After so much time in the wilderness, the crush of humanity approaching the Palace of Judgment was jarring. A steady stream of travelers moved along the paved road toward the palace gates. They all seemed to be traveling on foot. Some were empty-handed, while others carried small sacks of food and belongings. They were all pale, like ghosts. Almost all had dark hair and unusual eyes. There was no traffic headed in the opposite direction.
“They look like the Tuigan Horde,” Joel joked.
“Not so loud,” Jedidiah admonished him. “These are the dead of Kara-Tur. The Tuigans invaded their lands as well. Comparisons between the two peoples would be considered a grave insult. The Kara-Tur consider the Tuigans barbarians. Of course, the Kara-Tur consider all outsiders to be barbarians, from the king of Cormyr to the sage of Shadowdale.”
They stepped into the stream of traffic and approached the gate amongst the orderly dead. Standing to one side of the gate, outside the walls, stood one of the living. Walinda of Bane was examining each traveler who approached the gates. The two living priests stood out among the crowd, and the priestess recognized them only a moment after they spotted her. She hurried toward them.
“My master said you would arrive soon,” the priestess said as she took a place beside them on the road.
On one hand, Joel was relieved to see that the priestess hadn’t gotten to Sigil before them. On the other hand, he wasn’t about to forgive her for abandoning them. “What are you doing here?” the bard asked. “Did the banelich kick you out of his chariot?”
“My master has gone on to the astral plane to search for Bane’s body,” the priestess replied coolly. “In the meantime, I have been instructed to oversee the hand’s recovery.”
“You left us behind in Ilsensine’s realm,” Joel accused her.
“”What difference does it make? You escaped. You are alive and unscathed, as far as I can see.”
“No thanks to you,” Joel retorted.
“And I escaped from the Temple in the Sky without your help,” Walinda reminded him.
Joel was silenced.
“But you can’t get into the palace without our help, can you?” Jedidiah taunted. “I guess I forgot to mention that entry to living creatures is rather restricted.”
Walinda’s face reddened, and she glared coldly at Jedidiah.
Like a dramatic tour guide, Jedidiah waved his arm to indicate the palace. “All the dead of Kara-Tur,” the priest explained, “come here to be judged by the Celestial Bureaucracy and sent on to the plane for which the deeds and misdeeds of their lives suited them. That’s why there are gates to every plane here. It is also a place of great order. All who serve within report to a bureaucrat, who in turn reports to a higher bureaucrat, who reports to an even higher bureaucrat, who reports to Yen-Wang-Yeh, Illustrious Magistrate of the Dead, the sole ruling power here. His law is enforced by General Pien and his army of men-shen and go-zu-oni. The gods of Kara-Tur, good or evil, orderly or chaotic, and all those in between rely on this part of the Celestial Bureaucracy to provide them with the inhabitants of their realms. Not one would dare disrupt the business that takes place here. So the palace is also a place where powers and their ambassadors can meet to parlay and exchange prisoners. The powers of other pantheons also meet here, knowing that General Pien and his forces would instantly squelch any disorder.”
“If my master had a fortress such as this, plus all these dead at his command,” Walinda said, “he could rule the Realms.”
“So could Yen-Wang-Yeh,” Jedidiah replied. “But there is nothing in the Realms he desires. All the gods of the Kara-Tur, even the evil and chaotic ones, have a place in the Celestial Bureaucracy and duties to perform. To step out of one’s place, to fail in one’s duty, would bring dishonor.”
“What is dishonor when one has power?” Walinda declared.
“Of course,” Jedidiah replied, “if your master had Yen-Wang-Yeh’s position and his honor wasn’t enough to keep him performing his assigned duties, it would all be over at the end of the year. The Celestial Emperor would call on him to make his report, judge him bereft of his duties, and boot him out. Someone else would be assigned to his position. Your master would be without a job.… Well, here we are.”
They’d reached the iron gate in the wall surrounding the palace. The gate stood wide open, but standing in the gateway, serving as guards, were a number of fearsome, bull-headed creatures that stood over eight feet tall. Some were orange, some gray, some purple. They wore polished armor and ornate robes and were armed with swords and spears.
“Those are the go-zu-oni,” Jedidiah whispered. “Don’t ever get them mad at you.”
The go-zu-oni guards addressed each arrival in a tongue Joel had never heard and pointed out where they should go. One of the bull-headed creatures stepped in front of Jedidiah and addressed him in short bursts in the same foreign tongue.
Jedidiah bowed low and held out a strip of copper engraved with symbols and characters Joel could not identify.
The go-zu-oni took the strip of metal, examined it briefly, and said something else to Jedidiah, then handed back the strip of metal.
