Tarl smiled. "I'd be happy to return it. And under the circumstances, I'll bet that Tyr will light this artifact at least once more."
As midnight neared, the friends said good night and trickled away to the guest rooms in the tower.
Evaine packed some of her belongings for the next morning's journey, then slid into a real bed for the second time in months. As she lay thinking, the giant cat jumped up to share the bed.
Mistress, the cat communicated, there's something I've been meaning to ask you.
The wizard was dozing off, but she prompted the cat to continue.
How many babies have you delivered in your long and adventurous lifetime? Gam asked.
Babies? Why, that was my first.
But you told Tarl you had done it before. The cat stared at her.
I told him no such thing. I simply told him my age, and he concluded the rest. I didn't lie to him, but I gave him an answer that stopped his worrying. Now go to sleep, Gam. And don't hog the blankets.
The cat stared at his mistress a moment longer, then lay his chin on a giant paw. There was no limit to the surprises buried in this woman.
Soon Gamaliel's purring penetrated the bed and lulled them both to sleep.
EPILOGUE
Phlan was back in place. Her citizens immediately busied themselves putting their homes and their lives in order. The Moonsea and its surrounding woodlands once more provided fish, game, timber, and other necessities of life so badly missed in the cavern.
Phlan's council called for a two-day festival to celebrate the city's safe return. Singing and dancing carried late into the night, and by day the streets were filled with tiny stands selling every imaginable food and beverage. The scents of roasted boar, fresh raspberry pies, steamed fish, hot bread, wine, and ale mingled among the sounds of happy voices and raucous singing.
But as the city again settled into a normal routine, the stress and exhaustion of months in captivity began to take its toll. Children and adults alike suffered horrible nightmares of the endless assaults on the city and the horrible creatures that had threatened the lives of innocents. Neighbors bickered among each other, accusing close friends of luring them into the bard's influence. The council was blamed for too much action, too little action, the wrong actions. As the days wore on, the once-unified Phlan edged closer and closer to the brink of civil war.
Phlan was not alone. The other cities Bane had stolen suffered similar hardships. Families split up, friendships were broken. Governments cracked and wobbled. The most important cities on the Moonsea stood on the brink of collapse and devastation.
Bane reveled in the chaos and destruction. The breakdown of the cities would make their citizens easy targets.
Sensing Bane's evil intentions, Tyr scrutinized the cities across the continent. Certainly, some of the inhabitants were evil, but none deserved to fall prey to Bane so easily. The evil god would have to work much harder to conquer the cities. Tyr would not allow his rival to scoop up the innocents without a fair struggle.
Tyr gathered his powers and, one by one, set about curing the cities. Every evening for eight nights, the god sent an azure mist through the streets of the sleeping towns. By a miracle that could come only from a god of justice, Tyr cleansed the memories and souls of thousands of distraught inhabitants. As dawn broke, old wounds were healed and feuds forgotten. Tyr's mercy wiped away the memories of the ordeals. The population of Faerun was at peace once again. It was almost as if nothing had happened.
But the god also knew the incident could not be completely forgotten. A few brave souls would need to remember the horrors Bane had inflicted. A few heroes would be needed to watch for the evil god's influence and be prepared to challenge him.
And so it was that a ranger, a cleric, two wizards, and a magical giant cat retained their memories of the long adventure and victory. In other cities across Faerun, tiny handfuls of similar heroes and clerics of Tyr remembered their struggles and captivity.
Tyr smiled down on his chosen few. Bane would never give up, and no one on Toril could predict his next move. But a few dozen scattered heroes would be ever-vigilant.
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Document creation date: 29.01.2012
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Pools of Darkness hop-2 Page 28
