by Novak, Kate
Joel felt as if a heavy weight had settled on his heart. “What was the second question?” he asked.
“If I leave the decision up to Joel, will he act on my behalf?”
“And the answer was He does not know,” Joel replied.
Jedidiah nodded. “The mind flayer left before I could ask it if it meant you or Ilsensine.”
Joel shook his head. “I don’t know what I’ll do, Jedidiah. I don’t want Bane to be resurrected. But it’s not fair that you should be lessened just so he remains dead.”
Jedidiah held out the Hand of Bane once again. He looked more than tired now. He looked ancient and haggard. He said, “Joel, I only became a god because several good friends demanded I fight Moander. One even gave his life to show me how an unselfish man dies. But I lived, and I was given the gift of godhood. I’m still not comfortable with it, just as you’re not comfortable being a priest. I often wonder if the two aren’t related somehow. If I’m going to remain a god, I need friends to show me the way.”
Joel took the hand from his god. It was still warm from Jedidiah’s touch. “I need to think about this …” he said.
Jedidiah nodded. “Perhaps it will be easier to decide back at the Sensate safe house. Holly and Walinda will both have different answers for you.”
“And Jas,” Joel said suddenly. “She was here,” he told Jedidiah. “The Xvimists captured her and transformed her like they did Bear. But when she learned Holly wasn’t dead, she seemed to act a little more human. I think she’s headed to see Holly.”
“Let’s go, then,” Jedidiah said. “Before this city decides to spit me out.”
They climbed wearily up both flights of stairs. Dits was among the stacks of books and scrolls speaking with a customer.
“I’ll be back soon,” Joel called, waving the Hand of Bane at the bariaur. Joel stuffed the hand inside his belt and left the shop with Jedidiah at his side. They hurried through the streets of Sigil. Despite Jedidiah’s age, it was Joel whose strength began to flag as they reached the Sensate safe house. The wounds he’d received from the skeleton’s sword and Jas’s talons throbbed painfully, and his head was pounding from the stone idol’s blow.
Jedidiah ushered his wounded priest inside and sat him down in the parlor. “I’ll go see if Bors can do that golden thread trick on you,” he said.
Joel looked up at the picture over the mantelpiece and gasped. The picture had been slashed to ribbons. Lying on the mantel before it was a note written on a scrap of the painting’s canvas.
Joel leapt up and grabbed at the document. He read it quickly and then ran from the parlor, shouting for
Jedidiah. He found the older man in the kitchen, leaning over Bors. The alien paladin had been knocked unconscious, apparently with a heavy frying pan.
Joel waved the note in the air. “It’s from Walinda,” he said.
Jedidiah rubbed at his temples. “Read it,” he ordered.
“I have the paladin in my possession. I will be in the astral plane with my lord Bane. Bring the Hand of Bane if you wish to negotiate. Walinda of Bane … She has Holly!” Joel exclaimed.
“And you have the Hand of Bane,” Jedidiah replied. “It’s the same game, but the stakes have just been changed.”
Seventeen
Lord Bane’s Body
Bors soon regained consciousness. Aside from a ringing headache, he was no worse for wear. He sent a street urchin to fetch sedan chairs to take Joel and Jedidiah to the Shattered Temple, where they would find a portal to the astral plane. “I can accompany you as far as the temple, but then we must part,” the alien paladin said. “I have an obligation at the Civic Festhall that I can delay no longer.” Jedidiah nodded, and Joel realized the old priest was relieved that Bors hadn’t insisted on joining their party. Holly’s presence had already complicated their business. Who knew what trouble a second paladin could start?
While they waited for their transport, Bors saw to their wounds. With a golden hammer, he applied a blow to Jedidiah’s arm, relieving the numbness the older man felt, and with the golden needle, he pricked the bump in Joel’s head. The swelling quickly subsided. Then he washed and bandaged Joel’s wounds from Jas and the skeleton.
Two chairs arrived, each carried by two bariaurs. Bors instructed them to head for a tavern called the Soused Duck. The tavern, Bors explained, was as near to the Shattered Temple as any bearers would go. He wished them luck and sent them on their way.
