by Kate Novak
"Jas's condition is getting worse," Finder said.
Joel nodded. "I don't think it will ever improve in a place like Sigil, but the way she looks, she doesn't want to go home."
"Sigil's restless atmosphere is only part of the problem," the god explained. "Iyachtu Xvim's power and influence is growing stronger throughout the Realms. Jas's condition is a reflection of that."
"You said you might be able to help her," Joel said.
"I'll try," Finder said, though he didn't sound hopeful.
Joel could read his god's mood. "You're not sure if you can, are you?" Joel asked.
"I suppose I'm just feeling less certain because I haven't yet succeeded in gluing this rock back together," Finder said. He took up both halves of the stone. "And, of course, Xvim is more powerful than I am. It's entirely possible the priests of Xvim just shape-shifted Jas's form and relied on Jas's own hatred and anger to transform her into a creature of darkness."
"But how can that be?" Joel asked. "Jas isn't evil and her will is strong."
"She was forced to watch as Walinda systematically tortured her friend Arandes and the rest of her crew to death. She was a victim herself of the priestess's sick practices. That changes a person, even one with a will as strong as Jas's. That doesn't mean there isn't some way to help her," the god added, mustering a little more enthusiasm. He juggled the two halves of the stone in one hand and gave Joel a wink.
"I also told Emilo Haversack you might be able to find his home and help return there," Joel said. "But then, you know that, too, don't you?"
Finder nodded. The god had the power to sense whatever occurred in Joel's presence. He didn't need Joel to explain how he'd met the kender. "Yes, I know of his world. Krynn, it's called. I can show him a magical gate that goes there," he said, "though I suspect he's not in any big hurry to get back. Kender spend a good portion of their lives in wanderlust."
"He did seem pretty curious about Jas's spelljammer stories," Joel recalled.
"I'm more curious about the circumstances that brought him to Sigil," Finder said. "Magical vortexes don't lead from Krynn to Sigil."
"So you don't trust him?" Joel asked.
"Let's just say I'm uncomfortable because I can't predict the outcome of his actions. The vestiges of a superstition from my mortal days remains in me. Halfling luck, they called it when I was a boy."
"But Emilo's a kender," Joel said.
"He's a short person with clever hands and a quick wit who's been thrust under mysterious circumstances into my priest's life. I can't help but wonder what will come of it."
"So should we just send him home?" Joel asked.
Finder shook his head. "Not unless he wants to go. Whatever or whoever brought him here isn't a force I want to trifle with." From the stairway came the sound of Emilo's chatter and Jas's laughter. Finder stood as the winged woman and kender entered the room.
Jas looked over at Finder. She shifted her weight to one foot nervously. She was uncomfortable asking anyone for favors, and Finder was no exception.
Finder didn't make her ask, however. "Jasmine, there you are. Joel says you've agreed to let me take a stab at reversing your condition."
"If you're not too busy," Jas said without enthusiasm.
"My appointment calendar is empty. Have a seat," Finder said, pulling forward the chair from which he'd just risen.
Jas sat down with her ankles crossed and her hands in her lap, looking like a prim schoolgirl.
"I'm going to do a little metaphysical examination first," the god said. "Shouldn't hurt, but I'm going to have to touch you."
Jas shrugged.
Finder reached out with his right hand and touched Jas on the forehead lightly with his fingertips, then stepped back. He studied her for several moments.
"I'm going to attempt a transformation now," the god said to the winged woman. "Relax. Don't resist the magic."
"I'm as relaxed as I get," Jas said through clenched teeth.
Finder reached out and laid his hands on Jas's head.
Immediately the winged woman's form started to shimmer like the air over hot desert sand.
"It's working," Emilo whispered.
The feathers covering Jas, from the green crest on her forehead to the small black down on her face and hands, began to sparkle. Jas brushed at them irritably, and they fell from her flesh as if she were a molting bird. Her skin glowed softly, and the scaly pores that held the quills sealed over. She was left with the same rosy complexion she had when Joel had first met her.
"Why does she still have the wings?" Emilo asked Joel in a whisper.
