Book 5.4

13 Esterealan, Strand’s Shadows


Donar motioned for the other priests to disperse, then he ushered me into his office and shut the door behind us. He sat down at his desk and ran a hand through his thick hair. The shadows under his eyes had grown deeper of late. I don’t think he’s been getting much rest. I’m really quite worried about him.
“What happened?” Donar asked. “Canliss told me that you were in dire peril.” He looked at my clean, unruffled and uninjured person and frowned doubtfully.
“Oh, Canliss wasn’t exaggerating,” I assured him hastily. I fear Donar has formed a rather poor opinion of my six-fingered friend, and I felt I should defend him.
“We really were in great danger, but we managed to extricate ourselves from the situation.” I stopped at the sound of people running through the hallways, talking in raised voices. We never speak that loudly outside our own quarters; why, people could probably hear them in the sanctuary. Someone started yelling – that was Dante’s voice. Dear, sweet-tempered Dante, yelling? Something was very wrong. I looked uneasily at Donar.
The door opened (without a knock), and Rico ran in. He’s the youngest of our novices and we often grant him extra leeway for youthful exuberance, but it wasn’t like him to rush into Donar’s office without knocking. He clutched a piece of paper and looked around with wide eyes.
“Rachel?” He asked. Then, not seeing her, he turned and ran out.
Puzzled, I closed the door behind him. “That was odd,” I said to Donar. “Even for Rico.”
Donar sighed. “It’s going to be one of those nights.”
“As I was saying, Canliss wasn’t exaggerating much when he told you that I was in a bit of trouble. We were investigating for that horrid man, Ellis Lorinar – the deputy administrator of mysterious meteorology – I believe I left you a message about him.”
Donar nodded. “It’s not bad for us to garner support among the politicians.”
“Well, I don’t know how important he is.”
“We don’t know how important he is today,” Donar said with a smile.
“You have a point, as always,” I said, smiling back at him. No matter how tired he was, Donar never lost his keen grasp of diplomacy and city politics. If only he were in charge of all of Istur’s churches, we should have no trouble unifying everyone. Really, what has Dougal done since he got here – arrested a few corrupt constables and sent all of his charismatic staff members to Geston. The man is practically useless; not that I’d ever say so to anyone – it would be rude.
“At any rate, last night we were returning from that awful dinner party with Lord Tore Bertini when we encountered some salamader-like creatures torching Backwater Street.”
Donar’s eyes widened. “Did you summon them?”
“No!” I said, offended. “No, I didn’t. We arrived in the midst of an altercation between the city guards and these salamanders. Unfortunately, we were too late to save most of the guards, but we were able to rescue Lorinar. So of course, Ester was there – you know Ester.”
Donar smiled. Everyone loves Ester.
“And there was a lovely warrior named Val, a mage named Bianca – perhaps you know her? She runs that cute, little shop with the cloaks in the window, and there are some silver bracelets that are quite nice –“
“Nikita, focus,” Donar said with a frown.
“Oh, sorry. Well, Canliss was with us. And this smelly barbarian named Gore. Before we knew it, we found ourselves deputized. That’s why I had to leave so early this morning. We had a meeting with Lorinar.”
I explained what the deputy minister had told us, which wasn’t much. “He insisted on someone being in charge to file reports, so we nominated Ester.”
Donar smoothed his mustache, a gesture he often makes to hide a smile.
“Damn it, Seregil, we don’t have time for that!” I heard Dante yelling from somewhere outside. Seregil’s angry response was garbled by the sound of running feet. They’re my two dearest friends in the temple, and they love each other like brothers; I’ve never heard them yell at each other before. What was going on out there?
“Should we go check on that?” I asked Donar.
“I’m sure Rachel’s taking care of it,” he said. I was puzzled by his behavior. Not because Rachel was incapable of handling the situation, but because Donar is just as curious as the rest of us. He had to be wondering what was happening, but he wasn’t willing to spare a moment to ask. Lately I’ve noticed Donar’s often been like this during our little talks – strangely intense, and more than a little grim. Is it just me, or is he like this with the others? I’m going to have to find out, and soon.
“But, that sounded like Dante,” I said. I didn’t want to upset Donar, but it was hard to ignore the chaos outside.
“There is much afoot tonight.”
I waited for him to elaborate. If something was happening that could throw Strand’s into such disorder, shouldn’t we be helping? Surely my news could wait.
Donar frowned. “Nikita, everything in Istur doesn’t revolve around you.”
I have to admit, I was a little hurt by that remark. It sounded like something he’d say to Freddy; Donar has never spoken to me like that before. Clearly, he’s under a great deal of stress.
“I know that,” I said. “But if they need our help…” I stopped, because Donar was giving me his stern look – the one that Seregil imitates so well.
“So, these salamanders, where did they come from?”
“We don’t know. This is Istur – of course, no one saw anything. The guards were all sadly deceased, and Deputy Minister Lorinar – well, he’s an idiot. If there was anything to be seen, you can be sure he failed to notice it.
“But we did some investigating on our own, and Canliss found a warehouse on Leman Street.” More people went running through the halls. Doing my best to ignore it, I described to Donar everything we’d found beneath the warehouse. Donar opened a journal and took notes.
“The lava was quite a problem. We’d already used almost all of our spells when the flaming, crab-like creatures attacked us. I think poor Canliss would have been done for if I hadn’t summoned that dire bat –“
I stopped, remembering a little too late that I’d promised not to summon any more Fiendish creatures. I’m really going to have to try to avoid speaking to Donar when I’m so very tired.
Donar’s eyes narrowed. His eyes are usually a lovely gray color, but I swear they get darker when he’s angry. Salvador once said you knew you were in trouble when Donar’s eyes got like storm clouds.
“Well, the poor hippogriff just expired and fell right into the lava,” I defended myself hastily. “It was really quite pitiful. The dire bat was protected from the heat.”
Donar got up and turned around, staring with sudden and inexplicable interest at the items on his bookshelves. He picked up the round, blue crystal that mage from Tonn sent him and rolled it absently in his hand. I’d been told by Freddy and Salvador that this behavior was a very bad sign, but I never thought I’d see it first-hand. Donar never used to get upset with me quite this much; or so often.
He sighed heavily. “Nikita,” he said without turning around. “You should probably get some sleep. Pray upon the events that happened, get some sleep, then regroup with your friends in the morning and assess the situation.”
“I was thinking of asking Jven for help,” I said.
Donar sat down and finally looked at me. He did not look happy. “That would be the wisest idea you’ve had tonight.”
He didn’t say it was the only wise idea I’d had that night, but it was implied by his tone. I bid him good night and retreated, shutting the door behind me. I’d only gotten a few steps when Dante and Rachel rushed by. I caught Dante’s eye, but he shook his head, indicating now was not the time to talk. They went into Donar’s office and closed the door.