Jedidiah bowed again, then instructed the others, “Follow me.”
They stepped through the gate. A few paces inside, beyond the press of the crowd, Jedidiah halted. His companions stopped beside him.
“Lo,” Jedidiah said, gesturing with his arm. “The Palace of Judgement.”
Joel looked at the scene that lay before them. The palace was the size of a city, with thousands of buildings. Unlike a typical city, everything was orderly. Every building was constructed of red brick and stone, and the people moving between the buildings did so in an orderly fashion. There was bustle, but no pushing or shoving or disturbances. There were throngs of the dead in the entry courtyard waiting to enter different buildings, guarded by the go-zu-oni, yet the spacious courtyard still seemed almost empty. Joel guessed the courtyard could have held more than a few armies. Officials dressed in brightly colored robes carried armfuls of scrolls from building to building. Joel spotted a party of tanar’ri and another of baatezu arguing heatedly, but not fighting. A creature like an elephant standing on its hind legs stood addressing a pair of foxes, who also stood on their hind legs. Everything about the scene suggested duty and harmony. Joel stood in silent awe.
“Have we stopped for a reason?” Walinda asked.
Jedidiah chuckled. “No. No reason. Let’s go, Joel.” The older priest led them across the courtyard to the far right. They climbed a stair, passed through the archway of a building, and came out beneath an archway on the other side. Then they descended another set of stairs into a smaller courtyard. There, across the courtyard, stood a building with four staircases leading up to four arched doorways. Intelligent beings stood in four separate lines leading from the doorways, down the stairs, and out into the courtyard. Most of the beings were human, but there were many nonhumans as well, from centaurlike creatures with ram’s horns on their heads to odd creatures that looked like metallic boxes with legs. Some of the beings chatted amicably with others in line, some slouched or griped impatiently, while still others stared straight ahead with blank expressions.
“Pick a line,” Jedidiah told Walinda. “Of course, with your karma, any line you pick is going to be the one that moves the slowest.”
“Why must we get in line?” Walinda asked.
“Because all these people want what you want, to fill out the proper forms to gain an interview with a bureaucrat who will grant them permission to appear before the tribunal that determines whether or not to recommend to Yen-Wang-Yeh’s staff that they be allowed to use one of the portals. Since you’re not from Kara-tur, and you’re not dead, you’ll need special permission. Don’t cause any trouble while you’re waiting. Courtesy is everything to these people. Should you offend someone who turns out to be married to the cousin of the mother of the official we may later have to deal with, then we could end up waiting in lines until Gehenna freezes over.”
A palanquin carried by four go-zu-oni lumbered past them. Reclining on the heavily scented pillows within the box was a horse-headed creature. Human servants ran before the conveyance strewing rose petals at the go-zu-oni’s feet, and others who followed behind gathered the petals back up.
“Who was that?” Joel asked.
“Some general of the animal kingdom whose mother got him his post,” Jedidiah muttered.
“What are you going to do while I’m waiting?” Walinda demanded impatiently.
“I?” Jedidiah asked with a shocked expression. “I will be finding a contact so you don’t have to wait in line. If all goes well, we’ll be in Sigil before the end of the week. Come along, Joel,” he said, turning and heading back up the staircase the way they’d come.
Joel hurried after his god, following him through the hallways of another building, down another staircase, through another courtyard, through another building, then out a moon-shaped door onto a balcony overlooking a garden courtyard with a small pond. Joel dallied at the rail of the balcony, as he was sure one was meant to do, to take in the beauty of the garden and admire the serenity of the scene. Bees buzzed among the gardenias, carp glided through the water, and birds twittered in the trees.
“Dawdle later,” Jedidiah called from behind him. The older priest had circled the balcony and started down a wide staircase into the garden.
Joel hurried down the stairs, but Jedidiah held him back on the landing between the first flight of stairs and the second.
Eight identical bronze statues, covered in a green patina, flanked the staircase. The statues resembled some creature half-way between a dog and a lion. Jedidiah rapped sharply on the third lion-dog on the right. A hollow clank rang out into the courtyard.
A pale green light began to glow in the lion-dog’s eyes. “Finder!” a voice cried out from inside the bronze statue. “You’ve come back to visit!”
“Just a short visit, Shishi,” the older priest replied. “We’re just passing through.”
“Pooh,” the voice inside the lion-dog pouted. “You’re always just passing through. I suppose you want help.”
“I’m too old to wait in line, Shishi,” Jedidiah said with a tired smile, “and too impatient. I need three passes to Sigil.”
“Ah. Not the usual destination of the dead. This may take a while. Will you sing for me tonight, Finder?” Shishi asked.
