Sands of the Soul s-5

by Voronica Whitney-Robinson

  As Tazi stepped across the threshold into the dimly lit chamber, she was almost overcome by the smell of rotting flesh. It took all of her control not to gag on her own rising gorge. Against the far wall was Ebeian's bed and Tazi saw what looked like his head and part of his torso. The rest of him was scattered in between. There were flies buzzing everywhere.

  As though moving through a dream, she carefully picked her way around and over what turned out to be chunks of her friend, littering the floor. Tazi had to duck under one of the cross beams because it was festooned with ribbons. She paused to stare at the innocuous sight, so out of place in the chamber of death, and Steorf, who had never left her side since she entered the room, murmured something. His right hand immediately started to glow and he held it up closer to the ribbons. Tazi blanched at what his light revealed.

  The ribbons hanging the length of the timber were entrails. She squeezed her eyes shut and swayed slightly, stepping on something decidedly spongy. Steorf grabbed her upper arm, fearing she might stumble. As soon as he did this, Tazi whirled to face him. His touch had galvanized her into action.

  "Who did this to him?" she demanded fiercely, her sea-green eyes blazing. Steorf involuntarily took a step back at her vehemence.

  "I haven't been able to discover that yet," he replied, "but I wanted you to know what had transpired without delay. Considering the nature of your friendship-" he paused, almost tripping on that last word-"what happened to Ebeian could come back to you."

  He looked down at her with his solemn gray eyes.

  It took a moment for his words to sink in. When they did, Tazi was indignant.

  "Are you saying you or someone else could think I did this to him?"

  "Once again, Thazienne Uskevren, you misunderstand me," he answered gravely. "When I discovered Ebeian like this, I was concerned there was the possibility that you might be in jeopardy as well."

  Tazi peered up at Steorf closely for a moment, weighing his words a little more carefully. What she said next was somewhat difficult for her to tender.

  "Thank you for that. We need to find out who did this to him, though, and why."

  Tazi could see various emotions briefly flicker across the young mage's face. He looked both pleased and sheepish at her words.

  The mage said, "I believe the best way for us to do that is to bring in a cleric of Mystra. He would be able to speak with the dead.

  "It is one of the necromancy spells," he added quietly, "that I have not yet mastered."

  Ignoring his look of discomfort, Tazi ordered, "Then do it now, before any more time passes. Judging by the smell and the flies"-she motioned to the clouds of insects-"we've already lost enough of that. I'll pay whatever they ask."

  Steorf looked hard at her.

  "Coin," he said evenly, "has never been an issue for me. Will you be all right here with him?"

  Tazi turned to face Ebeian's bed and nodded briefly. With that, Steorf turned like some great bird of prey and was gone, leaving Tazi alone.

  She stood staring at the bed a few paces away, collecting herself. With Steorf gone, the room took on a menacing air. Every creak the floorboards made as Tazi neared the bed she had often shared with the elf was like a scream. Her nerves were stretched to their limits. Death was something she didn't see much of, but when Tazi did, it was always horrific, and this time it had claimed someone close to her.

  Tazi reached the bed and could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes. She rubbed at them and forced herself to look closely at what was left of her friend. Carefully, she sat down near his remains and rummaged through her sack. She was surprised to find she had stuffed Alall's rag in there without realizing it.

  Almost gingerly, even though she knew Ebeian couldn't feel anymore, Tazi began to wipe his face free of the caked blood. She wanted to do something for him, to see his face as it had been, but she also needed to keep busy for her own sake. The coppery smell of blood was overwhelming and nauseating, and the entrails strewn about recalled a gruesome night for her. She found herself dragged into memories she had desperately tried to forget.

  Nearly two years before, on a night a little drier than this one, Tazi had gone out to play a trick on another suitor of hers. She had meant to pilfer a small gift she had presented him with, but she walked into a living nightmare instead.