As he rode, all Joel could think of was Walinda’s treachery and how stupid he’d been to trust her. She’d pulled the same trick her master had tried. Jedidiah had even warned Joel about her in the Palace of Judgment. Of course, Jedidiah had also been tricked, believing Bors could protect Holly from the priestess.
Although it was now day, the fog grew darker as they approached their destination, and the air grew much more foul. Their bariaur bearers stopped at the Soused Duck tavern. The two priests alighted and paid for their ride. The bariaurs hurried away, and Joel could see why.
Beyond the tavern was a blighted scar where there had once been a thriving area of solid buildings. Several city blocks had been destroyed a long time ago but had never been rebuilt. Collapsed and burned-out buildings dotted the landscape. Some of the buildings had been scavenged, but no one chose to live in this place.
The Shattered Temple sat in the center of the devastation. When they had spoken yesterday, Holly had told Joel that the temple had once belonged to a god named Aoskar, who had apparently made an attempt to control the city. The mistress of Sigil had destroyed Aoskar, his church, and his followers. The devastation remained untouched out of superstition and also served as a warning to all: Sigil was off limits to godly powers.
As Joel and Jedidiah approached the heart of the destroyed area, Joel grew aware of the quiet all around them. They had left the hubbub of the city behind. This area was a memorial to the dead.
The Shattered Temple sat on a low rise, surrounded by a small retinue of temple guards. Its roof and upper walls were gone. Its foundation had settled crookedly into the earth. At each corner was a half-razed tower. Graceful arched buttresses surrounding the temple held up only thin air. Any stone walls that remained standing were covered with thick, dark-leafed vines. Four paths led away from the temple in the front, the back, and to either side, down broad staircases. Each path ended in a broken and shattered terrace.
As they approached the nearest terrace, they were called to a halt by the temple guards. The guards were a motley lot. They were armed and armored in a haphazard fashion and wore no recognizable uniforms. They each wore a badge of the Athar, also known as the Lostthose who believed all gods were false.
The guards, while friendly, insisted that Joel and Jedidiah must wait for a guide to tour the ruins. Jedidiah paced the terrace while Joel tried to imagine what this place had looked like before its destruction. In a few minutes a tall, thin man, somewhat older than Joel, approached the terrace from the direction of the temple and spoke with the guards. Then he turned toward Joel and Jedidiah.
“Welcome to the Shattered Temple, headquarters of the Athar,” the man greeted them in a gruff voice. “I’m Adenu, and I’ll be your guide.” Adenu turned and led the pair up the stairs toward the temple. The steps were uneven and scorched, and where there were breaks in the stone, wild grass had taken root. Their guide continued his speech, his eyes half closed, as if he were reading it from the back of his eyelids. “On this tour, Ill be showing you all the darks uncovered by our leaders, darks which prove the wisdom of the Athar’s teachingsthe gods are charlatans, beings of false power and false promises.”
Jedidiah began to chuckle.
Adenu shot the older man a chill look.
“I’m sorry,” Jedidiah apologized. “I’m not laughing at your philosophy. It’s just that the irony is killing me.”
“Irony?” Adenu asked.
“It’s not important,” Jedidiah replied. “Sir, any other time I’m sure this tour would fascinate m
e, but right now we are trying to track down a girl and her abductor. The girl is tall, dark-skinned. Her abductor is a small, slender woman dressed in black. We have reason to believe that the woman would have used your portal to the astral plane.”
“Oh, her! Bossy bit of fluff, the one in black was. Blew in here like she owned the place, demanding access as if she were the queen of the world. I thought that dolly-mop with her had too much of the bub.”
“Did they go through the portal?” Joel asked.
“Her Majesty handed me a huge sack o’jink. Said she had to see the dead gods immediatelyhad to show them to the girl. Didn’t see the harm in it. I guided them through to the astral side. Once we’re across, the woman says she doesn’t need a guide. She goes sailing off into the void with the girl in tow. I’m stepping back through the portal, and I’m nearly knocked over by some harpy who goes flying through.”
“Jas!” Joel muttered to Jedidiah, who nodded in reply.
