The young man shook his head and pointed to Midnight.
'She may be called back home at any moment, Morgan. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for her.'
Morgan looked up at the sky and sighed again.
'Very well. Go on,' Morgan grumbled then motioned for his guards to let Midnight and her guide pass.
Midnight said nothing as she rode with Quillian to the bell tower nearly a half-mile in the distance. They passed a number of hastily erected barracks and were forced to detour twice to avoid groups of soldiers in the middle of training exercises. Soon, however, the Tower of Aylen Attricus stood before them.
The tower was a gray stone obelisk. Within the monument lay a winding stairway that led to a bright, silver bell. The bell itself stood exposed to the cool afternoon air through large windows on each side. Midnight felt an odd tingling sensation in her back as she gazed at the tower and prepared to dismount. The tingling felt like a thousand fingers capped with razor-sharp nails lightly tapping the mage's back. Midnight realized what was happening just as she got off the horse and her feet touched the ground.
'Look out!' Midnight yelled and threw the travel bag from her shoulder. Quillian leaped to the ground. The bag was glowing with a bright amber light as it landed twenty feet from the entrance to the tower. For an instant the bag seemed to be on fire, and then the sphere of detection exploded soundlessly. The tough canvas sack was shredded, and the stone doorway to the tower was seared black from the noiseless explosion.
Midnight walked over to Quillian. The boy was sitting up, but he scampered away from the raven-haired mage as she extended her hand.
'You didn't tell me you were one of them!' he cried and backed a little farther from Midnight.
'One of who?' Midnight asked irritably.
'You're a mage! Your stinking art could have gotten us both killed!' Quillian yelled and rose to his feet. 'I knew I shouldn't have trusted you!'
The mage turned away from the dark-haired boy and looked at the tower. I can afford to lose a guide, she thought, but not the Tablet of Fate… and from the reaction of the sphere, it just might be nearby!
But the sphere was meant to explode when it came within range of any object of sufficient magical power, the mage recalled bitterly. It might have exploded because of the damned bell. She moved toward the doorway and Quillian cried out, 'We have to leave! Someone might think you're trying to blow up the bell!'
'You leave,' Midnight hissed without turning around. 'I have to see what's inside the tower.'
Entering the tower, Midnight was greeted by absolute silence. The sounds of the garrisons and the training exercises going on nearby, even the noise of the wind from the Dragon Reach, suddenly vanished. The mage looked through the door and could see Quillian moving his lips, shouting a warning, but she couldn't hear his voice. Turning from the boy, Midnight examined the interior of the tower and found it completely bare except for the winding stairway that led to the bell. She climbed to the top of the tower.
At the head of the perfectly carved, spotless stone steps, the mage gazed at the inscription on the bell. Sunlar, Midnight's teacher in Deepingdale, had insisted that Midnight make a study of ancient languages. The message was a confusing jumble of many tongues, but it reminded the magic-user of puzzles Sunlar had created for her years ago. And then, as she stared at the strange letters and words, a blue-white glow erupted from the inscription, and Midnight found she could decipher it quite easily. It read:
This bell was created to throw a shield of impenetrable mystical force over the city I helped to found. To protect my fairest creation from great harm.
Once, my beloved ally, the sorceress Cytheria, rang the bell and saved the city from the dire magics of a wizard I battled nearby. It took great courage to stay and protect our home, though she would have preferred to fight by my side. Now, only by the hand of a woman with power and heart such as my wife had, and only in the greatest time of need, will this bell ever sound again.
The mage pondered the message as she climbed down the Steps and walked out of the tower. The sounds of the day rushed to her ears the moment she walked through the doorway. Quillian was upon his horse, and he had led Midnight's mount to the tower.
'I put in a long day today and I expect to get paid,' the dark-haired boy growled. 'Now let's get out of here before we're caught.'
'Lead on,' Midnight said flatly as she mounted.
The mage and her guide rode back to the checkpoint where Morgan was waiting. He waved them through without a word, and the pair rode for over an hour before either spoke.
'Don't worry about me keeping quiet,' Quillian grumbled without looking at Midnight. 'I don't want to be associated with mages if I can avoid it.' After a moment, he added, 'I sense there are some hard times in your future, milady. Try not to drag any innocent bystanders down with you.'
'I'll keep it in mind,' Midnight told him, angry to be on the receiving end of a lecture from the boy. Although there was less than a decade between Quillian and the mage, she felt as if she had aged a hundred years since she called out to Mystra on Calantar's Way two months before. She had seen far too much in the last few weeks to be scolded by a child who had probably never been more than a hundred miles from Tantras in his entire life.
The riders came to the Lazy Moon Inn, and Midnight paid the amount that Quillian was due, along with a bonus for the hazards she had not warned him about in advance. The dark-haired boy rode away in silence, and Midnight entered the inn.
Once inside the room that she and Kelemvor shared, Midnight looked for messages from either of her allies. The cleric had not picked up her letter, but there was a message signed by a priest of Torm next to the door. It was a short note, meant simply to assure Midnight and Kelemvor that all was well with their friend.
The fighter, on the other hand, had been in the room, recently from the looks of things, and had taken the letter Midnight had left for him. In return, he left a scrap of paper with only three words hastily scrawled upon it.
Cyric is alive.
The parchment fell from Midnight's trembling hands and sailed to the floor, where it lay as the mage ran from the inn, her heart thundering with fear.
XIII
Outside the Lazy Moon Inn, Kelemvor stood face to face with Midnight as the heroes said their farewells. The mage kissed the green-eyed fighter for the fifth and final time then brushed the hair from his face. Kelemvor stared into her dark and beautiful eyes, and felt a chill.
I couldn't stand to lose her again, the fighter thought, then said, 'Perhaps we should stay together after all. I don't like the idea of you risking your life — '
The mage placed her fingers to Kelemvor's lips then smiled gently. 'We're all at risk. The best chance we have is to get what we came for and move on quickly,' she told her lover. 'You know that we can cover more ground and accomplish our task faster this way.'
Kelemvor reached up and covered Midnight's hand with his own. 'Aye,' he grumbled as he kissed her fingers. 'Be careful.'
Midnight made a sarcastic comment and patted the fighter's face. Kelemvor watched as the mage broke from him, said goodbye to the cleric, and walked away.
Kelemvor turned to Adon. 'Until we meet again,' he said to the scarred cleric, though he was still watching Midnight as she walked down the street. 'Adon?'
No response. Kelemvor turned and saw the cleric across the street, already losing himself in the crowd. The fighter shrugged and headed toward the docks. Kelemvor simply studied the area of the waterfront for the first few hours after he left the Lazy Moon Inn and became familiar with a few of the larger merchant ships that were currently docked in Tantras.