  Her suitor, a mage named Ciredor, practiced a dark magic with a high price. Tazi had discovered his hidden sanctum and found that Ciredor had committed a heinous act. He had split open a young boy from Selgaunt Bay and pulled out various organs and entrails from his body but had left the child alive. He was using the boy's life-force as an energy source for his magic.

  Various clues had proven to Tazi that a then recent acquaintance of hers, a young woman from Calimport named Fannah, would likely be his next victim, and Tazi wouldn't let that happen. She realized that she needed to kill the boy to stop Ciredor, but he discovered her before she could take her first life.

  Tazi found herself in a fight to the death with the mage, but she wasn't alone. Steorf had followed her and he managed to temporarily distract the dark wizard.

  Steorf's concern for her safety proved to be a crucial error. Ciredor easily bound her friend against a wall and turned his attention to Tazi once more.

  She could still remember the excruciating pain when one of Ciredor's minor spells caused her hair to grow immediately to its former waist length. He had toyed with her mercilessly, and Ciredor delivered the final blow when he revealed that for the preceding seven years, her friend Steorf had been on Thamalon Uskevren's payroll, no more than a hired hand. Her father was buying her friends for her.

  Despite how devastated Tazi was by that discovery, she didn't let it stop her. She was able to use her emerald ring of protection to thwart the killing bolt of magic Ciredor had thrown at her. He was stunned that she had been able to stop him, and that was his downfall. Tazi, though blinded by terrible pain, managed to throw the small dagger she kept secreted in her boot into his chest. While he was incapacitated, she killed the young boy who had been his energy source. Weakened by the wound and the drain of the battle on his magic, Ciredor vowed revenge and fled, never to be seen again. Tazi was left alone with the ashes of the child she had killed and Steorf's betrayal.

  She shook her head violently. The smell of decay brought Tazi back to the present and was suddenly so overpowering that she ran to the window of Ebeian's room and flung it open. Leaning heavily on the casement, she breathed in the damp air and let the rain cool her face, but she could still taste ashes in her mouth when she thought of Steorf's betrayal. Nothing could wash that away. Tazi turned from the window and leaned against the wall, raking her hands through her short hair.

  What's happening? she wondered. How is it that Steorf is in my life again?

  Glancing at Ebeian's body once more, Tazi tried to determine what had transpired. Someone had killed him-that much was beyond obvious-but she started to look more carefully around the room. She rummaged through the wardrobe and his desk. Nothing was out of place and nothing gave her any answers. She felt sure Ebeian wasn't killed in his room. Someone would have heard all the noise if it had happened there. Ebeian would not have gone down quietly, Tazi was certain of that. Of course, a mage might have been able to cast a spell of silence while Ebeian was killed. Steorf had been the first to discover him and it looked like Ebeian had been dead a tenday at least. Steorf…

  "I haven't spoken to him in two years and now he shows up for this," Tazi wondered aloud. "What would he have been doing with Ebeian?

  "Dark and empty!" she yelled as she threw her hands in the air. "Why this now, when I'm next to useless?"

  Tazi paced back and forth, unwelcome thoughts pouring in. She couldn't fathom what kind of dealings Steorf might have had with Ebeian, but Tazi was certain that this was not a chance encounter between the two of them.

  Why wouldn't Ebeian have told me if he and Steorf were working on something together? she thought.

  It
was true that she had cooled many of her relationships after her injuries at the hands of the shadow demons, and it had been many months since she and Ebeian had shared any real time together. She'd shut everyone out as she struggled with her loss of ability and confidence. When she thought more seriously about it all, Tazi realized that she had let all of her associations drift away and she really didn't have any idea what any of them were doing with their lives. The more that fact sank in, the more she realized she didn't know what some of them might be capable of.

  "Look at Steorf," she pondered aloud. "In just the short time we were together tonight, he demonstrated more skill than I've ever seen in him before. Everything he did came so easily. Granted," she argued with herself, still pacing, "they were all minor spells but just how strong has he become? Just what is he capable of doing?" She moved back over to sit on the bed and looked down at Ebeian's delicate face.

