Midnight!
But Adon did not speak, even as Lhaeo was called to testify. The young man who stood before the court had brown hair and gentle green eyes. His back held straight, his concentration directed fully toward Storm Silverhand, Lhaeo stood with an air of royalty, a far cry from the simpering fop most denizens of the dale were familiar with. 'I am Elminster's scribe,' Lhaeo said. His voice was firm.
'When Midnight and Adon first arrived at Elminster's tower, they were in the company of Hawksguard, the acting captain of the guard.' Lhaeo looked out into the audience. 'The fighters, Kelemvor and Cyric, were also with them.'
'Can you describe anything unusual in the exchange between Elminster and the magic-user, Midnight?' Storm asked.
Lhaeo swallowed. 'Elminster indicated that this was not his first encounter with Midnight. He said something about the Stonelands.'
'Where a strange disturbance was seen in the skies just days before the strangers arrived in Shadowdale,' Storm pointed out. 'Do you know anything about that?'
Lhaeo looked down into Midnight's eyes and saw the quiet desperation of the magic-user. Memories of Elminster teleporting from his tower in haste, then returning after nightfall, muttering something about Geryon's Death Spell, ran through the scribe's mind.
'Not that I recall,' Lhaeo said, and Midnight's eyes closed slowly in thanks. 'I wish to go on record that I do not believe Elminster is dead.'
There were startled cries of outrage from the onlookers.
'We all know how close you were to the sage, Lhaeo,' Storm said sympathetically. 'I would not think it an exaggeration to say that he was like a father to you.' Storm watched as Lhaeo stiffened. 'But don't let that overwhelm your reason.'
Storm bent over and picked up the tattered fragments of Elminster's robe and the pages from the ancient spellbooks. 'These are Elminster's, are they not?' Lhaeo nodded slowly. 'It is rather unlikely that your master would let artifacts such as these books be destroyed. And it is, in fact, impossible that he would allow the Temple of Lathander to be destroyed. If he were alive, surely he would have kept his promise to the clerics.'
The bard paused for a moment before she spoke again. 'What business did Midnight have with Elminster?'
'She claimed that she carried the final words of the goddess Mystra, as well as a symbol of the goddess's trust.'
'Then she is a heretic as well as a killer!' Storm cried, and the crowd exploded.
'Enough!' Mourngrym shouted, and the spectators slowly grew quiet once more. 'Control yourself, Storm, or I will be forced to find a replacement for you in these proceedings!'
There was silence from the crowd.
'You were not present at the Temple of Lathander?' Storm asked when she turned back to the scribe.
'No,' Lhaeo said softly. 'Elminster had sent me to contact the Knights of Myth Drannor. Magical communication with the East had been blocked. I was armed with Elminster's wards and traveled at night.'
'You left the same day the strangers arrived,' Storm stated sharply.
'That is true.' Lhaeo said.
'Was it possible that Elminster did not trust the strangers and was attempting to protect you from them?' Storm asked.
Lhaeo hesitated for a moment, Storm's words striking him like a blow. 'I don't think so,' the scribe said slowly. 'No, that would not have been like him.'
'Yet you rarely accompanied him on his many ventures throughout the Realms. Why was that?'
Drawing a sharp breath, the scribe looked away from the bard. 'I don't know,' he said softly.
'I have nothing further to ask.' Storm turned away from the glaring green eyes of the scribe. Thurbal gripped the handle of his walking stick, his fingers caressing the dragon skull of the handle. Perspiration trickled down his face as he spoke.
'Why did Elminster allow Midnight and Adon to stay at his tower?' Thurbal said.
'Elminster trusted them and felt they would be of valuable assistance in the Battle of Shadowdale,' Lhaeo said.
'Elminster told you this?' Thurbal asked.
'Aye, and he allowed Midnight to assist him in the casting of many spells as the cleric researched mystical tomes.'
'Did he seem frightened or suspicious of Midnight and Adon in any way?' Thurbal inquired.
'No,' Lhaeo said. 'Not at all. Quite the opposite.'
Biting his lip, Thurbal asked his next question. 'Is the goddess Mystra dead?'
Storm rose up to shout in protest, but Mourngrym silenced her and ordered the scribe to answer the question.
'According to Elminster, a horrible fate befell the goddess. Whether or not she is dead, I cannot say.' Lhaeo sighed and hung his head.
'When Midnight arrived with her claims of a message from the goddess, Elminster did not laugh or send her away,' Thurbal stated flatly. 'He was convinced of her integrity and dedication to the Realms.' Both Thurbal and the scribe remained silent for a moment.
'If you have nothing else to ask, Thurbal, I think we've heard enough from this witness,' Mourngrym said.
Lhaeo quietly left the stand and returned to his seat. Storm moved forward and called a burly guardsman with hazel eyes named Irak Dontaele.
'Your patrol was on duty the night of the attack against the Temple of Tymora. You were the first to enter the temple and discover the bodies of the worshipers and the desecration of the temple itself,' Storm said.
'No,' Irak growled. 'Not true.' Quickly he rushed past the other guards, grabbed Adon by his robes, and lifted the cleric up off his knees. 'This one was there before any of us!'
'Put him down!' Mourngrym said, and the crossbows of the guards who stood behind the prisoners were suddenly leveled at the witness. Adon's dull eyes swam in their sockets as he was lowered reluctantly to the ground. 'What is the meaning of this, Storm? Are you trying to show some connection between the attacks on the two temples?'
'There's the connection!' Storm cried, pointing at Adon. 'This man was present both times. They say he is a cleric of Sune, the Goddess of Beauty, yet look at his face. Even without the ugliness of his scar, he is hardly what one would expect. I submit that Adon of Sune and Midnight of Deepingdale are allies of the Black Lord, and their true allegiance is to that evil god and the city of Zhentil Keep. That is why they murdered Elminster!'
A roar erupted from the crowd. 'Kill them!' someone cried.
'Yes!' screamed a woman. 'Death to the servants of Lord Bane!'
Mourngrym struggled to maintain his composure. 'Enough!' he ordered.
'No!' Storm cried, turning to face Lord Mourngrym. 'What names did the adventurers give to the guards when they first arrived in the dale?'
Kelemvor winced. When they had arrived in Shadowdale, they had used a false charter to gain admission to the town. The fighter had been certain that the matter would be forgotten in the chaos caused by Bane's attack.
'They used false names… a stolen charter. If my words are untrue,' Storm shouted, 'why hasn't the cleric said anything in his own defense?' Storm now stood directly over Adon. 'Speak, murderer! Tell us what you've done!'
Adon didn't look up to meet the bard's fiery gaze. He simply looked straight ahead and whimpered. 'Sune,' he said simply, and then he was silent once more.
'Thurbal, have you any witnesses to call?' Mourngrym inquired.
'I call Kelemvor Lyonsbane,' Thurbal said, and the fighter was escorted forward from the crowd. 'You led the eastern defenses near Krag Pool, where Bane's army suffered the greatest number of casualties and the decisive victory against our enemies was won. Yet you entered Shadowdale at the same time as the prisoners, and in their company. Tell us briefly how you know the accused.'