As they passed between two long, low buildings to the rear of the temple, Adenu said, “All of ‘em lucky it’s a good day for the portal.”
“A good day?” Joel asked.
“Portal’s getting unreliable,” Adenu explained. “Like everything the so-called gods created. Some days it’s no bigger than an egg. Other days it doesn’t open at all.”
Adenu led them through the front entryway to the ruined temple. The doors had burned away. Only their hinges remained. “Used to have caravans of people coming here to tour the temple,” their guide explained, “all eager for that big finaleseeing Aoskar’s body floating in the gray. Now that they know they may not see into the astral, they don’t flock here like they used to. Portal closes down entirely, we’ll be changing the tour itinerary. Can’t say as I’ll be disappointed. Thought from the beginning we should talk more about the tree.”
“The tree?” Joel asked.
“I’ve gone and given you a dark,” Adenu said. “Come back in a few weeks. The tree will be on the tour by then. Just working out some security problems. But the tree is proof there is a power greater than the gods.”
Adenu led them through a door to the first tower on the right. Within, a knee-high wall encircled an empty pool about five feet across. Once the portal must have filled the pool, but now a puddle of gray in the middle was all that was left of the gateway to the astral plane. “Pop through there,” Adenu said, “and you’ll see ‘em … all the dead gods. No better than they should be. That’s where they’ll all end up once we’ve revealed the truth about ‘em to the multiverse.”
“Some even sooner then that,” Jedidiah murmured. He turned to the Athar guide. “We’ll find our way from here, thank you,” the former god said. “It’s been very interesting talking to you, Adenu. Farewell.”
“Suit yourselves.” He pulled back and watched them from the doorway.
Jedidiah stepped stiffly over the low wall. His face twitched, as if he were in pain.
“Are you all right?” Joel whispered. “I sense I’m not wanted here,” the older bard said. Joel smiled.
“Not wanted in the city, I mean,” Jedidiah explained. “Something or someone has sensed my presence and is not pleased. There’s an oppressive atmosphere all around me. We’re not leaving a moment too soon.”
Joel stepped over the wall and joined Jedidiah beside the gray puddle on the floor.
“Hold on to my cloak and step through with me,” Jedidiah said. “Stay relaxed, and don’t panic when we reach the other side. Ready … set… go!”
The two men hopped through the portal together. They fell into an empty sky. There was no ground beneath their feet, yet they fell no farther. There was neither up nor down, nor any horizon, nothing. In the distance, the sky looked silver, but close up there was no color to the air. Joel looked upward. The portal through which they’d entered looked like a leather-brown disk floating in the sky. It flared with a white light, then shrank to the size of a melon.
Beside him, Jedidiah’s form looked pale, nearly translucent. Joel looked down at himself to discover that he, too, seemed less distinct. Yet when he patted his chest and legs, he felt as solid as ever, and the piece of Jedidiah’s cloak to which he clung still seemed made of good, stiff wool. He released his hold on the cloak.
“Welcome to the astral plane,” Jedidiah said. “The hallway to the multiverse. Don’t be fooled by the emptiness. There’s plenty here once you learn how to look for it. If you see any colored disks or snakelike tubes, avoid them. The disks are portals to other worlds, and the tubes are conduits between other worlds. With any luck, we won’t run into any githyanki. That’s a race of humans who worship a lich queen. They’re none too friendly to outsiders. We need to find a temporary haven to start. See that gray spot?” Jedidiah pointed into the nothingness.
Joel shook his head.
“No? Well, I’m going to think about moving toward it, and when I do, I’ll start to move in that direction. Just like floating down a river. You think about moving toward me and you’ll move along with me. Your mind does all the work. Watch.”
Jedidiah looked out over the void and started to drift in the direction he had pointed toward.
Joel watched him recede with a hint of nervousness. The silence that surrounded him was far more intense and thus much more eerie than the silence in the Shattered Temple. He longed to hear another voice. It took the young bard a few moments to focus on imagining himself moving toward the older man.
Suddenly Jedidiah appeared to move backwards, toward Joel, but soon Joel realized it was because he was moving toward Jedidiah. Without any landmarks, without even the hint of a breeze, movement was very deceptive.
