by Kate Novak
The Hardhead leader nodded. “Got it. You three can wait here,” he told Jas, Joel, and Emilo. “Follow me, men.”
The Hardheads followed their leader into the dark mists of Sigil, intent on apprehending the amphibian culprit.
“Let’s go,” Jas whispered.
“They told us to wait here,” Joel replied.
Jas rolled her eyes and sighed. “They said we could wait here. They didn’t say we had to. If you think I’m waiting around so I can testify against a hydroloth in a Sigilian court of law, you’re nuts. I’ve had it up to here with this whole dark-stalker problem. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to keep from getting delivered to Iyachtu Xvim, even if it means asking for help from another god. Now, are you going to take me to Finder or not?”
“All right,” Joel agreed before the winged woman had a chance to change her mind. “Let’s go. This way,” he said, heading down the street in the direction of the Civic Festhall. Jas followed.
Emilo trotted along beside Jas. “This scholar friend of Joel’s that we’re going to see—is that Finder?” the kender asked.
Jas nodded.
“Is he really a god?” Emilo asked excitedly.
Jas shrugged. “He and Joel seem to think so.”
Joel turned and shot Jas an annoyed look.
Jas grinned. “But neither of them claim that he’s a real important god,” she explained.
“But he lives in a place called Arborea?” Emilo asked.
Joel nodded.
“Is that in the stars?”
Joel shook his head. “It’s one of the Outer Planes. That’s where our gods live … most of them anyway.”
“Is that different from the Lower Planes, where the frog creature came from?” the kender asked.
“The evil gods dwell in the Lower Planes, one of which is called Gehenna. That’s where the frog creature came from. Arborea is one of the Upper Planes. Finder is a good god,” Joel explained. He shot a challenging look at Jas, but the winged woman made no comment. Her mind, Joel could tell, was on the evil god in Gehenna whose priests were trying to enslave her.
Act One
Scene 3
Bors Sunseed slipped quietly back into Factol Montgomery’s private reception hall where she was evaluating the evening’s performance with her advisers.
Montgomery’s consort Da’nanin looked up at the paladin. “How is Ayryn doing?” he asked in a soft voice.
“She’s resting comfortably. Just exhausted,” Bors replied.
“Good, good,” the bariaur Annali Webspinner said. As the registrar for the society, Annali had “discovered” Ayryn’s gift first, and consequently felt a certain protectiveness toward the scrying genasi.
“More importantly, will she try it again?” Adviser Kenda Fretterstag asked.
“That’s a decision she should sleep on, I think,” Bors replied, keeping the tone of his voice completely neutral. Kenda charmed more people with her statuesque beauty than she did with her magic, but Bors did not care for the human sorceress. Her interests were always selfish.
“Just so,” Quellig, a wizard, said. “Time for me to go, I think. I had a perfectly lovely evening, Erin.” He took the factol’s hand and kissed it, giving her consort a sly glance. The wiry-framed, blue-skinned Quellig was a tiefling, with all the love of mischief and flirting for which tieflings were renowned. “You throw such interesting parties.”
“Thank you, Quell,” Montgomery replied, rising to her feet. “And you are always such a perfect guest.”
Taking the hint, Kenda and the other advisers rose and bid their host and hostess good night. Then they filed from the private reception hall. When the last one had gone, Bors closed the door behind them.
“My lady,” he addressed Montgomery.
“What is it, Bors?” the factol replied.
“Two matters,” the paladin said. “First, I was curious how that Prime, Walinda, managed to insinuate herself onto the guest list for this evening. Security is a very sensitive matter. That is why you asked me to serve this evening. Did you know she was a priestess of the god Bane?”
“Of course I knew she was a priestess of Bane. However, now that Bane is dead and Walinda has abandoned her quest to resurrect him, I am not overly concerned that she might rat on us to her god,” the factol said with a grin. She curled up on the sofa beside Da’nanin.
“How do you know she hasn’t already offered her services to the Baneson, Iyachtu Xvim, or one of the other evil gods who’ve filled in the void of power left by Bane?” Bors objected.
