Marrec brushed away a tear as he continued to gaze upward.
“Goodbye, Ash.”
EPILOGUE
Marrec and Ususi walked behind Elowen and Gunggari. Gunggari played upon his dizheri, Elowen laughing and sometimes clapping accompaniment. So they continued, slowly, taking the few days required, until they drew near the borders of Rawlinswood, to the south and west of where Dun-Tharos still sheltered in the heart of the forest. The journey back through the tangled forest was mostly uneventful, though they steered well clear of wells and other cavities that threatened a passage back into the Nar conjuries still below. All contemplated their touch with divinity. Indeed, all were touched. As the days of their journey toward Yeshelmaar passed, each noted slight changes in the other.
Gunggari was more talkative, as if the assurance of the Aspect’s smile had somehow given him a measure of poise, where before simple reserve had always sufficed. On the other hand, Elowen took more time for introspection before speaking her mind, though as ever, the elf was still quick to find a bit of joy and wonder in the sight of a growing thing or forest creature. Ususi also seemed somewhat kinder in her dealings with the others, as if some bitterness was finally dulled. The mage was more thoughtful, and her biting remarks had yet to reappear.
For his part, Marrec was simply happier. He was happier not only because his contact with Lurue was as strong and steady as it had ever been, but also because he felt more a whole man for the first time that he could recall. He could accept his heritage, despite its monstrous origin. All that was required was one last remuneration.
It was Thanial, of course, his old mentor—Thanial, who had accidentally fallen afoul of Marrec’s gaze, the kind forest ranger, whose stone-entombed body was shattered and its pieces strewn far and wide.
“I’ve never heard you whistle before, Marrec, and I’ve known you long,” commented Gunggari.
“The tune is rather a happy one, too,” noted Ususi, her lips trying on a smile, which was becoming a less rare sight.
“Well, I don’t know the name of the tune. I’m just whistling because the mood struck me, that’s all. Plus, before she left, Ash gave me knowledge I didn’t know that I wanted, but now that I have it, I see that it is nothing less than essential.”
Elowen raised an eyebrow, inquisitive.
“It’s Thanial. I thought him destroyed forevermore, his fragments scattered beyond recovery, but Ash has given me special insight. I know where every last chunk, fragment, stone, and pebble of Thanial lies, across the entire span of Faerûn. Some are scattered strangely far, but I know even of them.”
Ususi began to nod, but Elowen said, “So?”
“I have been given the gift of salvation, and Thanial’s, too. Once I have collected all the pieces, I can meld them into a whole, and once whole, my old mentor can be released from his mineral bondage.”
Gunggari clapped Marrec on the back.
It was true. The knowledge of each stony fragment sparkled in his mind, divinely provided, and for all Marrec knew, given directly by Lurue herself, but passed down through her emissary, the Aspect.
It was midsummer, but a fair day without scorching heat. Looking backward at the edge of the Rawlinswood, as it lay lower than the higher point to which they had ascended, they saw the white sun stretching out over the dark cloak of the woods, the light penetrating shadows and turning shadow and darkness to the greenery of life. The sky was blue, but darkening swiftly as evening approached, with only a faint frosting of clouds high above, like white paint streaked across a cerulean canvas.
Yeshelmaar lay not too far distant, less than a day’s walk away, should they choose to push themselves, but comfortable in each other’s company, they chose instead to set camp early.
As the stars came out above, Gunggari began to play again on his dizheri. The song was one Marrec had heard the Oslander play before, but rarely. A salute to the stars, which the Oslander’s people believed to be the spirits of their ancestors looking down upon them, guarding them, or at least available for advice, should they be asked.
Elowen and Ususi were talking quietly together. When Gunggari began his music, they finished speaking and made their way up to where the cleric reclined on a great rock.
Elowen said, “Ususi and I find ourselves at loose ends.”
“Loose ends?”
Ususi responded, “I have the Keystone, which is what I’ve long sought, but gaining it, I have discovered that there are other things, too, beyond accumulation of knowledge, that are worth having.”
“What’s that?” wondered Marrec, frowning.
Elowen answered for Ususi, “Comradeship. Listen-now that the Rotting Man has been flushed from Dun Tharos, my priorities have shifted, too. For so long I have been focused on the Talontyr, but his threat is lessened. Like Ususi … I find that I prefer traveling with a group of friends instead of alone.”
Comprehension dawned across the cleric’s face. He shook his head, but a great contentment filled him up, causing him to laugh. “Then, two shall become four. We’re off in the morning. First, we shall visit Hemish, to tell him of his little girl that grew up and give him the token Ash wanted him to have. After that, we will search out the fragments of my past misstep. Thanial will enjoy meeting all of you.”
Marrec stood. The three, discussing their plans for the morrow, strode over to where the Oslander continued to play. Gunggari’s notes danced into the night sky. The stars twinkled their approval.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bruce R Cordell earned a degree in Environmental, Population, and Organismic Biology from the University of Colorado. While working as a Research Associate, he learned to synthesize DNA, but he could not resist the lure of game design.
After a few years as a freelancer and design contributor of a multiplayer online game, he abandoned science for a design position with TSR, now Wizards of the Coast, Inc. His design credits (over thirty and counting) include the Psionics handbook, The Sunless Citadel, and the Epic Level handbook. Lady of Poison is his second novel.
LADY OF POISON
©2004 Wizards of the Coast LLC
All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2004101043
eISBN: 978-0-7869-5683-8
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