“You know I will. Oh, but while I’m here, my name is Jedidiah—a priest of Finder.”
The light in the lion-dog’s eyes blinked, giving the illusion that the statue blinked. “But you still look like Finder!” the voice said. “What sort of western custom is this?”
“Humor an old barbarian,” Jedidiah implored, patting the lion-dog’s metal head. “I’ll be waiting in the garden.”
The green light in the lion-dog’s eyes faded.
Jedidiah motioned to Joel with a jerk of his head, and together they walked down into the garden. They crossed a tiny bridge to an island in the center of the pond and sat on a bench in a pavilion overlooking the water.
“In case you hadn’t guessed,” Jedidiah explained, “Shishi is a spirit of a lion-dog. Even though he can’t actually drink, he’s a big fan of drinking songs of the western Realms. Gods only know why.”
“Are you one of the gods who knows why?” Joel asked.
Jedidiah chuckled and shook his head.
“He’ll keep me up until dawn singing for him and four hundred of his equally invisible friends. Still, it beats waiting in line.”
An old woman in orange pants and robe came across the bridge and set down a tray just outside the pavilion. She bowed low to Jedidiah, then recrossed the bridge and disappeared behind a tree.
The tray held a pot of green tea, two cups, and a plate of almond cookies.
“Shishi is also a perfect host,” Jedidiah said.
They took their tea in companionable silence, but when they’d finished, Jedidiah stood up and began pacing. His head twitched once, the way it had shortly after they’d left Ilsensine’s realm.
“Are you all right?” Joel asked.
Jedidiah shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems to me I had an idea, a plan, but I don’t remember it now. I forgot it before I took note of it, if you get my drift.”
Joel nodded. “I do that all the time,” he said.
“But you’re not a god.”
“Oh. Do you think Ilsensine stole it?” Joel asked.
Jedidiah’s head twitched again. Then he shrugged. “I just don’t remember. It’s like a tickle in my brain.” He sighed.
“Was it some way to get back the finder’s stone without giving up the Hand of Bane?” Joel asked hopefully.
“There’s an awful thought.”
A small green ball of light zipped across the bridge and hovered before Jedidiah’s face—Shishi, Joel supposed. The spirit reminded him a little of the firestars of Daggerdale.
“Chief Stellar Operator Pan Ho will take a bribe for a one-time use of the portal to Sigil,” said the lion-dog spirit. “I would suggest something green. We should visit Pan Ho immediately. She’s going to lunch within the hour and will be gone for a week.”
Jedidiah bent over and plucked a newly blossomed gardenia from a bush. “Lead on, O wise Shishi.”
Shishi went zipping back across the bridge, through the garden, and up the staircase. It waited patiently at the top of the steps for Jedidiah and Joel to catch up.
“That spirit is four hundred years my senior, and it still leaves me eating its dust,” Jedidiah grumbled.
Miss Pan Ho was a grumpy dumpling of a woman who eyed Jedidiah with some distrust until he presented her with the gardenia “to brighten the efficient austerity of her office.” A small but flawless emerald shimmered in the heart of the flower. Miss Pan Ho sniffed at the flower with a smile on her face. After pocketing the blossom, she rummaged through a drawer filled with keys and drew out a large one made of lead. She handed it to Jedidiah. There was a tiny slip of paper attached to the key, printed with symbols in the Kara-Tur language. Then Miss Pan Ho locked her drawers and left the room. Throughout the entire exchange, she never said a word
The paper attached to the lead key, Jedidiah explained, instructed the holder of the key that Door Number 26 of the Hall of Confused Dreams was to be locked when people left at noon to eat and rest. The opposite side explained that if anyone found the key it should be slid under the door of Room 26 of the Hall of Confused Dreams.
“So we’re supposed to use the key when no one’s there and leave it in the room?” Joel guessed.
“Very good,” Jedidiah replied. “A little practice and you could master the fine art of bribery, Kara-Tur style. I’ll spend the evening with Shishi, then we’ll leave for Sigil in the morning.”
With Shishi riding on Jedidiah’s shoulder, Joel and Jedidiah returned to where Walinda waited. If the lines had moved, it wasn’t by more than three feet. Walinda glared all around her with annoyance.
Jedidiah sauntered up to the priestess. “You won’t need to wait anymore. I obtained access to the portal from a friend.”
“Good,” Walinda replied, stepping out of the line.
Almost instantly the line moved up ten feet.
The three adventurers followed Shishi back to his garden.
The old woman who’d served them tea brought them a dinner of fish, pickled cabbage, and something Jedidiah called noodle soup.