“I’ve spoken with her at length,” Montgomery replied. “I don’t think that’s very likely. She’s rather soured on gods of the male gender at the moment. She played by all his rules, yet Bane did not reward her as was her due. It’s left a rather large scar on her. As a matter of fact, I asked her to come this evening to help her search out a goddess to whom she might be willing to offer her services. Frankly, I’m surprised by your reaction. She said your friend Holly Harrowslough recommended she come to us.”
“Holly was taunting Walinda when she suggested that. Walinda was belittling our quest for sensations. She is too fixated on her own sick desires to understand a decent pleasure.” Bors halted. He remained silent for several moments, trying to find how to put his feelings into words that did not offend.
Montgomery did not need his words to know his feelings. The topic of discussion between them was not a new one. “Walinda came to join us, Bors, and Annali was convinced of her sincerity. Annali has always been completely impartial in such decisions, and I am not about to override her nomination of a registrant. Walinda has made all five of her recordings for us, and they have been approved.”
“I see,” Bors said, lowering his eyes. All initiates were required to make recordings of worthwhile experiences that focused on the five senses. Once an initiate had contributed recordings covering all five senses and those recordings had been accepted, the initiate became a full member of the faction.
“Yes, so you should,” the factol replied. “Walinda is a Sensate now and entitled to the rights and respect deserving of her position. I expect you to welcome her as you would any other member.”
“Lady, she is not just any other member. If you keep this woman among us, you will regret it one day. You know that I have done my best to get along with persons whose greed or jealousy or hatred or lust for power has poisoned their souls. But Walinda’s evil is different. Walinda takes pleasure in the pain of others. Walinda takes pleasure in inflicting that pain.”
“That was obvious from the recordings she made for us,” Montgomery replied. “You should consider experiencing one of them. Perhaps you would understand her better.”
“I would prefer to understand sickness from a distance, lady. The sensation of putrefying my soul does not intrigue me in the least,” Bors said coolly.
Montgomery’s eyes flashed angrily.
Da’nanin set his hand down gently on the factol’s and said, “Bors is entitled to his repulsion. Walinda’s feelings could not, after all, coexist with Bors’s specific specialization.”
The paladin gave the half-elf a grateful look.
Montgomery calmed down somewhat. Like many of the more powerful Sensates, Bors specialized in a particularly esoteric range of sensations. The paladin was exploring all the aspects of purity of the heart. Da’nanin knew well that the factol was more than pleased with the paladin’s work in the field. She enjoyed the recordings he made and collected from others.
The factol sighed. “You may be right. What was the second matter you wished to discuss?” she asked the paladin.
“I thought you might be interested to know the identities of the two persons Ayryn scried when she was misdirected,” Bors said.
“Yes,” Montgomery agreed.
“They are friends of Holly Harrowslough, the ones that were seeking the Hand of Bane. The winged woman’s name is Jasmine, a spelljammer sailor, and the red-haired man is a bard named Joel. Joel is
also a priest of a god named Finder.”
“Finder? I don’t recall any god called Finder. Is he a god of Toril?” Montgomery asked.
“A very minor new power,” Da’nanin interjected. “There’s a book about him making the rounds, as I recall.”
Bors nodded. “It’s a tale Joel told to a bookseller named Dits. To get to the heart of the matter, Tymora, the goddess of luck, is an ally of this god Finder. Apparently Lady Luck had a hand in seeing that Finder obtained godhood when he destroyed another evil god. When I asked Ayryn, she said she was indeed trying to scry for Tymora when she was misdirected to the two mortals.”
“That’s interesting,” Da’nanin said. “Tymora’s spell misdirected us to her ally’s priest. Could there be meaning in that, do you think?”
Bors shrugged.
“Can you find these people, Joel and Jas, so we can speak with them?” Montgomery asked. “Perhaps Holly knows their location.”
“Holly left for Elysium this morning,” Da’nanin reminded her.
“Oh, yes. Called hence by her god. Now, there’s an experience!”
Bors nodded in agreement. “Joel is still in Sigil. He’s been staying with the bookseller I mentioned before, a bariaur named Dits.”