No self-respecting priest of Torodin could have walked away from that. I leaned closer to the door, hoping to find out what had everyone so upset. The door opened, and Dante leaned out of the room. He looked sympathetic, but he didn’t smile, and the lines of exhaustion on his handsome face were nearly as bad as Donar’s.
“Now’s not a good time, Kit,” he said gently.
I was disappointed, but seeing tenderhearted Dante looking so grim had a sobering effect. I kissed his cheek and went in search of someone who could tell me what was going on. Sadly, everyone was gone except Carmen, who’d been stuck with door duty and couldn’t talk to me. Where was everyone? I headed up to my room with a heavy heart.

14 Esterealan, Strand’s Shadows

I prayed, as Donar had asked me. And I tried to sleep, really I did. But my thoughts were troubled. I must admit, Donar’s behavior saddened me. This wasn’t the first time he’d been angry with me, but I’ve never seen him so… frustrated. Ever since I got back from Ravenloft, Donar’s been acting so strangely. I must find out what’s wrong with him. I’d do absolutely anything to help him.
And curiosity gnawed at me. The hours crawled by, and the sounds of chaos outside only increased. What was going on out there? I couldn’t possibly sleep through all this. I got out of bed, dressed, and did my hair. I was in the midst of doing my make-up when Rico rushed in to tell me that Canliss was here to see me. The poor boy was out of breath; he’d been taking and delivering a lot of messages.
“If Donar and Rachel are looking for me, please tell them I went with Canliss.” This was unlikely to reassure them; I was rather hoping they wouldn’t notice I was gone. Rico hastily wrote down my message; there was too much chaos for him to commit everything to memory.
“What’s going on?” I asked Canliss. “I was trying to sleep, but it’s much too noisy.”
“There’s fires everywhere,” said Canliss. “I came here thinking I’d ask for your advice on where I could best help out.
Canliss was asking for my advice? He must want something, if he was willing to suck up like that. Whatever it was could wait. The city was on fire! I had to make sure Chasiya’s shop was safe. I don’t know where I’d go for dresses if The Well-Turned Hell burned down.
“I don’t have any fire-fighting powers,” I said. If I’d had any spells left I might have summoned a water elemental, but I was down to one of my less powerful spells. “But I know who does. And so do you -- Jven.”
“Should we go find her?”
“Yes.”
“If you mouse, I can carry you.”
I obliged. Canliss polymorphed. I waited, expecting him to become some noble beast, like a griffin or an eagle. Instead, he turned into a winged man.
“For heaven’s sake, Canliss. Something a little less conspicuous.”
“This way I can still cast spells,” he protested.
I sighed. “Couldn’t you have learned to cast spells in animal form?” I said as I climbed onto this shoulder. “You look ridiculous.”
Canliss, sadly, did not seem to care. He has no sense of dignity. We took off into the increasingly powerful winds; as if things weren’t bad enough, a storm was brewing.
All was chaos in the streets of Istur. Bells rang, people ran through the streets yelling and screaming, scrambling in every which direction with no apparent sense of purpose. I hadn’t seen people so panicked since Rhavin tried to reassure the villagers in Port d’Elhour.
Several lights in various directions revealed fires burning all over the city. We saw a detachment of the city watch thundering down the street, nearly trampling a group of people and causing further panic in their haste to reach the nearest fire. Clearly we couldn’t count on them to restore order.
Since we were able to soar above the teeming masses in the streets, we reached Ebb Tide quickly. We flew over the mob outside the front door and went in the back entrance. I spotted Halberto passing out drinks to refugees, and I directed Canliss in that direction.
“Halberto, it’s me, Nikita.”
Halberto looked surprised to see me. He wasn’t used to hearing me speak in mouse form.
“Uh, hi Nikita,” he said uncertainly.
“Where’s Jven?” I asked.
He looked around helplessly. “Um, I dunno. She might be helping somebody around here somewhere. I saw her when the ship’s bells went off.”
Jveltoans. They’re sweet, but when it comes to organizing things, they’re about as effective as a candle in a windstorm.
“Well, if she comes back, tell her that Canliss and Nikita were here. We’re going to Sable Street to help with the fires.” This just happened to be the street where The Well-Turned Heel is located, but I didn’t inform Canliss of this. Really, he wouldn’t have been interested.
“Come now, Canliss, let’s go. There’s no time to waste.”
We flew as quickly as we could to Sable Street. The wind was growing stronger, and it was a cold flight. I was quite relieved when we got there to see that Chasiya’s shop was safe, but there were numerous fires that were much too close for my liking. Several bucket brigades were hard at work, but they didn’t seem to be very well organized. I directed Canliss to the fire closest to Chasiya’s shop.
The six-fingered mage proved surprisingly resourceful. He cast ‘Tenser’s Floating Disc.’ Filling it with water, he began dumping it on the flames. Although I was lacking in spells, I was determined to do my part. The rugged-looking men on the bucket brigade were bravely toiling away, sweating profusely despite the frigid weather. I offered them encouragement and wiped the sweat from their brows with my silk handkerchief; it was the least I could do.
After an hour or so of this, I heard someone calling my name. Val approached, looking uneasily at the fire. She didn’t seem wounded.
“Who appointed that damn door guard at Strand’s Shadows? What a waste. He wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“Well, she’s not permitted to,” I said. Poor Carmen; she really hates door duty. Left to her own devices, she’s rather garrulous. “You need to go to the back door if you want to speak to someone. Didn’t you know that?”
I mopped the brow of the nearest man on the bucket brigade. He was rather handsome, but he had an annoying tendency to look down my dress whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Val sighed. “I guess I’ll pitch in with a bucket.”
“That man in the back there,” I whispered to her as she filled a bucket. “The handsome, dark-haired one. His name is Tredian, and he’s single.”
“Oh, right,” said Val. She got in line behind him, winking at me. Well, it was going to be a long, tiring night – we might as well flirt.
“Nikita,” Canliss called. “Do you see anything odd?” This was Canliss’ way of assessing a situation – ask the Torodinite. Mind you, if there’d been a single gold coin in a ten-block radius, Canliss would have seen it even through the blizzard.
I looked around, not at the people trying to put out the fire, but at the edges of the action, searching for someone or something that was out of place. And I did see something. There, on the roof at the edge of the fire, was a tiny, foot-tall fire elemental. The creature danced around gleefully, spreading the fire even further. I tried to point it out to Canliss, but he couldn’t see it. Pausing only to tell Val what I’d seen, I shifted back to mouse form so I could guide Canliss to the spot. He blasted the elemental with magic missiles, destroying it.
