Previously: Esmiralda and her companions have discovered that the shattered ship--found upside-down and in the middle of a forest—was once captained by Harfirgorn the Merciless, a pirate of some repute that had long ago vanished. They find an old log book in the captain's quarters and decide to take it into the light, where they hope to discover more clues to his final resting place—and the treasure that he is most likely buried with...
Soon, the fire was doused and we set off to the north, toward the gray misted peaks of Gyst and the hidden dangers that awaited us there. It was a mild day, and the land was still fresh from the previous night's rain. The sky itself had been cleansed free of clouds and songbirds rustled in the leaves above and called out their musical warnings across the canopy.
Merrick took the lead, humming a vaguely familiar tune as he planted a thick branch in the earth in time with every other step. I stayed close behind him, my stomach still churning from my spider-limb breakfast. I smelled Seymuhr directly behind me. Broo Fang, silent as the forest creatures themselves, took up the rear.
The forest was silent, but my mind raced. Imagine: the lost resting place of Harfirgorn the Merciless! It was every Falcuhn's dream to make such a discovery, to record it for all time, to plug a hole in the history of the land or, more importantly, to close the tomb door and lock away a particularly dread evil. It was hard for me to believe that, mere days before, I had been down to my last coin, peddling maps for money to buy bread and ale. Now I was on a quest that could bring fame and, if my life-long luck changed, fortune.
"Do you...think that...this is a vain qu...est?" Broo Fang had appeared beside me so silently that I nearly yelped in surprise. I looked down at his wide, inquisitive eyes and disguised the stutter in my step as a trip over a root.
"I do not know," I answered. "I am hopeful, but it seems odd that someone so careful, plotting and devious as Harfirgorn is reputed to be would leave such a map behind. And his witch? Adalane...?"
He nodded. "I a....gree. Yet it is poss....ib...le that they did not know of....it." His speech was so slow that I was tempted to finish his sentences for him. "Their evil made them arrogant enough to...o...verlook the chance for de....feat."
"True." Then it hit me. I suddenly understood why the monk was such a trained fighter and why I had rarely seen anything but a smile on his face. "You're an Optimist!" I exclaimed.
He bowed slightly, his eyes half closed and his smile growing. He never broke stride.
Indeed, that would explain it, the philosophy and the training went hand in hand. In these troubled times, anyone who traveled the world trying to spread good cheer and sunshine had better be able to defend themselves.
"I had no idea," I murmured. Indeed, I had never seen one. Optimist Monks were as rare in these lands as were the agents of the Ministry of Human Preservation that Merrick belonged to. He had, indeed, put together a strange company. Again, I wondered at the forces that brought me to them.
Was there some higher purpose at work? If so, should I follow, or leave as soon as I was able?
"I know of no....other way," Tane said quietly.
"How did you come to, er, take up the robe?" I wasn't sure how to ask the question.
"It is the only 'robe' I've known," he said. "I was aban...doned as a small child. The priests at the Temple of...the...Sun told me they found me one day, squealing and red....faced with fistfuls of my mo....ther's hair. That...is...all."
I was silent. I could envision the scene and the thought behind it. A harried young woman, unable to deal with an enraged infant. I guessed that the monks at the Sun Temple saw something in that yowling babe that his own mother could not. Whatever the reason, it was understandable that Broo Fang Tane would cling to their doctrine of hope despite daily evidence to the contrary.
"Well," I said, a bit awkward. "I am glad they brought you in."
He smiled again, pressed his palms together and bowed. We walked on.
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