The door to the private reception hall opened suddenly. Annali Webspinner poked her head in and whispered excitedly, “They’re here! The man and the winged woman that Ayryn scried tonight. They’ve come to speak to Bors.”
“Very efficient, Bors,” Da’nanin teased. “How did you do that? Mirrors? Time travel?”
“Please show them in, Annali,” Montgomery requested.
A few moments later, Joel, Jas, and Emilo found themselves ushered into a private reception hall. Joel looked slightly surprised. He had expected to speak with Bors alone. The presence of the half-elf and the lovely Montgomery left him momentarily speechless. He was agonizingly aware of how dirty and disheveled he must look after his combat with the priest of Xvim.
Fortunately the paladin seemed to recognize the bard’s discomfort. Bors stepped forward. “Lady, allow me to introduce Joel of Finder. Joel, this is our factol, Erin Darkflame Montgomery, and her adviser, Cuatha Da’nanin.”
“I’m pleased to meet you. Welcome to the Civic Festhalt,” Montgomery said to the bard. She did not seem to be taken aback by Joel’s appearance, but smiled warmly at him.
Joel bowed. “Allow me to present my companions, Jasmine, and Emilo Haversack. Please excuse our interruption, but Holly led me to understand that you might allow me access to your portal to Arborea. We were hoping to travel there as soon as possible.”
“Ordinarily we charge a fee for that, don’t we?” Montgomery asked Annali. The bariaur adviser remained by the door, too curious to leave.
“An exchange of a sensation recording,” Annali said. “An important one.”
Joel hesitated. He was not shy about sharing his experiences with others; indeed, that was a large part of his training as a bard. He had already related his most important experience to Dits the bookseller, who had recorded it in a more traditional medium with paper and ink. Dits had then made a tidy profit selling the story as an adventure serial in three parts, and a small fortune selling the collected serials. Joel had been glad to see the tale get an audience, since it helped spread the word about Finder. Making a Sensate recording would guarantee an even larger audience, but there were things about the Sensates’ recordings that disturbed the bard. They could be made by anyone, since there was no particular skill required of the person making a sensation recording. They were also said to be so real that those who played them back sometimes came to prefer them to the reality of their own lives.
“Is it true you were a companion of your god Finder for quite some time before he revealed to you that he was a god?” Da’nanin asked.
“Yes,” Joel admitted with a sheepish grin.
“That moment must have been quite wonderful for you,” Da’nanin guessed. “It would be just the sort of thing we would love to have on a recording. But … you did say you were anxious to travel to Arborea as soon as possible. We’d be willing to send you through our portal now, and you can record for us when you return to Sigil.”
The half-elf must have read Dits’s book, Joel realized, and understood how he felt about Finder. Somehow that made the bard feel as if Da’nanin might be trusted. “Your offer is most gracious,” Joel said. “I accept.”
“Perhaps your companions would consider making a recording for us sometime as well,” Montgomery suggested. She turned a winning smile on Jas and Emilo.
“Be glad to help out any way I can,” the kender said with a low bow that sent his topknot sweeping the marble floor. “I’ve had lots of interesting experiences.”
“And you, Jasmine? I’m sure you must have something to share with our audiences,” Montgomery said.
“Not unless your audiences enjoy the feeling of being cursed by the gods and having their lives completely disrupted,” Jas replied in a honey-sweet tone that mocked the factol’s own, yet did nothing to cover her own bitterness.
Joel looked down at his feet, embarrassed by Jas’s behavior, but Montgomery was completely unruffled by the winged woman’s rudeness. “Some of them just might,” she replied.
“Oh,” Da’nanin said, “just one thing. In cases such as these, where someone owes us a recording, Annali usually insists we get a lock of hair or some such trifle as a token of good faith.”
Joel nodded in agreement.
“Well, then,” Annali said, “if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the portal.”
“Thank you,” Joel said, bowing low to the Sensates. Annali led the three visitors through a doorway in the back of the private reception hall.
When they had gone, Montgomery asked, “Cuatha, my love, what do we need with a lock of that young man’s hair?”
