Tumora's luck lg-3

by Kate Novak

  The darkness dispersed.

  Ayryn's crystal ball fell to the floor with a clunk and rolled toward the audience.

  There was a stunned silence in the room.

  Bors came forward quickly and put a hand on Ayryn's shoulder.

  "Are you all right?" he asked.

  "Yes," Ayryn replied. "I… I was shocked, that's all." There were tears in her eyes.

  Montgomery came forward, holding out the crystal ball.

  "We don't have to continue," she said softly.

  Ayryn took her scrying tool and shook her head. "It would be a shame to end on such a sour note. Let me try again."

  Montgomery smiled and nodded. She returned to her seat.

  Bors stepped back and examined the audience. Many of them looked as shocked as Ayryn, but most hid behind impassive masks. One guest, though, was smiling.

  Bors felt his body stiffen. The guest was a woman, small of stature and slender, with long black hair. She was attractive and appeared quite young, but Bors knew her youth was a lie. The woman's name was Walinda. Once she'd been a priestess of the evil, now-deceased god Bane, j While the Sensates welcomed anyone who earnestly desired to be a member, Bors found himself thinking Montgomery must have temporarily taken leave of her senses when she invited Walinda into their midst, especially for so sensitive a performance. Walinda was, in Bors's opinion, a viper in woman's form. He could still feel the bump on the back of his head where she had clubbed him with his own frying pan. Had the paladin not sworn his undivided service as Ayryn's bodyguard for the evening, he would have challenged the woman's presence.

  The room darkened once more, though only slightly. Two figures appeared in the center of the room, a young man with red hair and a slightly older raven-haired woman. The pair were seated at a table, drinking ale. They were the size of ordinary mortals, but the woman sported a pair of copper wings, and her face was covered with black feathers.

  While the audience was busy trying to guess which gods they were seeing, Bors realized something had gone wrong with Ayryn's scrying. These people were not gods. The man Bors recognized as a priest named Joel, a Prime from Toril, the same world whose gods they were currently spying upon. Bors had never met the winged woman, but from a description his friend Holly Harrowslough had given him, he guessed she was another Prime by the name of Jas.

  "Jas, you're being ridiculous about this," Joel said. "Give me one good reason why you won't come with me."

  "I don't have to give you any reasons," Jas retorted. "This is my business. Why don't you just let me be?" The whites of her eyes flared, and her dark brown irises began glowing green.

  "You don't mean that," Joel argued.

  The vision quickly faded. Ayryn looked up, shaking her head. "Misdirected," she whispered in Montgomery's direction. "I'm going to try one more time," she said.

  The room dimmed somewhat. A god Bors recognized appeared in the center of the room. The deity was seated on a bench, strumming a lyre. He appeared as a handsome young man about ten feet tall with shoulder-length hair of spun gold. He wore a tunic of fine brocade with fur trim. Behind him was a great library, with shelves and shelves of books and scrolls. The god was Milil, Lord of Song.

  Milil looked up from his instrument. "At last, an audience," he said with a sly grin.

  Bors's body tensed.

  "Welcome, prying eyes," Milil greeted them. "I expect you to pay attention now. It's the least you can do after peering into my realm without invitation."

  Milil began to sing "The Baker's Daughter," a love song about a silver dragon's love for a mortal woman. His voice was deep and mellifluous. Several of the women in the audience sighed.

  Next Milil sang "Pipeweed Dreams," a halfling drinking song. Many members of the audience joined in, while others just hummed along softly.

  Milil sang "The Seven Sisters," a long ballad. Then he sang "Three Thayvian Roses," a bawdy festhall tune that brought a blush even to Montgomery's face. Finally he began, 'The Purple Dragons of Cormyr," another long ballad. A few members of the audience began to nod off. Milil woke them with a little shout. The concert continued. Milil began singing several old Torillian folk songs one about the weather, another about crops, and even one about milking cows.

  Bors stole a glance at Ayryn. Surely she cannot keep scrying for much longer, he thought. She must be exhausted.

  Ayryn's blue skin was pale. There was a glazed look over her eyes. Although deities could not enter Sigil, somehow Milil had managed to get some charm through the crystal.