After they’d eaten, Shishi assigned them each a tiny room overlooking his garden. Each room held a woven straw mat with blankets, a wooden pillow, a silk robe, and a low writing table.
Jedidiah announced that he was going off with Shishi to “sing for their supper.” Joel offered to accompany him, but Jedidiah suggested quietly that the young bard remain behind in case Walinda needed company.
Joel thought that highly unlikely, since the priestess had remained completely silent throughout the meal, but the young bard nodded in agreement. Immediately after Jedidiah and Shishi left, Walinda retired to her room to rest.
Joel enjoyed the solitude of the garden. With the banelich in another plane, all his worries seemed far away. He tried to compose something on his birdpipes that expressed the harmony he felt in this place of the dead, but jarring notes continued to block the melody. In his head, he knew that this was just the calm before the storm. Sooner than he wished, he and Jedidiah would be confronted with the dilemma of the Hand of Bane. He continued to worry about what choice Jedidiah would make.
When darkness fell upon the garden, the bard retired to his room. He left the door open to the perfumed night air and sat down on his mat. He pulled off his tunic and began unbuttoning his shirt. He wasn’t yet tired enough to sleep, but there was nothing else for him to do. He felt suddenly very lonely.
Someone rapped lightly on the wooden frame of his open door. Joel looked up. Walinda stood there, looking as aimless as he felt. She wore nothing but the red silk robe she’d found in her room. She had shed her haughty expression with her armor, and only her facial tattoos and the gem in her forehead served as a reminder of her tyrannical beliefs.
“Do you wish to be alone?” she asked.
“Not really,” Joel said with a smile, although the priestess wouldn’t have been his first choice of company. “Come on in.”
The priestess of Bane slid gracefully into the room. She carried a pottery flask with two small china cups. She set them down on the table and then sat down beside Joel on the mat. She settled to the floor with a little less grace, almost a fall.
Joel pulled away a few inches. “What’s this?” he asked, nodding at the flask.
“Something to drink,” Walinda explained. “It’s quite good. Try some.”
Joel leaned over and poured a little of the beverage into one of the cups. The liquid was clear and very warm. He brought it up to his lips and sniffed. There was a strong odor of alcohol. He sipped the drink. It was strong and a little acrid.
“Where’d you get this?” the young bard asked.
“The old slave brought it for me,” Walinda said. She leaned over and poured herself a full cup.
Joel wondered if Walinda had somehow asked for the drink, or if the servant woman had brought it of her own volition. Of course, there was also the possibility that Jedidiah had recommended to Shishi that it be provided to the priestess.
Walinda held up her cup. “What shall we drink to?” she asked.
Joel thought for a moment. They still didn’t have much in common. “To Shishi’s hospitality,” he suggested.
Walinda nodded and took a drink from her cup. She closed her eyes and exhaled.
Joel took another cautious sip. The beverage was far stronger than anything he was used to drinking.
“What song were you playing in the garden?” Walinda asked.
“I was just trying to compose something. The melody wouldn’t come out right.”
“Your god is not with you tonight,” Walinda said with a knowing nod, leaving her head hanging down so that she stared into her cup.
“You might say that,” Joel replied, trying to hide his grin.
The priestess was oblivious to the bard’s amusement. “It is worse for me. I have been with Bane, and now his absence is like a rent in my heart.”
“I didn’t know you could miss abuse,” Joel said caustically.
“Bane is the embodiment of power, of strength. For him to allow any to question his authority would be a demonstration of weakness. The feel of his power is like this drink, sharp and strong. When he shared his power with me, I was happy. Now that he is in another plane, I cannot call on him for power.”
“You can’t cast any spells unless he’s near?” Joel asked.
“He is strong, but he is only the essence of the god,” Walinda explained. “He cannot send his power across the astral void.”
“He doesn’t know half of what Jedidiah knows about anything. He’s just a banelich using you for his own mad schemes.”
Walinda set her hand down on Joel’s knee and leaned in closer to the young bard. “My lord Bane said you would try to sway my belief in him, Poppin. He knows you are jealous of his power. He is wise as well as powerful.” Her fingers tightened on his knee, her nails poking into his flesh. The scent of the wine about her was cloying.
Joel lifted her hand away and set it on the table. “I couldn’t care less about his power. You were the one who came in to talk to me,” he pointed out. “Could it be that you have your own doubts? Could it be that you’re tired of being the slave of a heartless lich?”
Walinda chuckled. “But the banelich does have a heart, Poppin,” she confided with a drunken certainty. She slid her hand into his shirt. “He keeps it here in a small silver box.” She pressed her fingers against his breastbone and slid her hand along his ribs.
Joel grabbed at her wrist and once again pulled her hand away from his body, then released it.