  "I know you would be absolutely mortified if you could see what a mess this place is," Tazi chuckled, trying to keep a grip on her emotions.

  In a twisted way, it did seem as though someone had scattered his remains as though, in death, he wanted to mock the way Ebeian had chosen to live.

  And how many knew that quirk about him? she pondered.

  "I will find out who did this to you and make him pay," Tazi vowed quietly.

  *****

  "This doesn't seem to be working," Tazi whispered.

  "Give it some more time," Steorf replied.

  "It's nearly moondark now, and you arrived with this cleric-" she nodded her head toward the disciple of Mystra-"around midnight. How much more time do you need?"

  "This is not an easy spell," he answered. It was hard to tell, but Tazi thought Steorf sounded irritated. "I already explained that to you. Have some patience, for once."

  Before Tazi was able to shoot back a retort, the cleric of Mystra interrupted them.

  "It would be very helpful if one of you could tell me who Ebeian's patron deity was."

  "Thazienne should know that," Steorf said, turning to face the fuming Uskevren. "I believe you were closest to him."

  His almost sarcastic tone was not lost on Tazi. The night was weighing on both of them, and it showed.

  "It may have been Lathander, but that was something we never talked about," she said, directing her answer to the cleric. "I'll see if there's anything among his possessions that might give us a clue, but don't count on it."

  As Tazi started to rummage through Ebeian's meager personal belongings again, she looked at Steorf with new eyes. In the hours that had passed since he had gone in search of the cleric, Tazi had played out several scenarios in her mind. She finally concluded that Steorf would not have gone to all the trouble of finding a cleric if he himself had had a hand in Ebeian's murder. It would have been near to impossible to find a liar amongst those who served Mystra to aid him in some type of subterfuge, but she was troubled that it took the presence of a priest to prove Steorf's innocence to herself. While she might grant him the benefit of the doubt regarding Ebeian's death, she was still too proud and angry to ask what his business with the elf had been. Perhaps that was best left a mystery, for what would it matter now?

  She also knew she was becoming unjustly impatient with the cleric. These things did take time. While Tazi didn't bother much with religious matters, she was not ignorant of them. Still, it had been many hours, and the first thing Steorf and the cleric did when they arrived was to shut the windows and fill the room with burning incense. From the stench of decay to that perfumed odor was not an improvement. It was enough to make most sick to their stomach and Tazi probably would have been ill had she eaten much at the Kit. She almost wished the two would ask for a brief break… anything to step out of that place for a moment or two.

  But if the men wouldn't leave, neither would Tazi.

  "I'm afraid there's nothing here," she said to the cleric.

  The older man turned to face her. Neither Steorf nor he had bothered with any introductions, so Tazi didn't know his name. His purple robes with the seven stars and red mist clearly marked him for what he was, and that was enough. Tazi wished everyone could be so clearly labeled and known, inside and out. She was half-sick of secrets.

  "I am sorry it distresses you to be here," he told her, and Tazi was startled that her discomfort was so obvious to him, "but this is difficult."

  Steorf smiled when the cleric seemed to confirm his earlier statement, but his satisfaction was short lived.

  As though reading Steorf's mind, the cleric continued, "The spell itself is not too difficult to cast for someone who is accomplished. What makes this challenging is the length of time your friend has been dead and the condition of his body."

  The cleric's use of the word "friend" instead of corpse was not lost on Tazi. She was touched that the older man didn't refer to Ebeian as a carcass or some kind of object. He was able to see the elf as a person-or at least recognize that Tazi still did.

  "Please keep trying and ignore my impatience," she apologized with a forced smile, and the cleric returned to the task at hand.

