I am anything but a hero.'
'Let me be the judge of that, darling one,' she said and caressed the side of his face as if the scar did not exist. Her hand trailed down across his neck, chest, and arm, until she took his hand in hers and asked him to tell his tale to her.
Reluctantly, Adon told the story of his journey from Arabel again, with little emotion in his voice. He told her everything, except for the secrets of the gods he'd learned. Those he saved for himself to ponder.
'You are a hero,' she said, and kissed him full on the lips. 'Your faith in the face of such adversity should be known, and held as an inspiration.'
A soldier nearby laughed, and Adon was sure that he was the subject of the joke. He pulled away from the girl and slammed a few gold pieces to the bar. 'I did not come here to be mocked!' he said in a rage.
'I did not — '
But Adon was gone, making his way through the adventurers and soldiers who crowded the inn. He reached the street and wandered almost a block before he fell against the wall of a tiny shop. There was a metal sign on the door with a name engraved upon it, and the moonlight allowed Adon to see his reflection in the metal. For an instant, the scar seemed barely noticeable. But as he raised his fingers to the ragged flesh, he saw his image distort, his face elongating so that the scar appeared to be even worse than it really was. Turning away from the sign, Adon cursed his weary eyes for betraying him.
As he walked through town, Adon thought of the woman, Renee, and her fiery hair that was so like Sune's. His treatment of the woman had been shameful. He knew he must apologize. On the way back to the inn a patrol stopped him, then let him go. 'I remember the scar,' one of them said.
Adon's spirits fell. He reached the Old Skull Inn, and after a few minutes of wandering the taproom, he sat back on his original stool and motioned for the attentions of Jhaele Silvermane. He related the story of the red- haired woman named Renee, the serving wench, and Jhaele merely nodded toward a darkened corner of the room.
Renee was there, sitting close to another man. The enticing gestures she made toward him were similar to those she had used on Adon. She looked up, saw Adon staring, then looked away.
'She must have smelled the gold on you,' Jhaele said, and Adon suddenly understood Renee's true purpose in the bar. Moments later, he was on the street once more, his anger threatening to consume him. In the distance he saw the spires of a temple, and he made his way to it, passing the same patrol again.
The healers of the temple, he thought. Perhaps their potions would be powerful enough to remove the scar.
Tymora's temple in Shadowdale was far different from her temple in Arabel. Adon passed between a mighty set of pillars that burned with small watchfires set atop them. The vast double doors of the temple had been left unattended, and a large, polished gong lay on its side before the doors. Adon moved to the doors themselves when a voice rang out of the darkness behind him.
'You there!'
Adon turned and faced the same patrol he had spoken to outside the Old Skull.
'Something is amiss,' Adon called. 'The temple is silent, and the guard is nowhere to be found.'
The riders left their mounts. There were four men, and their armor had been dulled to allow them the full cover of the night.
'Move aside,' a burly man said as he brushed past Adon. The soldier pulled the heavy doors apart and turned his face away as the stench of death welled out of the temple.
Adon took a torn silk handkerchief and placed it before his face as he walked into the temple with one of the guards. Then the two men surveyed the bloody scene before them.
There were almost a dozen people in the temple, and all of them had been savagely murdered. The main altar had been overturned, and the symbol of Bane had been painted upon the walls with the blood of the murdered clerics. By the fires that still raged in the braziers and the smell that lingered in the temple, Adon knew the desecration had not taken place more than an hour earlier.
No children, Adon noted thankfully. The guard beside Adon became ill, and fell to his knees. When he rose, he found the young cleric moving through the rows of benches and the tiers of the platformed altar. Adon was removing the dead from the horrible positions their attackers had left them in, and was laying them out upon the floor. Then he tore the silk curtains from behind the altar and covered the bodies as best he could. The guard moved to his side, knees trembling. There was movement from without, then a cry as the other guards saw the horrors within the temple.
'There may be others,' Adon warned as he pointed at the stairway leading into the heart of the temple.
'Alive?' the guard said. 'Others… alive?'
The cleric said nothing, somehow sensing what they would find. The one thing he was certain they would not find were the precious healing potions he had been told about.
Adon remained in the temple even after the stench became unbearable for the others. He attempted to say a prayer for the dead, but the words would not come.
Kelemvor turned from the window. He had checked Midnight's room and found that she had not yet returned from Elminster's house. He went back to his own room, but he could not sleep. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of riding to Elminster's tower and confronting Midnight, but he knew that his efforts would be wasted.
Then, as he was once again watching out the window of the tower, he saw the mage approaching. The fighter watched as she passed the guards and entered the Twisted Tower. A few moments later, there was a knock at his door. Kelemvor sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hands over his face.
'Kel?'
'Aye,' he called. 'Enter.'
Midnight entered the room and closed the door. 'Shall I light a lantern?' she said.
'You forget what I am,' Kelemvor said. 'By the moonlight your features are as plain as if I beheld them at highsun.'
'I forget nothing,' she said.
Midnight was wearing a long, flowing cape, a more than adequate replacement for the one she had lost. Tiny flames leaped across the surface of the pendant. Kelemvor was surprised to see that she had taken it back, but he did not bother to question her about it.
Midnight removed the cape, then stood before the fighter. 'I think we should talk,' she said.
Kelemvor nodded slowly. 'Aye. What about?'
Midnight ran her hands through her long hair. 'If you're tired…'
Kelemvor rose to his feet. 'I am tired, Ariel.'
'Don't call me that.'
Kelemvor flinched. 'Midnight,' he said and let out a deep sigh. 'I assumed we would leave this place together. You would deliver the warning Mystra entrusted you with, then we would put this business behind us and be free for once!'
Midnight laughed a small, cruel laugh. 'Free? What do either of us know of freedom, Kel? Your entire life has been ruled by a curse you can do nothing about, and I've been played for a fool by the very gods!'
She turned away from him and leaned against a dresser. 'I can't walk away from this, Kel. I have a responsibility.'
Kelemvor moved forward and turned her around to face him. He held her roughly by the shoulders. 'A responsibility to whom? To strangers who would spit in your face even as you lay down your life to save them?'
'To the Realms, Kelemvor! My responsibility is to the Realms!'
Kelemvor released her. 'Then we have little to discuss, it seems.'
Midnight picked up the cloak. 'It's more than just the curse with you, isn't it? Everything and everyone has their price. Your conditions are too much for me to bear, Kel. I can't give myself to someone who isn't willing to do the same for me.'
'What are you talking about? Have I run from this place? Have I run from you? On the morrow we begin preparations for war. There's a good chance I won't see you again until this battle is over. If we survive, that is.'
