As suddenly as the spell had taken Hederick, it left. He slumped over the altar, ill with vertigo, nearly retching. The sounds of the rabble soared around him.
"Did you hear?" "What was that all about?" "That's not like the other revelations." "What does it mean?" "Is the Theocrat growing senile?" "Perhaps he's a prophet." "Do the gods really speak through Hederick?" "What do we do now?" "Is it over?" "Can we leave?" Babies cried. A few older children whined. Hederick forced himself upright. Instead of the Pres shy;ence, Dahos stood at the top of the stairs. The Plainsman held out a clean cloth in one hand and a spare chalice filled with mead in the other.
The crowd stilled amid a chorus of "Hush!" and "There's more!"
Hederick took the tiny goblet, dragged himself to the pulpit, tried to speak, and broke into a paroxysm of coughing. He rolled the blessed beverage around his mouth, but it was as though his tongue itself absorbed the liquid. There was little left to swallow.
"Tonight…" Hederick, relieved to hear his own voice again, coughed and tried to speak. "Tonight…"
Dahos was at his side once more, holding out a small object. The Diamond Dragon! Hederick snatched the arti shy;fact. "Tonight, we have been in the presence of some shy;thing …" How to describe it? If he said it were evil, would that suggest that Solace's own High Theocrat was vulnera shy;ble to diabolical forces? "… in the presence of something stronger than us, something holy. It is yet to be explained, but rest assured that the answer will come. The New Gods will explain all in the end."
The High Theocrat paused to gather his strength and look around the Great Chamber. Ancilla the lizard-woman was gone.
The crowd remained. All those staring eyes-wanting something, demanding something. Why was it always Hederick's lot to provide? His mind was as empty as a wind-scoured desert.
He clutched the Diamond Dragon to his chest. "So be it," he rasped out. "Tonight's revelation is over."
Hederick, High Theocrat of Solace, bolted past Dahos, down the steps and out the double doors.
Marya put down the quill and rubbed her eyes. Olven stood in the shadows next to the door of the Great Library, waiting to take his turn at the desk. He was unsure whether Marya had heard him enter, she was so still.
At this hour of the night, only a few scribes, all of them apprentices, remained in the Palanthas library. Those few sat as silently as Marya did, on stools and chairs before desks that held numerous quills and pieces of parchment. Each desk was illumi shy;nated by a single candle, which cast a small circle of yellow light. The rest of the library was pitch-black. At night in the Great Library of Palanthas, there was no gray-only light and dark. Astinus was in his private study down the hall, not to be disturbed.
"Isn't there something we can do?" Marya finally asked, not seeming to expect an answer.
So she was aware of him. Olven had not read the latest pas shy;sage, the one that Marya had recorded. But he remembered his own feelings of helplessness after inscribing his most recent seg shy;ment ofHederick's current schemes.
"We are doing something, Marya," he said, affecting a confi shy;dence he certainly didn't feel. "We're recording the actions of a madman. The world will judge him, even if we can't. Remember our oath of neutrality."
"Yet you've read Eban's work on Hederick's a. aood," Marya returned. "Hederick wasn't always evil. Look at the things that happened to him when he was still an innocent child. He was just… adapting."
Olven shrugged. He remembered something his mother used to tell him when he was railing against the world's injustices. "Bad things happen to a lot of people," he quoted now. "The choice between good and evil is still a personal decision."
"But can't we stop him, Olven?"
The dark-skinned scribe was well aware that Marya knew the answer to that question as well as he did, but he spoke anyway, partly to remind himself. "We can't influence history. We can only record it. We are scribes. We must remain neutral. Remem shy;ber the oath, Marya."
"But someone has to stop him, Olven!"
"If the gods mean for Hederick to be stopped, someone will stop him."
Marya was silent for a few moments. "Someone tried for years-his sister. Yet Ancilla seems to be no more effective against Hederick than … than we are, Olven. By the gods, I wish I were there in Solace!"
Olven watched her steadily but said nothing. At last Marya sighed and rose from the chair. Without another word, she handed him the quill and left the Great Library.
Chapter 10
Tarscenian!
The wispy voice jolted Tarscenian out of a doze. He'd found himself a new hiding place among the ferns and trees, and was waiting for nightfall. "What is it, Ancilla?"
Hederick dropped the Diamond Dragon.
Tarscenian sat up. "You have it?"
I could not lift it!
The whisper was thick with disappointment. The voice, which had never been potent, faded even more.
lam constrained. I can call up a formidable Presence, but no corporeal body. With a simple panic spell, I was able to stop Hederick from immediately retrieving the Dragon himself and was also able to control him enough to help him make a fool of himself. But…
Tarscenian missed the next few words, so quiet had the voice become. Then it returned, slightly revived.
But then that high priest of his rushed up the stairs and straight through me-with the artifact! It broke my spell, Tarscenian. I am weaker than ever, by Paladine's laoe. I had the power of forty mages, and what good did it do me?
Tarscenian heard nothing but the sighing of wind for a long time, then another whisper.
What will I do, Tarscenian?
"Rest, my dear," Tarscenian whispered. "Leave Heder-ick alone. Gather your strength. Leave this to me for now." He rose and belted on his sword. "It is time for me to explore Solace. Rest, Ancilla."
I suppose I…
Then nothing.
"Ancilla?"
An agitated Tarscenian waited for nearly an hour, until the moon Solinari was rising in the sky, red Lunitari slightly behind. There was no further word from Ancilla, and Tarscenian's worry and impatience grew at last to unbearable bounds.
Finally he pulled up the hood of his cloak and set out for Solace.
Chapter 11
Most of the treetop pillage had settled into the stillness of night-time, but one section of Solace never slept. This was the part of Solace where the northern refugees congregated with talk and activity, day and night.
Solace's lodgings for travelers had long since filled. Nearly every resident had found sleeping space on the floor for one or two visitors-for a hefty price, of course. Refugees who had arrived more recently had been forced to set up camp on the damp forest floor, bereft of the pro shy;tection that a vallenwood perch would afford.
Hood up, Tarscenian stalked unnoticed through argu shy;ing humans, dwarves, and elves. Even a few centaurs walked the paths, although none of the hoofed creatures ventured up onto the bridge-walkways, of course. The presence of the solitude-loving centaurs in a population center was a sure sign that something was gravely amiss onKrynn.
Tarscenian stepped carefully around puddles and mud and muck. The light of the moons did not penetrate through the vallenwood canopy to the forest floor; torch shy;light was the rule in the refugee section. The torch smoke burned his eyes, which were already strained from pierc shy;ing the darkness. The smell was unbearable-the refugees dumped their wash water and garbage wherever they cared to.