"They weren't part of the curse," Joel explained. "She had them before that." Jas's eyes were fixed on the floor.
Finder placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked.
Jas looked up into the god's eyes and shook her head. "The dark stalker is still in me. I can feel it," she whispered. There was a trace of fear in her voice.
Finder looked surprised for just an instant. "Hmm," he said. "Well, let's try something else, shall we?" He reached out with both hands and laid them on Jas's head. His hands began to glow with blue light, which seemed to seep into the winged woman's body. Very gently Finder's hands touched Jas's forehead, her eyelids, her lips, her ears, and finally her shoulders. The blue light seemed to shine out of Jas's flesh, then faded. Finder stepped back with a smile.
Jas sighed. "That didn't do it either," she said. "It's still inside me."
Finder stroked his beard thoughtfully. Then he said, "It's possible, since Iyachtu Xvim had a hand in your curse, that you will need help from a god more powerful than Iyachtu Xvim."
Jas sighed. "It's never easy, is it?" she muttered.
"We can pop on down to Brightwater," Finder suggested, "and have Tymora take a look at you."
Jas glared up at Finder.
"Or not," Finder said.
"I need to think," the winged woman said. She stood up and strode over to the door. As she hurried up the stairs to the top of the tower, she called out over her shoulder, "I'll be back later."
"Should I follow her?" Emilo asked in a whisper.
"Can you fly?" Finder asked.
Emilo looked momentarily confused by the question. Then he understood. "You mean she's going to fly off to do her thinking?"
"That's what she usually does," Joel said. "Is there some reason she doesn't want to see Tymora?" he asked.
"She and Lady Luck have a history," Finder said. "It would be better if she told you about it herself."
"Why?" Joel asked. "Don't you know it?"
"Better for her," the god explained. "It will help her decide what to do in the end. In the meantime, why don't you get some sleep? You kept watch last night while Jas and Emilo slept; you must be dead on your feet. I'll entertain Emilo. We'll call you when Jas gets back."
The moment Finder mentioned it, Joel became aware of his exhaustion. 'There's a bed calling my name somewhere in this manor. I can hear it," he joked.
Finder led him to a room furnished with a four-poster bed and heavy curtains covering the windows. Then the god and the kender left him to rest.
Joel stripped off his boots and clothing and slid between the satin quilt and the featherbed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so comfortable. Sleep did not come immediately, though. He spent a long while wondering about what kind of history Jas had with the goddess of good luck. Whatever happened, in the past or the future, the bard was determined to help the winged woman overcome the curse of Iyachtu Xvim.
Operas, like the gods they so often portray, are a mystery to me. They are a mystery wrapped in an enigma swallowed by contradiction and covered by a silken shroud of dark chocolate and best served with hot milk before a nap.
— Giogi Wyvernspur
INTERMEZZO
Holly Harrowslough watched anxiously as the petitioners and proxies of Lathander Morninglord bustled about the temple.
She couldn't believe she'd been bro
ught here, but she hadn't dared argue with the messenger. Lathander had sent a deva, a creature of pure goodness made corporeal, to summon her. The deva had resembled a young man with milky white skin and silver hair and, of course, wings of shining white feathers. As he had approached her in the streets of Sigil, several persons had scurried off in fear, while others had stood staring in openmouthed awe.
The deva could have taken the last piece of the Hand of Bane back to Lathander, but the celestial creature had insisted that Holly was to bring it in person. Since then, the paladin had spent hours in fruitless speculation of what purpose her coming here might serve. Now that she had arrived and was possibly only moments from learning the answer, the suspense made her nervous. The honor was more than she'd ever imagined she'd be paid in her lifetime, and she was only sixteen. Morning Glory, Lathander's realm, was a land of perpetual dawn, and Holly found its rosy hues breathtakingly lovely. Yet the realm's beauty did not bring her a perfect peace. She was afraid that the thing she hoped for most would not come to pass. The paladin's first vision from Lathander had awakened in her a desire to devote herself more fully to her god. Her arrival in Sigil and subsequent visits to other planes had opened her eyes to how much wider her world could be. Ever since Bors Sunseed had told her there were beings called proxies, mortals who understood their gods' purposes and desires and worked directly to achieve them, Holly knew that was what she wanted to be. Such a decision was not hers to make, however. Lathander alone could decide her worthiness. Yet Holly wasn't even sure if she'd been summoned to meet the Morninglord.