“Aaaaahhh!” Poor Val slipped and fell in her attempt to reach the roof.
“It’s all right, Val,” Canliss called. “I killed it.”
She dusted soot from her pants and scowled at him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Canliss can be so insensitive.
“Let’s look for more of those,” I told Canliss.
“Let’s go,” he agreed. “Val, follow me!”
I looked over my shoulder. Val just shook her head at the winged Canliss, then ran after us on foot. None of us got far. Canliss was grounded by the increasingly high winds, and Val could only run so far. We stopped at the next fire, which happened to be near the docks. Here everything was much calmer than elsewhere; someone had assembled the best-disciplined bucket brigade in the entire city. From my perch on Canliss’ shoulder, I looked around at the various buildings and ships in flames. (Sadly, The Whale’s Eye Inn was undamaged; I would have happily added oil to that fire, especially if the owner were trapped inside. Well, there will be time enough to deal with him later.)
Val, Canliss and I started looking for the elemental. The first thing we spied as a familiar-looking redheaded Jveltoan. “Look, there’s Jven!” I waved my paws excitedly, but Jven didn’t hear me over the blizzard. I sent Val over to introduce herself while Canliss and I began searching the perimeter of the fire. Eventually I found the miniature elemental hopping around on top of one of the warehouses.
“There it is,” I said in Canliss’ ear. “Go get it.”
Canliss shivered; my whiskers had tickled the inside of his ear. “Where is it? I don’t see it?”
“Oh, come on, Canliss. It’s right up there, where those shingles are starting to burn.”
Canliss started climbing up the building. What was he doing? Didn’t he have spells left? “Canliss, don’t drop me,” I warned him as I dug my claws into his cloak.
He didn’t drop me. But he fell halfway up. I got a very nasty bruise on my right arm.
“Canliss, how can you be so clumsy?” I scolded. I used my last spell to heal my wound, then I shifted back to human form. I stood up and tried in vain to brush the soot from my dress. Canliss owes me a clean cantrip.
Jven came walking calmly over to us, with Val trailing behind her. “Jven, how nice to see you!” I hugged her. I was so happy to see Jven. She was truly in her element; she was using her powers to create springs of water, and it was she who’d organized this calm and disciplined bucket brigade.
“Um, how is Canliss?” Jven asked.
I glanced over my shoulder, to where Canliss was groaning and hauling himself to his feet. He started picking the lock on the door.
“Oh, he’s his usual self,” I said.
Jven looked surprised. “What is his state of repair, sweetie?”
Oh, that’s right. Canliss had fallen, too. “I don’t know. I’m sure he’s fine.” I looked at the now open door to the warehouse. “Oh look, he’s gone inside the burning building. There’s a little bitty fire elemental on top of the roof.”
“Oh, for goodness sake. I suppose if Canliss is heading up there, I might as well go, too.”
“I’ll go with you,” I offered. “But you should know I’m out of spells. It’s been a busy day.”
“Um, you should probably stay here. I wouldn’t want you to singe your outfit; it’s adorable.”
“Oh, all right. Come, Val, let’s help the bucket brigade. Those men look sweaty.”
Val and I helped fight the fire for several long, exhausting hours. The fire blazed, timbers crashed. We looked anxiously at the door, hoping to see our friends return.
“I’m sure they’re all right,” Val assured me. We both winced as a patch of roof caved in.
“Oh dear.” I uttered a quick prayer to Torodin. “I’m sure you’re right. They’ve survived far greater dangers than this. They’re both quite resourceful.”
I could only pray I was right. There was nothing that Val or I could do to help Jven and Canliss. I explained to Val about Canliss’s rope trick spell. We could only pray that they’d managed to cast it. As the long, exhausting night wore on, the fire blazed and the building crumbled. By morning, both Val and I were swaying from exhaustion. There was nothing left of the warehouse but ashes. Nothing stirred.
“Can you find them?” Val asked me.
“Jven! Canliss!” I yelled. There was no answer. “They’re probably praying and studying spells.” I’m not sure who I was trying to convince -- Val or myself. But I knew I couldn’t help anyone without spells of my own. I explained to Val and began my morning prayers to Torodin.
Val helped me to my feet when I’d finished. We were both so tired we could barely stand. The blizzard had finally died, and the sun dawned on a city that still burned in many places. The foul stench of smoke filled the air. Val and I trudged toward the ashes of the warehouse, hoping for some sign of Jven and Canliss.
I was just about to cast a creeping shadow to search for them when Val tapped my shoulder. “Hey look, there’s a hand.”
A six-fingered hand had appeared in mid-air. Thank the gods, they’d managed to hide in the rope trick spell. They climbed down, emerging whole and unharmed. Canliss was looking rather smug, which I thought was rude of him, given how concerned we’d been. But it had been a long night for everyone, so I decided not to hold a grudge.
“I’m so glad you two are all right,” I said.
“We were a bit worried,” said Val. “Not that we could have done anything to help you.”
I frowned at Val. She really didn’t need to admit that.
“We got the fire elemental,” Canliss said smugly.
“Well, let’s go find a place to rest. I can cast the Nap spell on us.”
“We slept all night,” said Canliss.
I glared at him.
“Hey,” said Jven, “there was nothing we could do.”
Well, Val and I certainly needed sleep. We arranged to meet at The Oasis in two hours, and Val followed me back to Strand’s Shadows.



A loose page tucked here inside Nikita’s journal reads as follows:

I found out later from various sources that Gore and Ester had also been quite busy that evening. I’m really going to have to keep a closer eye on those two. Cobbling the tale together as best I can, this is what happened to the two extra-large warriors while the rest of us were fighting fires:
Knowing that they couldn’t expect much help from the city government, the terrified citizens of Istur turned to the temples in their time of need. This was only right and proper, but I’m afraid they were rather disorganized and unruly in their plea for help. All of the temples were mobbed except for Strand’s Shadows. (There are advantages to being perceived as mysterious and otherworldly.)
Ester found herself in Soldiers and Sailors, alone with a crowd of frightened people begging for help. All of the priests had left (no doubt in an attempt to restore order by bludgeoning people). I’m afraid Ester is somewhat used to others taking charge in crisis situations. Her attempts to calm the crowd were somewhat unique. She began by picking up the nearest farmer by the front of his shirt and lifting him up to her eye level.
“I need you, to get those people over there and make them shut up!” She bellowed
I’m afraid that threats yelled by a seven foot tall woman did nothing to reassure the crowd. “Quiet! I need everyone quiet!” Ester continued to bellow, unaware that her shouting was only increasing the corresponding volume of crying and wailing.