Walinda jerked her head up and breathed in deeply. “I am prepared to admit,” she said with the exaggerated enunciation of an offended drunk, “that the banelich who holds my lord’s essence is not perfect. It has its weaknesses. The fool has borne your mentor’s insolence because it is afraid we will not succeed without his help. Desperation and fear are weaknesses not to be tolerated.” She downed the rest of the drink in her cup and set it down on the table.
“So why are you helping this weak thing become Bane?” Joel asked.
“When Bane is resurrected, the banelich will not matter. I will be Bane’s chosen priest,” she whispered excitedly. She put both hands on his face and leaned forward.
Joel clenched his jaw, determined to show no reaction to the priestess’s kiss. But Walinda did not kiss him. Instead, she bit him on the lower lip, not too hard, but not gently either.
More than a little frightened, Joel grabbed both her wrists and pulled away. “How do you know Bane won’t choose the banelich for his priest?” he asked. “Suppose it really is Bane’s essence that’s desperate and afraid? Suppose you’ve enslaved yourself to a weak god who is jealous of your own strength? What kind of weak, desperate fool does that make you?”
Walinda stiffened. “My Lord Bane is power and strength. I will not tolerate your blasphemy.” She rose unsteadily to her feet and strode to the door, bumping her shin on the table as she passed. She turned in the doorway. “My only foolishness was expecting you might wish to share in my triumph. When we find the Hand of Bane, you will witness my god’s resurrection and see me exalted as his most loyal servant. Then you will know what true power is. I will ask Lord Bane to take you to your god, Poppin, so that you may see what a poor, cheap thing your Finder is beside my lord.”
Then she spun about and strode out the door toward her own room.
Joel picked up his cup and held it up. “Here’s to you, Finder, you poor, cheap thing,” he toasted, then drained the cup. Finder, he knew, would laugh at the irony.
Joel couldn’t remember falling asleep. He awoke in a dark place, with a throbbing headache, and realized he was bound hand and foot and slung over the shoulder of some great monster. His insides churned, and he heaved the contents of his dinner and Walinda’s liquor down his captor’s back.
The creature growled some unknown word, no doubt a curse, and set Joel down, none too gently, on the ground. A lamp shone somewhere in the distance, silhouetting Joel’s captor. The bard gasped. The monster was one of the bull-headed soldiers of the Celestial Bureaucracy, a go-zu-oni. The bard wracked his aching head trying to figure out what had happened, why he was being carried off.
The go-zu-oni pulled off its cloak and wiped off the garment with the bottom of Joel’s shirt. Joel cried out, and the go-zu-oni stuffed a rag in his mouth, then swung him back over its shoulder.
Joel couldn’t see where he was or where they were going. He was having trouble breathing and only wished that the go-zu-oni would set him down again soon. Joel passed out.
He regained consciousness to the sensation of ice-cold fingers stroking his face. He was lying on the ground. Someone holding a lantern hovered over him. Joel squinted in the light, trying to make out the someone’s face.
“Yes. This is the one,” a familiar voice said.
Joel’s eyes widened. It was the banelich who held the lantern. The undead creature’s lipless smile, which exposed its brown teeth and yellow tongue, was horrible to see. The young bard shuddered.
The banelich set the lamp on the ground and turned away from Joel to address the go-zu-oni who stood behind him. “You’ve done well.”
“Now you will pay me what you promised,” the go-zu-oni demanded.
“Accept your reward,” the banelich whispered and reached out to touch the giant creature.
The go-zu-oni gasped and fell to the ground, its face very near Joel’s. The creature’s eyes were open but unblinking. Blood ran from its mouth, nose, and ears. The banelich had killed it with a touch.
The undead creature bent over Joel again and grabbed a fistful of his hair. Joel tried to wriggle away, but the banelich held him fast. “Now we will see what sort of fool your master is,” it said. “I believe he will do anything to purchase your worthless life.”
The banelich whispered an unknown word, and a black aura surrounded the fingers of its free hand. It brushed aside Joel’s shirt and lay its hand on the bard’s chest near his heart.
A searing cold tingled over Joel’s flesh, and an agonizing pain shot through his lungs and heart. Joel’s scream was stifled by the rag in his mouth.
“I need you alive,” the banelich said, “but you must pay for your master’s insolence.
Unable to respond, Joel glared up at the undead monster with hatred.
“Yes,” the banelich said, removing its hand. “You think you are strong. Torturing you will be delightful. Then I will trade you for the Hand of Bane and still keep your master’s stone.” The banelich stood up. “I must write your precious Jedidiah a note. When I return, we will journey to the astral plane.”
The banelich picked up the lantern and strode off, leaving Joel in the dark. Joel heard the clang of a metal door, then silence.