  With renewed attention, the old man turned to his makeshift altar. Tazi and Steorf had pushed the small dining table in front of Ebeian's bed for his use. The cleric had proceeded to cover that table with several thick, pillar-style candles and a small incense burner. Tazi watched as he pulled a small leather pouch out from under the yoke of his tunic. With a quick snap, he broke the cord that fastened it to his neck and emptied the pouch's contents onto the center of the table. Tazi tried to move forward to get a better look as the cleric fingered through the various baubles, but Steorf motioned for her to hold still. She gave him a dirty look but kept her ground.

  The priest studied a small blue crystal he held near the candlelight and seemed satisfied with his selection. Intoning a few words, he tossed the stone straight up into the air. As it fell, he brought his hands together thunderously over it and ground the stone to powder in his clasped grip. Murmuring a prayer to Mystra, he emptied the contents of his hands over one of the candles. The room began to fill with a blue glow. Where Ebeian's head and torso lay, a vague shimmering began.

  Tazi let out her breath, unaware until that moment that she had been holding it. With wonder-filled eyes, she turned to the cleric but was startled to see the strain he was already under. His face was covered with a slight sheen of sweat. He kept his hands together in supplication and his eyes squeezed tightly closed. She couldn't quite make out the phrase he kept repeating again and again. Steorf gently touched her upper arm, and she turned her attention back to the glowing shape. A gasp escaped her as she saw Ebeian open his eyes.

  "We don't have much time," the cleric whispered, teeth clenched. His pain was obvious. "Something is blocking my attempts to reach your friend more clearly. Hurry and ask what you can!"

  With that, the cleric began chanting quietly again.

  Tazi looked at Steorf. He shook his head and said, "I think it would be better if you talked to it."

  "All right," Tazi hissed, "I'll talk with 'it'!"

  She turned to the shimmering face of her lover.

  "Ebeian?"

  There was a moment of silence, and Tazi felt a touch foolish speaking to the elf's torn face. She cleared her throat and was about to speak his name again when a whisper almost like a breeze carried across the room.

  "Who's there?" it asked.

  "It's me, Eb. Tazi."

  At the mention of her name, Ebeian's eyes became more focused beneath the enchanted shimmer that coalesced over his face and remains.

  "Where are you?" he asked, unable to turn his head. "I can't see you."

  Tazi moved closer to his bed and after a moment's hesitation sat down where she had been keeping vigil a few hours earlier. She reached out and touched his face.

  "I'm here," she told him, looking straight into his green eyes.

  Steorf stepped closer to her and whispered in her ear, "Hurry, Thazienne, we don't know how much time you have wi
th it."

  Tazi was still angered that Steorf kept referring to Ebeian as "it," but she also realized he was right.

  "Who did this to you, Eb?"

  Ebeian seemed surprised by her question.

  "You're the one who's done this to me."

  Tazi was at first shocked and puzzled by his response. Steorf recognized her confusion.

  "When you ask a question, the corpse takes it literally. The answer was correct. You are the reason the corpse is reanimated. You must be very exact," he explained.

  She gave him a quick nod and said, "Ebeian, who killed you?"

  "It was Ciredor," he stated simply.

  The silence in the room was deafening.

  Tazi's blood turned sluggish in her veins at the mention of that name. Her senses threatened to reel out of control and yet a part of her had known since she first saw Ebeian's body that there was no one else who could have done this. She felt Steorf place both his hands on her shoulders and, for the moment, was grateful for the contact. It was the only way she knew she was really there.

  "Ciredor is here?" she asked, still finding it hard to believe that the dark mage was back in her life.

  "I don't see him," Ebeian answered, trying to turn his head with his partially severed neck.

  "Remember, ask carefully as he takes your questions literally," Steorf reminded her gently. "I know it's hard," he added, and still he held on to her.

  "How did you come to clash with Ciredor?"

  Ebeian looked her in the eyes and answered, "Because of you, Thazienne."

  Tazi could feel the sharp stab of tears but bit back on them.

  "What did I have to do with it?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.