  "And now," Milil said, "I have a truly special treat. "The finale from the opera The Fall of Myth Drannor."

  Bors slipped up to Ayryn and yanked the crystal ball from her hand.

  Mercifully, Milil's image disappeared.

  The audience shook themselves from their stupor. Montgomery laughed.

  "My, but wasn't that interesting," the Sensate leader said.

  I've heard that people commit murders at the operas and no one notices because everyone on stage is bellowing at the top of his lungs.

  — Olive Ruskettle

  ACT ONE SCENE 1

  Joel stood at the end of his last song and bowed to the audience. His long red hair fell forward and brushed the floor. The applause was loud and long and spiced with a few shouts of "More!" Joel made an exit, stage left. Though a very young man, he had been a bard long enough to know the three main rules of the entertainer. Don't turn your back on your audience. Don't upstage the act that follows. Always leave the audience wanting more.

  "And that was Joel, the Rebel Bard, at the end of his exclusive engagement here at Chirper's Seawind Theater," the master of ceremonies announced. "Coming up in ten minutes, our next performer, the renowned juggling act of Shar Nova."

  One of the stagehands slipped Joel a note.

  The bard perused the writing quickly. "Finally," he muttered. He slipped through the dressing room, tied back his hair, retrieved his sword and knapsack, and stepped out into the theater. Nonchalantly he followed a few members of the audience who were taking advantage of the break to leave the theater.

  Chirper's Seawind Theater emptied into Chirper's dining room. At this hour, the dining room was still very busy, so it wasn't easy picking out the author of the note. A woman with wings didn't stand out from the crowd in a place like Chirper's. As one of the most popular inns in Sigil, the City of Doors, Chirper's catered to a clientele as diverse as the multiverse. More than a few of the guests possessed wings, not to mention tails, horns, talons, and antennae.

  The native population of the Cage, as Sigil was called locally, was comprised mostly of humans, the humanlike githzerai; the half-ram, half-human bariaurs; the half-human, half-fiend tieflings; and a few elves and dwarves. The transient population outnumbered the natives by two to one. Creatures from every known world and plane were represented, and they all seemed to visit Chirper's. Evil fiends from the lower planes who stood several feet taller than an average human dined beside halflings no taller than human children. Creatures that looked like giant frogs argued across the dinner table with women with six arms and snake tails instead of legs. Beings whose bodies seemed to burn with fire broke bread with foxes and bears who walked upright and wore clothing.

  The only way to enter or leave Sigil was through one of the city's innumerable magical portals. Many of the visitors were stranded there, having stepped through a oneway portal and been unable to locate a portal that led home or been unable to find the right key to a portal that led home. Other, more worldly, visitors had come through one of the two-way portals as tourists to the city. Some came to negotiate with their enemies in the neutral city. And since, for some mysterious reason, the portals would not admit beings of godly power, a few came to do their god's bidding here, while others came to escape the gods.

  Joel had come to Sigil the first time searching for an artifact for his god. He returned to use the city's portals to disperse the pieces of that artifact throughout the multiverse, and to fulfill a
bargain made with one of the city's natives. Both tasks completed, the bard was anxious to leave Sigil, but not without at least saying good-bye to Jasmine of Westgate, one of his companions on his last adventure. After fruitlessly scanning the crowd, Joel pulled aside the maitre d' to ask where he'd seated the winged woman who'd sent the note. The maitre d' directed Joel to a small table by the bar. Joel found Jas sipping an ale just where the maitre d' said she'd be. She was not bothering to cover up her gargoyle-like wings of patina-tinged copper or the black feathers on her face. She wore a new outfit, consisting of leggings and a jerkin of black leather that clung to her slender, well-muscled frame. A short sword in a scabbard and an azure cloak hung on the back of her chair. Her dark black hair was cropped close to her skull, and it shone nearly blue in the amber light of the lantern hanging over the table.

  "Where have you been?" Joel demanded, taking the chair opposite her. He set his pack and weapon beneath his chair. "Holly and I were worried about you."