The chill in Joel’s chest was unbearable. He laid his bound hands over his heart, desperate for warmth. He couldn’t let the banelich use him to force Jedidiah’s surrender of the Hand of Bane. He had to escape, but how? What could he do?
It took him several moments to gather his wits, but finally it occurred to him that first he needed to escape the pain, and to do that he had to cast a spell. That, in turn, meant he must be able to speak. It took him what seemed like an interminably long time to push the rag out of his mouth with his tongue, but he finally succeeded.
He gasped for air, then hastily murmured a healing prayer. Warmth spread across his chest and the pain subsided. Now he was able to think more clearly.
He needed to free himself from his bonds. He wriggled over beside the go-zu-oni’s body and, in the dark, began feeling around the creature for a weapon. Joel could find no sharp-edged weapon on the monster. Its body was colder than its armor.
Metal armor can be heated, Joel thought, remembering the spell Jedidiah had taught him. Concentrating on the go-zu-oni’s spiked helmet, Joel whispered the words that would warm the metal to a searing red heat.
The stench from the go-zu-oni’s hair was awful, but Joel managed to burn away the sisal rope at his wrists and ankles without burning his own flesh too badly. Then he crawled in the direction of the door.
He found the door in the dark. There was no light coming from under or over the door or through the keyhole. Joel put his ear to the door. No sound came from beyond. With no clue to guide him, the bard’s only choice was to risk it.
Joel stood up and turned the door handle. The handle turned easily. The door opened soundlessly. Only darkness lay beyond.
With his heart pounding, Joel stepped through the doorway. There was no alarm. He slid along the wall until he spotted a light, not a red light like the lich’s lantern emitted, but a bright magical light with a blue tinge. Joel followed the glow.
Suddenly he found himself in the streets of the palace, surrounded by unrecognizable buildings. The blue light came from an iron lamppost. Joel began running through the streets without a clue where he was heading but determined to get as far as possible from the banelich.
He heard footsteps following behind him, and he ran faster. He missed a step down into a courtyard and landed sprawled out on his hands and knees. The footsteps grew closer.
Joel shouted and rolled over. Shishi’s servant, the old woman in orange pants and robe, stood over him, hissing furiously with her finger over her lips.
Joel grew instantly quiet. The old woman helped him to his feet, then motioned for him to follow. The bard hurried after her as she led him through a maze of passages and streets until they had once again reached Shishi’s garden.
Joel rushed into Walinda’s room, but the priestess was out cold, sleeping off the effects of the beverage she’d served him. Joel could smell it all about her. She didn’t appear to have had anything to do with her master’s plan, but she must have known the banelich hadn’t gone to the astral plane—unless the undead creature had left, then returned to arrange Joel’s abduction.
Joel turned away from the priestess in disgust. He would question her later. Right now he felt sick and exhausted. The old servant stood outside Walinda’s door. On either side of her stood two lion-dogs, not spirits or metallic statues, but flesh-and-blood beasts with sharp teeth and rippling muscles.
“Rest,” the servant said. “You have nothing to fear now. You will not be disturbed again.”
Joel bowed his thanks and slid into his own room. He fell to the mat and was asleep within minutes.
Jedidiah slid Joel’s door open as the Rebel Bard was finishing dressing. “Good morning,” the god greeted him with a look of concern on his face. “I understand you had some excitement here last night.”
Joel nodded. He told Jedidiah all he remembered about his abduction. Jedidiah’s face colored with anger as Joel spoke, but the god listened without comment until Joel finished.
“I was a fool not to expect some treachery from the banelich,” Jedidiah said. “I felt safe leaving you alone in Shishi’s quarters. Poor Shishi is beside himself with shame that this happened to you while you were his guest. He’s called in several favors. The powers-that-be are turning the palace inside out searching for the banelich. The go-zu-oni are desperate to prove their honor in the wake of the shame that one of them was bribed. They’re also eager to avenge their comrade’s death. If the banelich hasn’t fled to the astral plane by now, he’s in big trouble. As for Walinda—”
“I’m not sure Walinda had anything to do with it,” Joel said. “She seemed really drunk last night … but maybe she’s just a good actress. Maybe she brought that liquor over intending to get me drunk so the go-zu-oni could carry me off.”
“The liquor was my fault,” Jedidiah admitted. “I asked Shishi to provide her with some. I sensed she would be amenable to a little bottled warmth. I hoped she might be having a crisis of faith and would admit it to you in a weak moment.”
Joel shook his head. “No such luck. She wanted someone to stand beside her in awe of Bane’s power, to share her triumph with a little celebration. I suggested that Bane—the real thing, not the lich—might be a desperate coward, and she stalked off. If the door didn’t slide, she would probably have slammed it behind her.”