Ester was out of her element; brute force was not going to solve her problem. She yearned to go outside and join the fighting (surely somewhere there was fighting), and she prayed for someone to come help her. And someone did come. Unfortunately for everyone involved, that someone was Gore.
Gore rudely pushed his way inside the temple. Ester was easily seen – and heard. “Now YOU! You make them be quiet! YOU – stand with those people over there. All of you, stop milling about! We need more quiet and less milling.”
Gore waded through the chaos to reach Ester. “We need a plan,” he told her. “The first rule of mob management is to isolate the situation.”
(Gore truly is smarter than the average barbarian; he knows several multi-syllabic words. It’s a shame he doesn’t seem to understand their meaning.)
“Right,” said Ester. “Take over.”
“We’ve got to bar the doors.”
This advice was greeted by cries of dismay from the terrified people still trying to push their way into the temple. Who did Gore think he was, closing the doors to a temple?
“But there are still people coming through the door,” said Ester. “Wouldn’t that be wrong?”
“That’s the first rule of mob management,” said Gore. “We have to bar the doors. Then we need to organize our resources. We’ll have them put all their food here in a pile.”
“That’ll be quick,” said Ester, taking a look at the starving, disease-ridden peasants.
“And we’ll have them put their weapons over there.”
“That’ll be quick.”
“And then we can rationally distribute and organize things,” Gore said. He had to yell over all the screaming and sobbing.
“Why don’t we just make ‘em all go in that corner over there?” asked Ester. The press off unwashed bodies was starting to get to her.
The throng of people in the doorway blocked Gore’s attempt to close the door. “Don’t shut us out!” they pleaded. “My sister’s still out there somewhere,” a woman begged. “I can’t find my daddy!” sobbed a little girl.
Gore ignored them and pushed at the door.
“Everybody MOOOOOOVE!” Ester bellowed. The two shut the doors in the face of the panicked crowd. I’m sure Ester felt badly about it.
Ester grabbed a young boy out of the crowd of filthy, rag-covered people. “You, I need your help.”
“O – okay,” stammered the terrified kid.
“Keep an eye out for somebody clean who’s wearing clothes.” She picked him up and pushed him toward the front windows.
“We should organize these people,” said Gore, looking around in disapproval at the crying, starving crowd. The pathetic banging on the closed front doors didn’t seem to bother him.
“I see somebody wearing clothes!” cried the boy whom Ester had appointed as lookout. He stood pressed against the front windows, looking outside. Ester waded through the crowd to take a look. A squire to one of the head Azkalites had come to fetch weapons for his master.
“Why are the doors closed? Open the doors!”
“Open the doors!” cried the mob outside. “Open the doors! Open the doors!”
The smith’s apprentice came running up with freshly made spears and arrows. He looked at the closed doors in confusion.
“Hey, you’re not supposed to be running with those,” Ester cautioned him.
“But, but they need weapons.”
“Open the doors!” yelled the squire.
Ignoring them both, Ester passed the weapons through the bars on the doors. The squire ran off with them, without pausing to tell Ester where the fighting was.
Meanwhile, Ester took stock of the supplies. The quartermaster was nowhere to be found. The refugees needed food and blankets, but the temple’s stores were inadequate and didn’t belong to her. She did manage to stop Gore from devouring everything in the temple’s larder.
“Stop that,” she yelled. “We don’t have enough food to feed the refugees. We need to get these people organized, so we can go outside and start kicking ass.
“I think we should go to bed,” said Gore. “I’m tired.”
Ester glared at him. “We’re not little namby-pamby hide-under-the-bed villagers. Our job is to go out there and kick some ass. We need to find the ass that needs kicking, and kick it.”
“I think we ought to wait till morning,” said Gore. Granted, it had been a while since any of us had slept, but he was being awfully lazy for a big, tough barbarian.
“We need to get these people under control,” said Ester.
“What do you mean?” asked Gore. “We’ve contained the situation.” He gestured to the mob of refugees. Now that they’d been locked inside and had nowhere to go, their frantic scrambling had subsided to the helpless sobs of the depressed and defeated.
“Now you’re thinkin’,” Ester told Gore approvingly. (The very concept is enough to give one nightmares.) “Now we need to organize a javelin brigade.” I’m not sure where she got the idea that a group of half-starved peasants could be formed into any sort of brigade; I really think Gore is having a bad influence on her.
“Are you sure you don’t want to bed down for the night?” Gore persisted.
“No,” Ester yelled. “We have to get out of here.”
“Where are we gonna go?”
“Where all the noise is.”
Gore looked from the sobbing crowd to the closed front doors, where a mob was still clamoring to get in. “You mean you want to go somewhere that’s even noisier?”
Ester nodded. “We gotta find something to fight. We could run to the warehouse and see what’s going on there.”
“The suspicious warehouse?”
“The one with the river of lava under it,” said Ester. “I think that’s pretty suspicious.” Ester dragged Gore off to find the temple blacksmith. He told her that the Azkalite priests had all run out to the tent cities outside the gates, where The Frozen Ones were attacking.
“Yes!” Ester danced happily. She wasn’t really being callous over the poor people being ripped apart by zombies; she was just excited that she’d get to do some fighting.
For reasons known only to herself, Ester felt obliged to leave the crowd of refugees in the temple with instructions. “Okay everybody, listen to him!” she bellowed, pointing at Gore. I’m really going to have to dissuade Ester of this misguided belief that, because Gore insists on calling himself a ‘diplomatic envoy’, he actually knows what he’s doing.
“All right everyone,” said Gore. “Line up alphabetically, in order from oldest to youngest.”
The terrified people in the crowd looked at each other in confusion. At this point they must have been wondering which fate was worse – being attacked by frozen zombies, or being herded by Gore and Ester.
“Gore,” Ester complained. “They can’t read. Okay, now, you, you, you, you and you – line up over there.”
“But, you said listen to him.” A trembling beggar pointed to Gore.
“What’s your name?” said another. “Does B come before C? My name’s Bertrand – how do you spell that?”
“Come on, Gore,” Ester whispered to the barbarian. “We need to get these people organized so we can get out of here.”
“Well, I told them to line up. They’re working on it.”
“But Gore, not everybody can read, you know. Just the really smart people like us. Now, what would you rather be doing – dealing with these people, or kicking ass?”
“I’d rather take a nap.”
Ester glared at him. Gore grudgingly turned back to the refugees, who’d formed something vaguely resembling a line.
“All right, now everyone needs to get a javelin.”
“What’s a javelin?” someone called.
“It’s one of these long, pointy things. I want you to grab one and stick it in anything evil.”
“Gore, no, that’s not what I meant by a javelin brigade,” Ester whispered.
“It isn’t?” As much as I hate to defend Gore, I can understand his confusion.