  "I hate just banging around," Jas explained. "So while you were away, I took some work as a private courier for a high-up. Blood wanted to have me at her beck and call. So I left Dits's to stay at her case."

  Joel grinned at the amount of Sigilian slang the woman had managed to pick up after only two weeks in this foreign place. Of course, that was to be expected. Jas was an experienced traveler. She knew how to make herself fit in anywhere.

  "So, did you and Holly unload all the pieces of the hand?" Jas asked.

  Joel nodded. The artifact whose pieces he had dispersed throughout the multiverse had been known as the Hand of Bane. He'd done it to help a paladin, Holly Harrowslough. Holly's god wanted to be sure the hand could never be made whole and used to resurrect the evil god Bane.

  "Holly's friend Bors showed us several portals to other planes where we could hide the pieces," the bard explained to Jas. "Holly spilled the pieces into the void out over the edge of the city. Then she was summoned to Elysium to give the ring finger of the hand to her god."

  "What's Lathander going to do with a stone finger?" Jas asked.

  Joel shrugged. "Use it for a paperweight? Who knows? Anyway, Holly was thrilled. She waited around for two days, hoping to see you, but she couldn't keep her god waiting. She left for Elysium this morning. She's not sure when shell be back."

  The bard nodded as Jas's waiter set a mug of ale down in front of him and a fresh one in front of Jas.

  "She's probably secretly hoping Lathander will ask her to serve in his court or something," Jas said.

  Joel nodded in agreement. That was his suspicion as well. As a paladin of the Order of the Aster, Holly lived to serve the god Lathander. "She said she'd send word back if she wasn't returning soon," Joel explained. "So we could return home."

  "Joel, you mean you're not keen to stay in the Cage?" Jas asked with a grin, using the slang term for Sigil.

  Joel gave a quick glance at the tables nearby to be sure he didn't offend any eavesdroppers. "No, not really. This city has more political intrigue than Waterdeep, the people are more arrogant than Westgate merchants, and the air's more foul than a Zhentil Keep sewer," he answered.

  "But that's all part of its charm," Jas replied.

  Joel studied the winged woman's expression carefully, trying to determine if she was serious. Jas came from the same world as Joel and Holly, a place Joel called the Realms, but which Jas referred to as the world of Toril in the sphere of Realmspace. Jas had traveled through the void to worlds in other spheres in a magical ship called a spelljammer. Joel found it hard to believe she was now prepared to settle down in this awful city, but their last adventure had changed Jas. Perhaps she had decided to give up her wandering.

  Jas grinned. "It does have one thing in its favor," Jas said.

  "What?" Joel asked.

  "I don't stick out like a sore thumb here," she said.

  "You don't stick out all that much," Joel said.

  "Ha!" Jas retorted. "Back on Toril, it was bad enough when I just had wings. Wizards were always trying to capture me to study me. People in the Realms would mistake me for a succubus or an erinyes and run me out of town. Once there was this kid who thought I was a were-eagle and tried to get me to attack him so he would contract lycanthropy and become a were-eagle, too. One crazy lich tried to put me in his harem just because of my wings. Gods only know what would happen if I went back to Realmspace now."

  "If you'd stay in one place long enough for people to get to know you, they'd feel differently about you," Joel pointed out.

  "Joel, you're too nice. Your friendship has made you blind to what I am," Jas declared. "Look at me… No, don't look away. Really look at me. I have black down and feathers all over my flesh and a crest of green feathers sticking out of my forehead. If I don't stay calm, my eyes glow like an owl's. Yesterday some snotty Taker tried to tax me twice in one hour, and I got so angry that one of my hands changed into a claw again. If that Taker hadn't been spry, he'd be missing an eye instead of just the tip of his nose. I'm more animal than human now. If I go back to Toril, there isn't anyone who's going to welcome me, except of course all those priests of Iyachtu Xvim."

  Joel took a sip of his ale, debating whether he should continue arguing with the woman. The priests of the evil god Iyachtu Xvim had transformed Jas with a curse, trying to make her a dark stalker-a hunter they could use for their own foul purposes. Jas had managed to fight the transformation and retain part of her humanity, a testament to her willpower. If she were to kill someone, however, Jas would transform completely and forever into a creature of evil. There was a way for her to overcome the curse, however.