A freckled redheaded woman surrounded by a radiant aura came out of a room in the back of the temple. She wore the red-hued robes of Lathander's clergy. As she approached she smiled at the young paladin.
"Bright dawning, Holly Harrowslough. Welcome to Morning Glory," the priestess greeted her.
'Bright dawning, Dawnbringer," Holly replied. For some reason the paladin felt completely at ease in the priestess's presence. Holly's nervousness subsided. She found herself grinning uncontrollably.
"I am Aurora Brightday," the priestess introduced herself. "I've been asked to speak with you before the Morninglord is ready to see you. He's busy with a task of some importance at the moment. Let's walk, shall we?" the priestess suggested, leading Holly from the temple back outside into the dawn light. "How was your journey here?" she asked as they strolled through an orchard of peach trees.
"Fine," Holly replied. "I'm sorry I got a late start. I was hoping to see a friend before I left Sigil."
"But it only took you a day to arrive. You made good time," Aurora noted.
"I traveled mostly by riverboat," Holly explained.
"Any adventures?" Aurora asked with a gleam in her eyes.
"I rescued a little girl's doll that fell in the water," Holly said, jokingly recalling her minor act of heroism.
Aurora smiled. "Anything else?"
"Before I reached the river port, I spent a while speaking with an asuras who was guarding a bridge over the river," Holly said. She didn't really think Aurora would find the encounter notable, but for Holly it had been most interesting. She'd never met one of the flame-winged, talon-footed asuras before, and the one at the bridge had been the finest figure of a man Holly had ever seen.
"It is said that those who face the examination of the asuras at the bridge are blessed for a short while with his gift to tell truth from lie," Aurora said. "What did you talk about?" she asked.
"About the battle over the Hand of Bane," Holly replied. "Do you know about that? Lathander sent me orders to get the hand and destroy it, but I couldn't fight my friend Joel to take it away from him. His god wanted to trade it for his own stolen power, but the banelich they were dealing with betrayed them. They finally destroyed the banelich and the hand themselves."
Holly's voice wavered uncertainly as she explained. "Lathander sent me a vision telling me it was all right that I didn't fight my friend for the hand. I would have lost anyway, but that wasn't what stopped me. I owed my life to both Joel and his god. Bane was almost resurrected, which would have been a great evil, but then Walinda, a priestess of Bane, learned she couldn't trust her own god. So not only wasn't he resurrected, but Walinda also ceased worshiping him. So a greater good came out of not fighting Joel and Finder. Lathander said that it was more important to follow the spirit of his orders so that greater good is accomplished than to just follow the letter of the law."
"But even though it served goodness, you still felt guilty that you couldn't obey Lathander's instructions to the letter," Aurora guessed.
Holly nodded. "That's what I had to explain to the asuras when he asked me if I felt guilty about anything. The riverboat captain told me that the asuras was barmy, that he asked everyone that question before he let them pass. The asuras helped me clarify how I thought and felt about it all, though," the paladin explained.
"So an irrational asuras can also serve the cause of good," Aurora suggested.
Holly smiled. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but it's true, isn't it?" Aurora took up Holly's hands in her own. "You are a quick learner. That is good."
The paladin's blush was evident, even beneath her dark brown skin. She grinned again.
At Aurora's bidding, they resumed walking, and Holly spoke in greater detail about her most recent adventure trying to thwart the resurrection of Bane.
The orchard gave way to a meadow, through which flowed a small stream. They crossed over the stream by way of an arched bridge. Birds twittered excitedly in the meadow, flying low over the grass to catch insects. From somewhere downstream came an odd hissing noise and an annoying clanging. Aurora directed Holly to travel in that direction.