“No, no. See that boy, he’s going to watch for that squire to come asking for weapons and stuff. We need a line of people from the smithy to the door, so they can pass the weapons to the Azkalite.”
“Oh, well why didn’t you say so? All right everyone, just pass your javelins to the Azkalites.”
The refugees shifted uneasily. “But we don’t have any javelins.” A baby near Ester began wailing loudly.
“Oh.” Gore looked to Ester. “They don’t have any javelins.”
Ester sighed. “You, kid by the door. What’s your name?”
The poor boy cowered. “Arith?” he said uncertainly. He probably would have been willing to change his name if Ester didn’t like it.
“Arith, when the squire comes asking for weapons, the smithy is gonna give those guys all the way at the end of the line some javelins. And they’re going to pass them to you. You got it?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“All right!” Ester bellowed. “Everyone listen to Arith.” Ester grabbed Gore and hauled him out the door, leaving poor, nine-year-old Arith in charge.
Ester and Gore weren’t really sure where the tent cities were, so they made their way to the front gates. They found the Great Gates closed and barred; something I’ve never seen in all my years in Istur.
“Where’s the fighting? They said there was fighting. Where’s the fighting?” Ester asked, jumping up and down in her frustration.
Gore rolled his eyes. “See, I told you. There’s no one to fight. There’s just chaos.”
“We gotta find out where the fighting is,” Ester insisted. She asked the thieves and beggars milling about near the gates, but they just ran away from her.
“Oy!” she yelled up to the crossbow-man perched high up on the gate. “Sergeant Oxshoulders here. Where’s the fighting?”
The man had his back to Ester, with his crossbow trained on the area outside the gates. It can be assumed he didn’t hear Ester over the distance and the howling winds.
“Hey! You! I need a status report of the fighting!”
Gore sighed. “Just have him open the gates. There’s nothing to fight on the other side of the gates; why do you think they’re closed?”
“Duh!” said Ester. “I know that. If there was somethin’ to fight on the other side of the gates, they’d be shooting it.”
Ester bullied her way to the gatehouse. The way to the door was blocked by two portculli. Gore followed along despondently, no doubt dreaming of his soft bed. (I think the other barbarians must have kicked him out for being so lazy; diplomat, indeed.)
“All right, I’ll tell you what we’ll do –“
“Who’s the sergeant here?” Ester demanded, scowling at Gore. I’m afraid her new “power” was going to her head.
“Did you forget that I’m a deputy minister?” Gore countered. The air was ripe with delusions of grandeur.
“My badge is bigger than your badge.” Ester did a little jig in the middle of the street, or so I’m told.
“We’ll gather some of these peasants,” said Gore, ignoring Ester’s claim of superiority. “We’ll give them each a copper piece to go scout outside and report back to us.” How these mythical peasants were going to get through the closed gates or why they’d be willing to sell their lives so cheaply were subjects Gore didn’t care to explain.
Ester, however, managed to persuade Gore that the peasants were unlikely to help them. So the foolish barbarian decided to resume shouting at the crossbowman perched high atop the battlements.
“Hey, what’s outside the gates?!!”
Ester began to echo his cry. Both warriors shouted for several minutes, jumping up and down as if that would make their voices carry over the blizzard. They were both quite disappointed when their little tantrum had no effect.
“All right,” said Gore. “I’ll shoot an arrow next to that guard to get his attention.”
“Nah,” said Ester. “That’s just a waste of an arrow. He won’t be able to hear it. Arrows just go whoooooosh. Who’s going to hear that over a blizzard?”
“We could make it a flaming arrow. He’ll notice that.”
Ester shook her head. “Do you see any fire?”
“Oh,” Gore said sadly. Thank the gods they didn’t have torches. I would have done it for Ester’s sake, but it would have been a chore to convince the city guards that shooting them with arrows wasn’t really an act of treason.
Gore looked around and managed to find a fist-sized rock in the snow. He picked it up and threw it at the hapless crossbow-man. Gore missed.
“Don’t do it like that.” Ester threw and hit the poor man in the back of the head. He yelped in surprise and turned around. No doubt he wasn’t trained to expect an attack from inside the city.
“Move along!” the guard yelled.
“I am Sergeant Oxshoulders,” Ester yelled back. “I order you to give me a report of the fighting in the city.”
The guard disappeared briefly, then returned with two comrades. All three stared down at the two large warriors with varying expressions of disbelief.
“Move along!” yelled the senior of the three guards.
Ester scowled. “Do not make me report you for failure to cooperate with a deputy!” (I’m really going to have to have a little talk with Ester about how much authority her new badge really gives her.)
Finally, two of the guards came down and opened the door at the bottom of the gatehouse so they could talk to Gore and Ester without screaming over the wind.
“Move along! Don’t throw snowballs at the City Watch!”
“I’m Sergeant Oxshoulders, and I need a report of the fighting.” She pointed proudly to the ridiculous badge Lorinar had given her.
The guards peered closely at the badge. “Jvelto’s hairy balls, what the hell kind of badge is that?”
“I’m a sergeant.”
“Sergeant of what?”
“I’m a sergeant deputy of, of the, uh…” She looked uncertainly at Gore.
“Of the City Watch,” he finished.
The guard scowled. “You are not. That’s not a badge of the City Watch. I’m a sergeant of the City Watch. I don’t know what sort of pansy-ass badge of the week that is that you’re wearing. Now kindly move along!”
Gore leaned towards him. “Who are you?”
“I am Sergeant Kendal.” The man glared up at the barbarian. “And I’m the one that’s telling you to move along. Now move along!”
Ester was not inclined to move along, not before she’d gotten to pummel something. “Well, Deputy Lorinar deputized me to be the deputy sergeant. I heard there was fighting, and I need to be there.”
Ester leaned over the sergeant and growled. Well, at least she didn’t pick him up by his shirt.
“I am a sergeant!” Ester yelled. “I’ve got to go do some sergeanting. And there’s nothing here for me to sergeant around!”
The sergeant held a whispered conversation with his two comrades. Apparently they decided that arresting Gore and Ester would be too much trouble; it was easier to simply throw them into the fray, where they would be someone else’s problem. They opened the door and let the two warriors through the inner portcullis.
Sergeant Kendall ushered them onto the battlements. He could have just let them through the gates and been done with it, but no, he had to add to the problem. He took Ester’s badge away, and made them both privates in the City Watch. At this rate, Ester will be replacing the Duke before the week is out.
With this fiasco completed, Ester and Gore were turned loose. The two waded into the battle outside the city gates, where frozen zombies were savaging the helpless people in the refugee camps. The two got themselves nearly killed, then staggered back home, tired, bloody and content.


