done with the secret he kept. It was confusing.
"No, we're going to talk," she said adamantly. "I meant it when I said I can't go on like this, but I think perhaps I could have waited for a better time or spoken somewhat less harshly."
"You did what you had to do, lady. I claim no foul there."
"Good, because I'm not leaving here without knowing your heart."
Jherek took a deep breath and said, "You know my heart, lady. It's my past you're unaware of." He paused, uncertain of where to begin.
"You said you were wanted," Sabyna said. "For what?"
"For things I never did, lady. I'm innocent of any crime, but I had the misfortune to be born the son of a bad man."
"No man is responsible for the mistakes his father has made."
"You may not feel that way after you hear the whole story." With a trembling hand, Jherek unfastened his sleeve, his eyes on Sabyna. "When I was twelve, I ran away from my father, from all the things that he did."
"That was a very brave thing to do."
Jherek forced himself to roll the sleeve up. "But I found running away didn't rescue me from my fathers heritage." Rolling over his arm, he showed her the tattoo of the flaming skull masked in chains.