There was a clearing where the stream intersected a second stream. In the clearing stood a great complex clockwork machine constructed of metal, marble, glass, and gemstones. The hissing came from steam escaping from a valve at the top of a huge brass barrel. Beneath the barrel burned a fire so hot its flames shimmered with white and blue. Attached to the barrel were pieces that moved up and down or back and forth, causing the clanking. The moving pieces disappeared into a giant sarcophagus mounted atop a pedestal. Rising from the sarcophagus were chunks of glass and crystals, which glowed and sparked.
"What is it?" Holly whispered to Aurora.
"My gift to the Morninglord," a deep voice answered. The voice rang throughout the clearing, but its source became obvious when a figure stepped out from behind the sarcophagus. The figure was that of a tall man whose beard and hair were flames and whose robes shimmered with the colors of fire. Holly was a tall girl, as tall as some men, but the fiery-haired figure towered over her. He had piercing green eyes, which for some unknown reason made Holly feel uncomfortable.
Aurora bowed respectfully toward the man, and Holly followed suit.
"My Lord Sirrion, allow me to present Holly Harrowslough," the priestess said. "Holly, this is Sirrion of the Flowing Flame. He is an ally of Lord Lathander's and a god of a people on a world in a sphere far from your own. Lord Sirrion is building a machine to help with a magical spell so that Lord Lathander can right an ancient wrong."
"What will the machine do?" Holly asked the foreign god.
Sirrion's fiery eyebrows raised in surprise. "Your people speak whenever they choose, don't they?" he asked Aurora.
Holly felt her blood rush to her face as she realized she'd just addressed a god so blithely, but Aurora came immediately to her defense.
"Holly Harrowslough is an honored knight of the Order of the Aster, Lord Sirrion," the priestess replied. "Lord Lathander encourages his followers to question what they do not understand that they might learn and so better serve the Morninglord."
Sirrion grinned. "And what service can one so young and tender perform for the Morninglord?"
"You told Lord Lathander that you would need help in assembling the materials for your… spell," Aurora answered.
"Yes. So?" Sirrion asked.
"Lord Lathander inten
ds to assign Holly Harrowslough to the task," Aurora said.
"Her?" Sirrion laughed. "She's no more than a slip of a girl. I need warriors. Lots of warriors."
"Lord Lathander has every confidence Holly Harrowslough can accomplish the task at hand," Aurora replied calmly.
Holly could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Pride coursed through her every vein.
As he looked down upon the paladin, Sirrion's green eyes glowed for a moment. Holly was struck with a chill and the feeling that she had seen those eyes before, but she couldn't recall where or when.
"Well, since that's the case," Sirrion said, "I suppose she will do."
"Good," Aurora replied. She turned to the paladin and said, "Holly Harrowslough, it is the Morninglord's wish that you collect such materials as Lord Sirrion instructs you to. When all is in readiness, Lord Lathander will come to aid in the spell, and you will receive his thanks."
"I will serve faithfully," Holly said, making a formal bow.
Aurora nodded. "May the joy of the dawn give you strength," she said to Holly. She bowed to Lord Sirrion and turned to leave.
Lord Sirrion watched the priestess walk back upstream for several moments without a word.
"What does the machine do, Lord Sirrion?" Holly asked the god. "And what am I to fetch for you?"
Lord Sirrion looked down at Holly again and smiled. "Come closer, and I will explain all," the god said. "The machine will help with a magical spell so that Lord Lathander can right an ancient wrong."
Holly nodded slowly. Sirrion had repeated exactly what Aurora had told her, yet there was something different about the way he said it. Something rang false in Holly's ears. It was possible that she simply mistrusted the god because he had offended her pride. Perhaps, though, it was true that her talk with the asuras had left her for a short while with the gift of telling truth from lie. Whatever the case, Holly was sure that Sirrion had just lied to her and that there was malice behind his falsehood.
Opera is the sound of nightingales sighing in sympathy over the tomb of a maiden whose ghost weeps of its broken heart, lamenting true love lost and wasted-except when it sounds more like cats on a still summer night, yowling in heat right outside one's window.