Val and I ran into Gore and Ester just outside Strand’s Shadows. They were so bloody and bruised they looked as if they’d been trampled by a herd of bison.
“I see you found the fighting,” said Val.
“Good grief, what happened to you two?”
“It was those frozen zombies,” said Ester. “We gotta go back as soon as we get a nap.”
Sighing wearily, I led them in the back door and left them in one of the public rooms. It was only polite that I check in with Donar and Rachel before sleeping. I was rather hoping that they hadn’t noticed my absence, and I said a little prayer to Torodin as I knocked on the door to their office.
The door opened, and Talrien ran past with a message clutched in his fist. Donar and Rachel both sat at their desks. Donar looked up at me and scowled.
“Didn’t I tell you to get some sleep last night?”
“I tried. It was noisy…” I let my explanation trail off, since Donar was having none of it. He was angrier than I’d expected.
He sighed. “There was a reason I told you to get to sleep then, Nikita. Did you think I didn’t have a reason?”
I didn’t know what to say. Usually he only gets this angry with Freddy. “I could cast the Nap spell now. If that’s all right?” I decided not to mention the bloody warriors I’d dragged into the temple. It really wasn’t important.
Rachel sighed. “Some people’s priests.” Well, that was a rude comment. I refrained from reacting to it; seeing me cast dirty looks at Rachel was unlikely to improve Donar’s mood.
Donar dismissed me, and I hurried out of the office. Once we’d finished the Nap spell, I healed Ester and Val. I wasn’t about to heal Gore unless he offered a complete and sincere apology. Besides, I couldn’t very well waste all my spells on healing – that’s what Soltanites are for.
Ester started arguing with Gore that he needed to accept some magical healing, so I took this opportunity to check in with Donar. I knocked on the office door, and Rachel opened it. She made a gesture for quiet, and I slipped inside. The office was in a strange state of disarray, with parchments and spell components scattered everywhere. Donar was clearly in the middle of a long and complicated spell. Rachel sat down and resumed taking notes as Donar continued casting.
I watched them for several minutes while Donar continued casting. Both of them looked haggard. Their eyes were blood-shot and rimmed with shadows. Donar’s hair was a mess, and the unattractive wrinkles on Rachel’s face were even more pronounced than usual. Hadn’t they been getting any rest at all? I was terribly worried about Donar. He’s been pushing himself way too hard.
Finally, Donar finished casting. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “So, have you prayed?” he asked without looking at me. He didn’t sound angry, just completely exhausted.
“Yes. Are you all right? Would you like a Nap spell?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Donar said, as if that were possible. “So, somewhere under the city where you found the river of lava, there is something called The Soul of Ice.”
Rachel handed me her ink well so I could take notes. Naturally I’d brought my quill and journal; a Torodinite is always prepared.
“Somehow, The Soul of Ice is connected to all of this.”
“It’s causing this?” I asked.
Donar shook his head. “It’s not causal. But it’s somehow related to everything that is happening.”
“Do you know what it is?” I asked. Divination is a difficult art; I didn’t know what details Donar might have to offer, if any.
Donar perused his own journal. “No. We know it’s extra dimensional. We don’t know how it got there, and we’re not sure how to get rid of it quite yet. Somehow, it’s channeling power. Our fear is that the people who are dying in the city from disease and hunger are all going to start raising as these Frozen Ones.”
Donar, Rachel and I all exchanged a look. There was no need to put it into words. If hordes of Frozen Ones were raised inside the city walls, Istur would be doomed.
“Do you want us to look into it?” I asked.
Donar sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately, we have no other resources to help you. But you already know where it is, and what you’re dealing with. To be frank, I don’t know if any of the others could survive down there.”
I was surprised to hear him say this. Naturally, I was more than capable of handling this situation, but I’m not the only powerful priest in the temple. I’m sure Luciano or Erisa could have done nearly as well.
“Jven is with us now,” I assured him. “Try not to worry.”
Donar looked grim. “The divinations don’t look good. The city guard won’t hold out much longer against the throngs of undead.”
“Then we’ll hurry. Are you sure you two don’t want a Nap spell?” I hated leaving Donar so exhausted.
“We have no time,” said Donar.
I didn’t argue with him. I did give him a hug. He didn’t get up, but he squeezed my shoulder in gratitude. I nodded confidently to Rachel and left, determined to succeed at any cost.
On my way out, I ran into Dante carrying an arm full of spell components. He looked every bit as tired as Donar and Rachel; Donar has always relied heavily on him whenever things get chaotic. I gave my dear friend a smile and a kiss on the cheek.
“Dante, sweetie, I don’t suppose anyone is around who can cast a few healing spells? My warrior companions are bottomless pits, and I’m trying to save my spells for more important things.”
He shook his head. “Sorry, Kit. Everyone is either sleeping or battling zombies.”
He looked so unhappy, I was sorry I’d asked. I didn’t want to worry him. I patted his arm in reassurance.
“It’s all right. I’ll manage.”
“Wait a second.” He ducked into the supply closet, then returned with a fist full of healing potions. He pushed them into my hands.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered.
I kissed him. “Thanks, Dante. Be safe.”
I picked up some hot cider and bread from the kitchen and returned to my companions – but not before I’d laced Gore’s drink with one of the healing potions. I won’t waste a spell on someone who’s likely to dodge it (especially not before he apologizes), but I was willing to employ a little subterfuge.
I handed out the food. “That’s good,” said Gore happily as the spiked cider healed some of his injuries. “I always feel better after breakfast.”
“We have an urgent mission,” I told everyone what Donar had divined about The Soul of Ice. “We need to act quickly, before the sick and starving people of Istur start turning into frozen zombies.”
“That would be bad,” said Ester. “’Cause there’s a whole bunch of ‘em in the temple of Azkal.”
On that note, we went to The Oasis. Jven and Canliss reacted with understandable alarm when we told them about our vital mission.
“Can’t we rest for one more day?” Gore whined.
I glared at him. “What part of the word ‘urgent’ did you not understand?”
“You are such a coward,” Ester scoffed.
“I’ll have you know I killed more than thirty of these zombies last night,” Gore insisted.
“Really?” I said doubtfully.
“I had to drag his lazy ass out there,” Ester complained.
Jven leaned toward me. “So who’s the… uh… smelly guy from out of town?”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s Ester’s ‘friend.’ I don’t know where she found him; he’s insufferable.”
“What happened to your badge?” Val asked Ester. This led to a long-winded and largely indecipherable explanation of how Ester and Gore became members of the City Watch. While Ester was babbling, Canliss managed a clean cantrip on Gore. Jven and I both thanked him. It was a heart-warming moment. I miss Rhavin and Kariya terribly, but thank Torodin the others are here.