“Give it to Ayryn,” Da’nanin replied. “It will make it easier for her to scry for him.”
“You clever, devious man,” Montgomery said, tugging playfully on the half-elf’s earlobe.
“Joel is a man of his word,” Bors insisted. “He will honor the bargain. Why do you need to scry for him?”
“Bors, Bors,” Montgomery laughed. “Think. Joel is going to Arborea. What is he going to do in Arborea?”
“Visit his god, perhaps. I believe Finder makes his home in that plane somewhere near Bright—” Bors paused, realizing what the factol had in mind. “You’re hoping to scry and record their meeting,” Bors said, realizing what the factol and her consort had in mind.
Montgomery nodded. “And who knows? Perhaps they’ll visit Brightwater.”
“Where Tymora makes her realm,” Bors noted.
“Then we might get a glimpse of the elusive Realms goddess of good luck,” Montgomery said.
Act One
Scene 4
Jas slid her dagger blade across several strands of Joel’s hair near the nape of his neck. “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” she muttered to the bard. Joel gave her a weary smile as he retied his hair back up with a strip of leather.
They stood before a doorway in some dark, secret chamber. Annali had brought them here via two magic portals, but Joel felt sure they were still somewhere beneath the Civic Festhall. He could hear music playing somewhere above. He took the strands of his hair from Jas and handed them to Annali.
“It’s a lovely color,” the bariaur Sensate said as she wrapped the strands around her fingers.
“Thank you,” Joel replied.
“You need to take these,” Annali said, handing Joel three acorns. “They act as a key to the portal. Simply step through. Your friends should follow right behind you before the portal closes. When you arrive, you’ll be facing the Gilded Hall of the Sensates. It’s a place of great beauty … some would call it a paradise. I do not think you will be visiting there, though, will you?”
Joel shook his head. “I have another destination in mind. Thank you again,” the bard said, bowing briefly bef
ore the bariaur. He turned and stepped through the magic portal. Jas and Emilo followed close on his heels.
They emerged on a wooded hillside beneath a moonlit night sky. A mild breeze cooled, but did not chill, the summer air surrounding them.
“I can’t believe you gave them a lock of your hair,” Jas said, stepping in front of Joel. “They could use that in all sorts of magic spells,” the winged woman lectured. “You know that, don’t you? What were you thinking?”
The bard was temporarily distracted by the sight of Jas’s wings. Whenever she traveled to a different plane, her wings took on a new form. Her face was still covered in the black feathers that had come with the curse of Iyachtu Xvim, but since she’d stepped through the magic portal, her wings were no longer hard and metallic, but feathered, as they’d been in the Realms where she’d been born. In the Realms however, her feathers had been white, tinged with pink. Here in Arborea, they were deep blue, brilliant green, and sparkling gold, in the pattern of peacock feathers.
“Joel, stop looking at my stupid wings,” Jas snapped with exasperation. “How could you let them have some of your hair?”
Joel sighed. “Jas, Holly said I could trust Bors. I trust Holly’s judgment,” he said.
“It’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen,” Emilo said softly.
“What?” Jas growled, prepared to berate the kender for admiring her wings.
The kender pointed outward.
Jas looked up, then breathed in sharply in astonishment.
“The Gilded Hall,” Joel said. “Annali didn’t exaggerate. It is a place of great beauty.”
In the distance, across a valley, on the opposite bank of a shimmering river, stood a castle that seemed to glow in the moonlight. It was crowned with several domed towers of varying sizes, from graceful spires that soared into the sky to massive halls that hugged the hillside. The reflections of the moon and stars sparkled on the domes and on a tremendous fountain outside the castle, which splashed as high as some of its towers. Waterfalls spilled from the fountain into a cascading stream, which glittered all the way down to the river. Fertile fields and lush woodlands covered the outlying lands like plush velvet surrounding a rare and stunning piece of jewelry. Although they were some distance from the castle, Joel could have sworn he smelled roses and petunias from the gardens. He even imagined he heard laughter and music wafting across the river valley.