  "Finder said he would try to help you," Joel said, reminding the older woman that his god had offered her his assistance. "All you have to do is ask. I've found a portal from Sigil to his realm in the outer planes. We can go there now if you want."

  Jas shook her head vehemently. "I'm going to handle this myself. I don't want any god's help."

  "Jas, you're being ridiculous about this," Joel said. "Give me one good reason why you won't come with me."

  "I don't have to give you any reasons," Jas retorted. "This is my business. Why don't you just let me be?" The whites of her eyes and her dark brown irises began glowing green.

  "You don't mean that," Joel argued.

  "Damned if I don't," Jas snarled.

  "Damned if you do," Joel whispered softly.

  The winged woman glared at Joel for a moment, then whirled about and grabbed at something behind her chair. Something yelped behind her. With a sharp yank, she pulled the something forward, depositing it on the table in front of her with a unceremonious thunk.

  The something was a small man with pointed ears and a topknot of very long brown hair. Over his indigo homespun trousers and shirt, he wore a scarlet vest covered with pockets and an orange cloak over that. He was holding a crystal paperweight full of some dark liquid, in which floated a thousand glittering specks. Joel recognized the paperweight. Holly had bought it for Jas as a gift to help remind the winged woman of the stars, which couldn't be seen in Sigil. Joel didn't recognize the small man. He guessed that he was some sort of halfling who'd just picked Jas's cloak pocket.

  "You lousy little halfling thief!" Jas hissed. She had both her hands about the creature's throat.

  Joel gasped, alarmed by the sudden transformation of Jas's hands into the talons of a bird of prey. Her claws were piercing the thief's flesh. Blood was trickling down his neck.

  "Ow! Careful with those claws," the creature squeaked.

  Joel put his hands about the winged woman's wrists and managed to pull one talon away from her prey. The little creature tried to pull away, but Jas caught a clasp of his vest with the claws of the other talon, and he was stuck fast.

  "You're mistaken, lassie," Jas's captive said with an offended air. "I'm not a halfling thief."

  "Halfling, tiefling, leprechaun-I don't care," Jas said. "It won't matter once I've put you in the dead book."

  "Render,
lass. I'm a kender," the creature said proudly. "I don't think I'd fit in a book, not even a great mage's tome, though once when I was a child I managed to crawl into a magic pouch. Magic is tricky, though, you know, and I couldn't find my way back out. My parents searched for me for hours. Finally I kicked my way out. Tore a huge hole in the back, ruined it. The man who owned it was furious, but, really, he shouldn't have left it lying around where a child could find it. I might have suffocated."

  Jas growled at the kender.

  "I was just going to ask if this was yours," the kender concluded quickly, holding out the crystal paperweight. "It's very lovely. Is it magical?"

  "Jas," Joel whispered softly, "think what you're doing. Let the authorities handle this."

  Jas snarled, deep in the back of her throat. If Joel were to release her wrists, she could tear out the kender's throat with a single blow or even break his neck.

  "For gods' sake, Jas, if you're going to lose your humanity, at least do it killing something your own size," Joel implored.

  "It reminds me of the stars on my home world," the kender said, peering into the crystal, apparently oblivious to how close he was to death. "Funny you can't see the stars in this town, or the sun. I miss the stars, don't you? Of course, if you're from around here, you've never had them to miss. Which is a real shame."

  As if they were a magical chant, the kender's words softened Jas's heart. Her eyes became human again; her talons transformed back to hands. She pulled her hands from Joel's grasp and pushed her chair away from the table. She put her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands so Joel couldn't see her face.

  "Is something wrong here, sir?" a waiter asked Joel.

  "Just a little misunderstanding," the kender said.

  Joel might have asked the waiter to remove the kender, but the creature was still bleeding from the wounds Jas had left about his throat. Brawling would get a person bounced out of Chirper's, but if they suspected Jas had drawn a weapon and wounded someone, the staff would alert the authorities.