“Will you help us, Jven?” I asked hopefully. “I realize we haven’t had a chance to catch up yet, but the situation is desperate.”
“Okay,” Jven agreed. “But I have stipulations: No mountains on fire.”
“Not a problem,” said Canliss.
“Definitely no mountains,” I added.
“That’s right,” said Ester. “We have to go down stairs.”
“Shh, Ester let me explain.” I ushered everyone outside as I spoke; we were in a hurry. “Underneath a warehouse, we found this secret brotherhood that’s been running around causing a bit of trouble.”
Splash. I turned around to see Gore holding Alanna’s rain barrel, still dripping water into the snow.
“What are you doing?” Ester demanded.
“We need a barrel to carry treasure,” Gore said. He said it proudly, as if this were a brilliant idea rather than the pinnacle of stupidity.
“We are not putting treasure in a barrel,” said Ester. “Now put that back.”
“You don’t have to carry it. You can roll it in a barrel.”
“You see what I mean?” I said to Jven. “He’s insufferable. Completely insufferable.”
Ester settled the argument by smashing the barrel with her sword.
“Ester, that was Alanna’s barrel!”
She looked at me guiltily. “Uh, sorry.”
Jven used a spell to repair the barrel and returned it to Alanna. When all that nonsense had been completed, we resumed our journey to the warehouse and I explained things to Jven.
“We have to find the Soul of Ice and…. do… something with it – Donar will know.”
“We definitely don’t need the barrel then,” said Jven.
“You will help us, won’t you Jven? I’ve really missed you.” This was perhaps laying things on a little too thick, but I was sincere.
“Yeah, Jven,” said Ester. “We need somebody who can cast protection from –“
“Ester, shush. Jven, you’re in your element here. Your powers will be invaluable.”
Jven was starting to look suspicious. “Nikita, you’re sucking up. What are you not telling me?”
“Well, there was a fire elemental,” I admitted. “But we killed that. There were a few… unnatural things. And then there was that river of lava but we really won’t be spending a great deal of time near that.”
“There’s a bridge,” Ester assured her.
“It was a little warm,” said Val, grinning.
Ester nodded happily. “It made grilled cheese sandwiches.”
Jven threw up her hands. “Oh, well that settles it. How can I pass up on grilled cheese sandwiches?”
Nothing stirred as we entered the warehouse, but I had to dispel two walls of force before we reached the first of the rope bridges. This disturbed me; I’m a powerful priestess, but even my spells are not limitless. Still, there was no help for it.
Hot air and the smell of sulphur assailed as I dispelled the second wall. Canliss gave the two rings that we’d retrieved from the statue to Val and me; they would protect us from the heat. Jven cast spells to protect everyone else except the stupid barbarian, who refused her help.
“Everyone stay sharp,” I warned. “Don’t forget about the invisible mage.”
“There are invisible mages?” Jven asked in alarm.
“Oh, did we forget to mention that?”
She scowled. “Where’s the truthful paladin when you need him? There are spiders, down here, aren’t there?”
“No,” I said.
“Well,” Ester said uncertainly, “there were –“
“They were not spiders,” I interrupted. “They were more crab-like in nature.”
“I thought they looked more like spiders,” Ester insisted.
“They were not spiders. But they did rise up out of the lava,” I admitted to Jven.
“They only had two eyes,” said Ester. “But they did suck blood.”
“Ester, shush.”
Val shook her head at Jven. “So you’re afraid of fire and spiders?”
Jven nodded.
“And your friends thought of you first?”
Jven glared at us.
“We really did miss you, Jven,” I insisted.
“Yeah, I’m sure you guys were thinking of me the whole time you were down here fighting spiders over the lava.”
“They weren’t spiders.”
“They kind of were,” said Ester
“Ester shush.”
The rope bridges didn’t look very sturdy, so we headed across two at a time. Well, not quite. Canliss refused to cross the bridge with Gore; he was not unreasonably worried that the clumsy barbarian would knock him off the bridge.
While the rest of us waited tensely for Canliss to make it across, Gore and Ester started their fifth argument over who had dragged whom into the battle against the Frozen Ones. “I miss Rhavin and Kariya,” I said to Jven. “I don’t know what they’re doing right now, but it can’t be any worse than this.”
Jven didn’t argue. We both knew I was right.
We crossed the first rope bridge without incident. We all looked at the blisters on Gore’s skin without much sympathy.
“That must hurt,” I said.
The barbarian glared at me. “I can take it.”
Jven held her nose. “Gods, when you warm him up he smells worse.”
“It’s so nice that Jven’s magic protects the rest of us, don’t you think Val?”
She nodded. “Oh, yes. I’m quite comfortable.”
We left it at that. Gore was going to have to learn to trust magic; apparently he was determined to learn his lesson the hard way.
The rest of us were waiting on the platform at the end of the second rope bridge as the largest of the crab-like, extra-planar creatures rose up out of the lava behind Canliss. This was the one that had paralyzed our warriors with its gaze and carried off the hapless scribe.
“Canliss!” I cried in alarm. If it had been Gore alone on that bridge I would have left him to fend for himself, but I wasn’t willing to risk losing Canliss. I’m fond of him. (Besides, without the clean cantrips, Gore’s smell would have quickly become unbearable.)
I quickly summoned a fiendish dire wasp. The creature immediately turned and grappled it. I didn’t mind; the wasp’s main purpose was to give Canliss a chance to escape – I wasn’t expecting it to last long.
Gore proceeded to fire two arrows into both the extra-planar lava crab and my wasp. Well, now we could be certain the wasp wouldn’t last long.
Jven cast a spell. A bluish, watery tattoo appeared on her face, making her look appealingly exotic. I was reasonably sure that the spell also had a more practical aspect that wasn’t yet apparent. Jven’s not one to be frivolous.
“Aaargh,” Ester ran onto the bridge, conjuring up her flaming blade. Canliss squeezed past her, putting her between him and the creature, then lobbed some magic missiles at it. They streaked along its flaming hide, but they didn’t seem to hurt it much.
I didn’t like this. The creature had carried off the scribe with alarming speed. It could easily do the same to Canliss or Ester before any of us could stop it. I couldn’t let that happen. Praying to Torodin, I cast a spell to Dismiss the creature back to its own plane of existence. It vanished with a satisfying popping sound.
“Hey!” Ester complained.
Nobody else seemed to mind that the awful creature was gone. We regrouped and made it across the third and final rope bridge without incident.
The final bridge let us to more corridors with various doors leading off of them. We explored a supply closet and an empty bedchamber without finding anything of interest. But a large meeting room yielded invaluable information. There was a huge map on one wall, showing a detail of Istur and the surrounding area. Pegs of various colors covered the map; all of the red ones marked buildings that had been on fire last night.
