at reversing your condition.'
'If you're not too busy,' Jas said without enthusiasm.
'My appointment calendar is empty. Have a seat,' Finder said, pulling forward the chair from which he'd just risen.
Jas sat down with her ankles crossed and her hands in her lap, looking like a prim schoolgirl.
'I'm going to do a little metaphysical examination first,' the god said. 'Shouldn't hurt, but I'm going to have to touch you.'
Jas shrugged.
Finder reached out with his right hand and touched Jas on the forehead lightly with his fingertips, then stepped back. He studied her for several moments.
'I'm going to attempt a transformation now,' the god said to the winged woman. 'Relax. Don't resist the magic.'
'I'm as relaxed as I get,' Jas said through clenched teeth.
Finder reached out and laid his hands on Jas's head.
Immediately the winged woman's form started to shimmer like the air over hot desert sand.
'It's working,' Emilo whispered.
The feathers covering Jas, from the green crest on her forehead to the small black down on her face and hands, began to sparkle. Jas brushed at them irritably, and they fell from her flesh as if she were a molting bird. Her skin glowed softly, and the scaly pores that held the quills sealed over. She was left with the same rosy complexion she had when Joel had first met her.
'Why does she still have the wings?' Emilo asked Joel in a whisper.
'They weren't part of the curse,' Joel explained. 'She had them before that.' Jas's eyes were fixed on the floor.
Finder placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. 'Are you all right?' he asked.
Jas looked up into the god's eyes and shook her head. 'The dark stalker is still in me. I can feel it,' she whispered. There was a trace of fear in her voice.
Finder looked surprised for just an instant. 'Hmm,' he said. 'Well, let's try something else, shall we?' He reached out with both hands and laid them on Jas's head. His hands began to glow with blue light, which seemed to seep into the winged woman's body. Very gently Finder's hands touched Jas's forehead, her eyelids, her lips, her ears, and finally her shoulders. The blue light seemed to shine out of Jas's flesh, then faded. Finder stepped back with a smile.
Jas sighed. 'That didn't do it either,' she said. 'It's still inside me.'
Finder stroked his beard thoughtfully. Then he said, 'It's possible, since Iyachtu Xvim had a hand in your curse, that you will need help from a god more powerful than Iyachtu Xvim.'
Jas sighed. 'It's never easy, is it?' she muttered.
'We can pop on down to Brightwater,' Finder suggested, 'and have Tymora take a look at you.'
Jas glared up at Finder.
'Or not,' Finder said.
'I need to think,' the winged woman said. She stood up and strode over to the door. As she hurried up the stairs to the top of the tower, she called out over her shoulder, 'I'll be back later.'
'Should I follow her?' Emilo asked in a whisper.
'Can you fly?' Finder asked.
Emilo looked momentarily confused by the question. Then he understood. 'You mean she's going to fly off to do her thinking?'
'That's what she usually does,' Joel said. 'Is there some reason she doesn't want to see Tymora?' he asked.
'She and Lady Luck have a history,' Finder said. 'It would be better if she told you about it herself.'
'Why?' Joel asked. 'Don't you know it?'
'Better for her,' the god explained. 'It will help her decide what to do in the end. In the meantime, why don't you get some sleep? You kept watch last night while Jas and Emilo slept; you must be dead on your feet. I'll entertain Emilo. We'll call you when Jas gets back.'
The moment Finder mentioned it, Joel became aware of his exhaustion. 'There's a bed calling my name somewhere in this manor. I can hear it,' he joked.
Finder led him to a room furnished with a four-poster bed and heavy curtains covering the windows. Then the god and the kender left him to rest.
Joel stripped off his boots and clothing and slid between the satin quilt and the featherbed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so comfortable. Sleep did not come immediately, though. He spent a long while wondering about what kind of history Jas had with the goddess of good luck. Whatever happened, in the past or the future, the bard was determined to help the winged woman overcome the curse of Iyachtu Xvim.
Operas, like the gods they so often portray, are a mystery to me. They are a mystery wrapped in an enigma swallowed by contradiction and covered by a silken shroud of dark chocolate and best served with hot milk before a nap.
INTERMEZZO
Holly Harrowslough watched anxiously as the petitioners and proxies of Lathander Morninglord bustled about the temple.
She couldn't believe she'd been brought here, but she hadn't dared argue with the messenger. Lathander had sent a deva, a creature of pure goodness made corporeal, to summon her. The deva had resembled a young man with milky white skin and silver hair and, of course, wings of shining white feathers. As he had approached her in the streets of Sigil, several persons had scurried off in fear, while others had stood staring in openmouthed awe.
The deva could have taken the last piece of the Hand of Bane back to Lathander, but the celestial creature had insisted that Holly was to bring it in person. Since then, the paladin had spent hours in fruitless speculation of what purpose her coming here might serve. Now that she had arrived and was possibly only moments from learning the answer, the suspense made her nervous. The honor was more than she'd ever imagined she'd be paid in her lifetime, and she was only sixteen. Morning Glory, Lathander's realm, was a land of perpetual dawn, and Holly found its rosy hues breathtakingly lovely. Yet the realm's beauty did not bring her a perfect peace. She was afraid that the thing she hoped for most would not come to pass. The paladin's first vision from Lathander had awakened in her a desire to devote herself more fully to her god. Her arrival in Sigil and subsequent visits to other planes had opened her eyes to how much wider her world could be. Ever since Bors Sunseed had told her there were beings called proxies, mortals who understood their gods' purposes and desires and worked directly to achieve them, Holly knew that was what she wanted to be. Such a decision was not hers to make, however. Lathander alone could decide her worthiness. Yet Holly wasn't even sure if she'd been summoned to meet the Morninglord.
A freckled redheaded woman surrounded by a radiant aura came out of a room in the back of the temple. She wore the red-hued robes of Lathander's clergy. As she approached she smiled at the young paladin.
'Bright dawning, Holly Harrowslough. Welcome to Morning Glory,' the priestess greeted her.
'Bright dawning, Dawnbringer,' Holly replied. For some reason the paladin felt completely at ease in the priestess's presence. Holly's nervousness subsided. She found herself grinning uncontrollably.
'I am Aurora Brightday,' the priestess introduced herself. 'I've been asked to speak with you before the