“You don’t think maybe she overreacted for a reason?” Jedidiah asked.
“Because she knew the banelich was listening?” Joel asked.
“No,” Jedidiah replied. “Because she secretly suspects that Bane may not be all she hopes for.”
Joel had to mull that one over for a minute. “I’m not sure,” he said finally. “I just can’t understand why she tolerates the banelich’s treatment of her.”
“If it really holds the essence of Bane, the banelich makes her feel strong, despite its abuse of her. When we first met the banelich, remember how it painwracked Jas and Holly, but you managed to stand against its power?”
Joel nodded with understanding. “I looked at you and felt strong,” he said. “But I didn’t know you were a god then.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jedidiah said. “You took strength from my presence. Walinda would feel the same in her god’s presence.”
“Maybe she just thinks she’s stronger,” Joel said. “She mentioned that Bane couldn’t grant her spells when the banelich was in the astral plane,” Joel said. “You don’t suppose that Bane has never been the one to grant her spells, do you? Isn’t there some spell that allows a priest to give spells to someone who isn’t a priest?”
“Yes,” Jedidiah said. “But that still leaves the question of who’s giving the banelich its own spells.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Joel said.
“Walinda’s still sleeping. Let’s go out in the garden for breakfast,” Jedidiah said.
Joel followed Jedidiah into the garden. On the little island in the middle of the pond, someone had set a tray with bread and honey and milk and berries. After they had eaten, Joel related in detail his conversation with Walinda. When he mentioned Walinda’s comment about the banelich keeping its heart in a silver box, Jedidiah sat straight up and his eyes widened. A low whistle escaped his lips.
“I never imagined just how crazy the banelich really was,” Jedidiah said.
“Why? What does the silver box mean?” Joel asked.
“It’s his phylactery,” Jedidiah explained. “It holds a lich’s immortality. A lich usually keeps it hidden carefully away. If you destroy a lich’s body, it reforms in a day or so around the phylactery. The only way to really kill the lich is to destroy its phylactery. By carrying it with him, the lich is taking a tremendous risk. If he’s killed, he won’t be able to come back.”
“Then it would be easy to kill him?” Joel asked excitedly.
Jedidiah shook his head. “A phylactery explodes when it’s destroyed. Kills anyone near it. It would definitely destroy the finder’s stone. The lich is so arrogant about its power, it doesn’t believe anyone would dare attack it.”
“Or it could just be too paranoid to give the phylactery to Walinda,” Joel supposed.
Jedidiah nodded. “It wants her completely enslaved to its will. We were talking about the strength Walinda feels when she’s near the lich. I think her longing for that strength is one of the reasons the banelich insisted on sending her with us,” the older priest said. “Despite the talk about her ‘supervising’ us, it has to know she’s no match for the two of us should we decide to take the upper hand. It’s relying on her desire for Bane’s presence to strengthen her loyalty. Of course, it’s playing a dangerous game, risking her soul with heretics like us.”
“Why?” Joel asked.
“Not being a god, the banelich can’t feel it, but the strengthening cuts both ways. Walinda can strengthen Bane with her devotion. Without it, the resurrected god will be weakened.”
Joel looked up at Jedidiah curiously. “Do you feel strengthened by my devotion?”
Jedidiah nodded. “They say that every time someone mentions a god’s name, whether in curse or in prayer, he is strengthened. Without his name being spoken, a god fades. But the prayers of the faithful, particularly the prayers of a priest, are much more important. And when those prayers come from the god’s chosen priests, that brings a special power.” Jedidiah paused and looked out over the water. “That’s why I had to stand up to the banelich in the desert when you called on me,” he continued, “even though you used my false name. The strength you made me feel was something my heart couldn’t deny, even though my reason told me I was taking a tremendous risk.”
“Didn’t you care about Jas or Holly?” Joel asked with a stab of irritation.
“Yes, but not enough to risk you. That’s why I’m going to Sigil with you, because I can’t bear to risk having you going in alone.”
“How will you be able to do that?” Joel asked, suddenly uneasy, remembering that Jedidiah had said he had a reckless trick that might get him into the City of Doors.
“First do me a favor. Sing me the tulip song.”
Joel’s scrunched his face up in confusion.
“Humor me,” Jedidiah asked.
The Rebel Bard sighed. He cleared his throat. Then he sang, no longer hesitating over the oddness of the tune or the words. He sang the song with confidence from beginning to end.
“Excellent,” Jedidiah said. He stepped out of the pavilion and pulled the saurial’s half of the finder’s stone from his boot.