The table was covered with rolls of parchment that were tied in ribbons. Casting ‘comprehend languages,’ I examined them. The scrolls detailed the Brotherhood of the Flame’s plans for their attack on Istur – lists of targets, resources, strengths and weaknesses of the local guard, the army, the Organization, the temples – it was a full-scale battle plan.
“We have to get this information to Donar right away,” I said. “Canliss, if we wait for you here, would you be willing to fly off with it?”
Canliss was amenable. He would have no trouble carrying the scrolls, but the huge map was too large and heavy. The scrolls wouldn’t be as helpful without it.
“Can’t the other priests scry on the map?” Val suggested.
“That’s an excellent idea, Val. But they’re going to need something to help them – an item that they’ll recognize.” I looked through my belongings. Donar would recognize the silver hair combs, but I was reluctant to part with them. However… I lifted the hem of my skirt. Everyone in the temple had made fun of the hideous boots Rhavin had given me in Firestorm peak -- the ones with the mushrooms dangling from the fringe. I love Rhavin dearly, but… well, they were ugly. I put the boots near the map and wrote a note to Donar. (I can always reclaim them later, if they’re still here.)
“He’ll have no trouble scrying on these,” I said.
I replaced them with the high-heeled, thigh-high black leather boots I’d picked up at The Well-Turned Heel. While I arranged my footgear, the others helped Canliss gather up the scrolls and my note. He turned into a giant eagle and flew off.
Waiting for Canliss was stressful, given the urgency of our mission, but it did give me a chance to talk to Jven. I'd been quite worried about her. We sat down at one of the tables and I reached for her hand.
"Jven, how have you been holding up? I'm so sorry about Jveddek."
"Thanks, Nikita," she sighed. "I think Ravenloft is making me paranoid. The old man would have been suspicious about the things going on here, too. Jvothgar...Sara-Ohn...and do you know anything about this Rachel woman that Donar is supposedly sharing power with?"
“Rachel?” I did my best to keep my expression neutral. “She seems very… capable. Donar asked us all to be patient with her. We miss Silvio, but it’s not really fair of us to punish Rachel for that. And I think you’re right to be suspicious. So many of our leaders disappearing or dying at once – it can’t be a coincidence. I’m certain it’s a deliberate attack on the Church, and I’m determined to get to the bottom of it.”
I pulled out my list to show Jven; she’s always been supportive of my penchant for list making. “See, it’s #4 on my to-do list. Although... I’m terribly sorry, Jven, but I may have to rearrange the list a little. Our local problems must take precedence over going back to Ravenloft and rescuing The Endurance.”
Jven’s eyebrows rose as she looked over the list. “You haven’t been able to scry on Rhavin?”
“No,” I said sadly. “I’m afraid Torodin didn’t grant me that spell. I’m planning to pray for it first chance I get. However, I have gotten interesting new powers; I can summon all sorts of creatures. It’s been quite fascinating, really. What about you? Have your powers changed a great deal?”
"Quite a bit," Jven nodded. "I've felt a bit alone in trying to get a handle on how my relationship with Jvelto has changed. Have Donar and Rachel been able to provide much guidance?"
“Guidance? Oh, well, naturally…” I hesitated. This was my friend, Jven; I could tell her the truth. “Actually, their ‘guidance’ has mostly been in the form of criticism. They’ve been a little upset with me ever since Donar caught me summoning a steam mephit to get the wrinkles out of my favorite dress. I – I have to admit I’m a little concerned. Everyone at Strand’s has been acting strangely ever since I got back. Donar was always capable of being stern, but he was never short-tempered before. What do you think, Jven? Have you noticed anything odd?”
Jven chuckled, but she seemed more nervous than amused. "How many mephits are flying around Strand's Shadows? There must be a few of you powerful enough to summon those little guys. Maybe that's making Donar short-tempered."
“No, I don’t think it’s anything so trivial. It must be the storm, and Silvio’s departure, and everything else that’s been happening. He’s under a great deal of stress. And it seems as if he and Rachel are trying to handle everything all alone. I don’t understand it. When we were in Tonn, the churches all worked together. I don’t understand why we can’t have that kind of cooperation here in Istur. Someone needs to take charge. Dougal Wentworth seems to be lacking the initiative, so I think I’m going to have to point him in the right direction. I’ve drawn up a manual for him to follow. Will you come with me, Jven? I’m sure Father Wentworth would be grateful for your perspective.”
Jven paused for thought; she must have been impressed that I’d taken such initiative. "I would have to discuss it with Hal. For me to head straight to Father Wentworth might be seen as undermining him, and he is having a hard enough time with his new authority at Ebb Tide. And, naturally, I would have to familiarize myself with the...forty-seven, you said?...steps of your plan, so I could participate intelligently in the conversation."
Jven’s comments made me realize what a social gaffe I’d been about to make -- and with Rachel so touchy. "Oh, right... I suppose I should check with Rachel. Donar would certainly be grateful if I asked her opinion. Naturally, I'll be happy to have one of the novices make a copy of the manual for you."
I smiled gratefully at Jven. Her comments had helped me to avoid angering Donar again; he doesn’t like it when I’m rude to Rachel. I’ve really missed Jvennika. "It's so nice to be able to talk to you, Jven. Everyone's been so busy at the temple -- I know what you mean about feeling alone. It's not as if I can discuss clerical matters with Canliss and Ester."
"I've missed you, too, Nikita,” Jven said kindly. “Not to mention that I never did hear any more about those nightmares and that 'Ghost Dancer' business. Any more of those, or is Torodin the only one rattling around inside your head these days?"
Now why had she brought up those ridiculous nightmares? "The Ghost Dancer? Why, I'd forgotten all about her. Foolish dreams, nothing more. Such things no longer bother me. I don't even have visions any longer."
"Torodin isn't communicating with one of his favorite priestesses?" Jven looked surprised. I don’t know why. No one has been getting any visions these days; my brother priests are worried, but I’m sure Torodin is occupied with more important matters right now.
"Well, I suppose it might be refreshing to have some privacy in your own head for once,” Jven added.
"Yes, those visions were a bother,” I admitted. “Rather useless, if you think about it.”
Jven looked a little uncomfortable, so I decided it was time to change the subject to lighter fare. “So, do tell me how everyone in Ebb Tide is doing? I heard a rumor that Geralto was having an affair with one of the Azkalites. Is there any truth to that?"
We gossiped about our fellow priests until Canliss returned. Donar had been occupied, so Canliss had left the documents with the secretary. I assured the six-fingered mage that Dante could be trusted to treat them with the importance they deserved; he’s very responsible.
I stood and got everyone back in order. “Let’s go everyone. We have a city to save.”