After a few minutes following Jedidiah, Joel could see the gray spot Jedidiah had indicated. A few minutes later the gray spot became a gray statue of a potbellied, ram-horned satyr with a sullen expression on its face. As the men moved closer, the gray statue appeared to be a huge rock carving, larger than a ship.
Jedidiah settled on the satyr’s shoulder, and Joel landed beside him. The young bard felt only a slight sensation of weight holding him to the statue’s body.
“Is this … ?” Joel let his voice trail off.
“A dead god? Yes,” Jedidiah replied. “I have no idea who it is. There are a great many of them out here. Some are newly arrived, while others have floated here for millennia,”
“Why are we stopping here?” Joel asked. While he was glad to feel something solid beneath his feet, the nature of the object he stood on made him feel uneasy.
“Now that we’re no longer in Sigil, I’d like to have my godhood back. Would you be so kind as to restore it?”
Joel pulled out the finder’s stone and held it out to Jedidiah.
The older man smiled and shook his head. “I can’t just take it back by myself. It requires a ritual that only a priest can perform.”
“What sort of ritual?” Joel asked.
“Well, it’s different for every god. In my case, it requires a song … one about the cycle of life.”
“The tulip song,” Joel said, realizing finally why Jedidiah had drilled him so assiduously in that particular song.
“Exactly,” Jedidiah said. He lowered himself until he was seated cross-legged. Joel sat across from Jedidiah and held out the finder’s stone. Then he sang, understanding much more about the song than he had before. As he sang, the process that had placed Finder’s remaining godly power and abilities into this half of the finder’s stone reversed itself. Mists of all colors of the spectrum streamed from the stone. The mists circled about Jedidiah’s form, then were drawn into him, like water into parched earth. When at last Joel had finished, Jedidiah heaved a deep sigh and relaxed.
The weariness and age had disappeared from Jedidiah’s face, and he once more appeared to be a man in his prime. More important was the feeling Joel had that he stood in his god’s presence. The Rebel Bard hadn’t recognized its existence until Jedidiah had given up his power, but now that the power was restored, Joel c
ould feel it once again.
“Well,” Jedidiah said, “what do you know? It worked. I can feel your presence again.”
Joel’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean, it worked?” he squeaked. “Why wouldn’t it work?”
“Well, essentially, we just recreated a god, and there’s other powers involved in recreating a godly presence powers that might try to stop the process,” Jedidiah explained.
“You knew that when you gave up your powers?” Joel asked, flabbergasted. Jedidiah nodded.
Joel sighed. Then he laughed. “I have a new portfolio for you, Jedidiah. God of Reckless Fools,” he said.
Jedidiah laughed. “I like it. Something adventurers can relate to.” He stood up, without a hint of pain or tiredness. “Time to deal with the banelich.” “How do we find him out here?” Joel asked. “We just think of him, and our minds will move our bodies in his direction. Or you could think of moving toward Holly,” the god instructed his priest.
Joel took Jedidiah’s latter suggestion and found himself moving away from the dead satyr-god back into the void of nothingness. Jedidiah moved alongside him, though sometimes he soared ahead. Joel wondered if Jedidiah was thinking of the banelich or the paladin or concentrating instead on the other half of the finder’s stone. Whichever was the case, they continued to move in the same direction.
Joel couldn’t say how long their journey lasted. He didn’t get hungry or thirsty or tired, yet he soon realized that time and distance and even his own existence were distorted in this plane. They passed writhing conduits and glowing portals and other dead gods. Once a flying lion circled them, then flew on.
All the while they traveled, the Rebel Bard was uncomfortable in his mind. Jedidiah had entrusted him with the Hand of Bane. The decision of what to do with it was up to him. Before Walinda’s treachery, Joel’s only concern had been whether or not he would deprive Finder of the power the god wanted, perhaps even needed. Now Holly’s life was at stake as well. The priestess had taken Holly for the same reason the banelich had tried to abduct Joel. The banelich didn’t want to part with the finder’s stone. Walinda would demand the Hand of Bane in exchange for Holly’s life, giving her master all he desired.