Jedidiah uttered some words completely unknown to Joel. Then he began singing a scale, each note perfect and distinct, his voice rising over and over again. As he sang, his body began to steam, just as it had when Joel had watched him store his power into his own half of the finder’s stone. Now, instead of blue, the steam was a myriad of colors, ranging through the whole spectrum, as if a rainbow were flowing from his body and being sucked up by the stone.
Joel watched in fascination until Jedidiah swayed and nearly fell forward into the pond. The young bard leapt up and steadied his god with his hands on his arms. Jedidiah looked exhausted. He also looked old—not as old as when Joel had first met him, but older than he had appeared moments ago. There was something else odd about him. Somehow, to the young priest, he no longer seemed like Finder.
“Jedidiah,” Joel asked in a frightened whisper, “what did you just do?”
“Since gods can’t get into Sigil, I stopped being a god,” the old man explained. “Remember when I told you that the stolen half of the finder’s stone holds the power that give me the godly abilities to sense what’s going on around me, and around you, and the ability to teleport and to cast any spell?”
Joel nodded.
Jedidiah held up the finder’s stone. “Well, now this half of the stone contains the power to use all the abilities that I had left—all my remaining godly endowments: my ability to grant you spells, my ability to shapeshift, even my immortality. Now I should be able to get into Sigil … I hope.”
“But—but—” Joel stammered, “how could you be so reckless? What if something happens to you? You could die!”
“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Jedidiah said. “But if it does, then this can help you to resurrect me. Just as the Hand of Bane can restore Bane, this stone will restore me. You and Copperbloom must take the stone to the astral plane, find my body, and sing the song for my rebirth.”
“Why couldn’t you just let me go to Sigil alone with Walinda?” Joel asked in exasperation. He pulled his hands way from Jedidiah’s arms. “Don’t you think I can handle the job?”
“Joel, there are going to be protections around the Hand of Bane. Some guardian, probably several. That’s why Bane needs us to get it. Why risk his priestess’s life when he can risk mine or yours? And besides that danger, you’d still have Walinda to contend with. She’s a vicious, selfish woman, determined to have her way. She may be without spells, but she is by no means powerless. She would arrange some way to keep you for herself, whether you were willing or not. Or if Bane requested it, she would relish sacrificing you, in the most horrible manner imaginable, to gain his favor.”
“But you’re mortal now. You’re taking the same risks,” Joel argued.
Jedidiah’s shoulders sagged like a beaten man. “Ten years ago, when I became a god, all I really wanted was immortality. Well, immortality plus eternal youth. I hadn’t planned on becoming a god. It just happened. I’m not saying I wasn’t pleased, but until that moment in the desert when you called on me, I’d never really understood what being a god meant. Joel, there isn’t any point in my being a god without you. Not to me.”
Joel looked down, embarrassed by Jedidiah’s confession.
“Anyway, now we travel just as friends,” Jedidiah said. “I hope.”
Joel looked up and smiled. “Always,” he said.
Jedidiah held out the finder’s stone. “You have to carry this now. I trust you to do a better job holding on to it than I did holding on to the other half.”
Joel took the stone. It felt warm to the touch. Inside, a tiny light seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Joel tucked the stone into his shirt. He and Jedidiah spent the rest of the morning singing songs in the garden.
Walinda woke shortly before it was time for them to leave. If she was surprised to see Joel, she didn’t show it. At Jedidiah’s suggestion, they made no mention of the abduction.
Shishi accompanied them to the Hall of Confused Dreams, where they would find the portal to Sigil. Walinda was quiet and sullen, as if she really were suffering from a hangover.
As they approached the door to Room 26, Jedidiah drew out the key he’d bribed from Miss Pan Ho. He unlocked the door. The room was empty save for a shimmering gray portal against one wall.
Shishi blinked by the doorway. “Thanks for the songs, Finder,” the spirit said. “Er—priest of Finder,” he added quickly.
Walinda, her eyes closed, appeared oblivious to the exchange.
“Farewell, Shishi. Until we meet again,” Jedidiah said, bowing to the lion-dog spirit.
Shishi twinkled once, then zipped away.
Jedidiah shut the door and locked it, leaving the key on the floor just before the door. Then he turned about to face the magical portal to Sigil. He motioned for Walinda to step through first.
The priestess disappeared in the portal as if she had been swallowed by quicksand.
“Let me go through next,” Jedidiah said, “just so I’m sure you’re not there alone with Walinda, in case I can’t get through.”
Joel nodded. Jedidiah stepped through the portal and disappeared just as Walinda had.
The Rebel Bard took a deep breath and followed his friend through the doorway into the city of Sigil.