Danica, her friend.
Cadderly smiled warmly, seeming to understand what this private conversation might be about.
'Ye've got many responsibilities,' Catti-brie began.
'My god is not so demanding,' Cadderly said coyly, for he knew that Catti-brie was not speaking of his duties to Deneir.
'I'm meaning the twins,' Catti-brie whispered. 'And Danica.'
Cadderly nodded. No argument there.
Catti-brie paused for a long while, seeming to struggle with the words. How might she put things so as not to insult the old priest?
'Ivan telled me something about yer … condition,' Catti-brie admitted.
'Oh?' Cadderly replied. He wasn't going to make this easy for the young woman.
'The dwarf says ye expected to die as soon as the Spirit Soaring was completed,' Catti-brie explained. 'Says ye looked like ye would, too.'
'I felt like I would,' Cadderly admitted. 'And the visions I had of the cathedral made me believe that to be the truth.'
'That was more than a year ago,' Catti-brie remarked.
Cadderly nodded again.
'The dwarf says ye look like ye're getting younger,' Catti-brie pressed. 'And stronger.'
Cadderly's smile was wide. He understood that Catti-brie was looking out for Danica's interests and her apparently deep friendship with his wife warmed his heart profoundly. 'I cannot be certain of anything,' he said to her, 'but the dwarf's observations seem to be accurate. I am stronger now, much stronger and more energetic than when the cathedral was first completed.' Cadderly reached up and pulled straight a few strands of hair, mostly gray, but with several sandy-colored strands mixed in. 'Brown hairs,' the old priest went on. 'It was white, all white, when first the cathedral was completed.'
'Ye're gettin' younger!' Catti-brie proclaimed with much enthusiasm.
Cadderly blew a long and deep sigh, and then, couldn't help but nod. 'So it would seem,' he admitted.
'I cannot be sure of anything,' he said as if he was afraid of speaking his hopes out loud. 'The only explanation that I can figure is that the visions shown to me-visions of my impending death-and the fatigue I felt at the completion of the Spirit Soaring were a test of my ultimate loyalty to the precepts and commandments of Deneir. I honestly expected to die as soon as the first service in the new cathedral was completed, and indeed, when it was done, a great weariness overcame me. I went to my room-I was practically carried by Danica and Ivan-and went to sleep, expecting to never again open my eyes upon this world. I accepted that.' He paused and closed his eyes, recalling that fateful date.
'But now,' Catti-brie prompted.
'Perhaps Deneir tested me, tested my loyalty,' Cadderly said. 'It might be that I passed that test, and so now my god has chosen to spare me.'
'If he's a goodly god, then the choice is made,' Catti-brie said firmly. 'No good god'd take ye from Danica and the twins, and …'
She paused and bit her lip, not wanting to give away Danica's secret.
'Deneir is a goodly god,' Cadderly replied with equal determination. 'But you speak of the concerns of mortals and we cannot understand Deneir's will or his ways. If Deneir takes me from Danica and my children, then that does not make him anything less than the goodly god that he truly is.'
Catti-brie shook her head and didn't seem convinced.
'There are higher meanings and higher principles than we humans can understand,' Cadderly said to her. 'I hold faith that Deneir will do what is ultimately right by his needs and his designs, which outweigh my own.'
'But ye hope it's true,' Catti-brie said, her tone showing the words to be an accusation. 'Ye hope ye get young again, as young as yer bride, that ye might live out yer life beside her and with yer kids!'
Cadderly laughed aloud. 'True enough,' he finally admitted, and Catti-brie was appeased.
So was Drizzt, listening in with those keen drow ears of his, only half his attention focused upon the task of packing his haversack.
Catti-brie and Cadderly shared a hug, and then the old priest, who seemed not so old, went to Drizzt and offered a sincere handshake. 'Bring to me the artifact, this crystal shard,' Cadderly said. 'Together we will discover a way to rid the world of its evil.
'And bring your father as well,' Cadderly went on. 'I feel that he would enjoy a stay at the Spirit Soaring.'
Drizzt gripped Cadderly's hand all the tighter, thankful for the priest's confidence that he would succeed. 'The artifact will give me … give us,' he corrected, looking to Catti-brie, 'the excuse we need to make the journey back to Carradoon.'
'A journey I must make now,' Cadderly said, and so he left the pair.
They said nothing when they were alone, just went about finishing their preparations for the road.
The road home.
Chapter 19 AND ALL THE WORLD IS THEIRS
Revjak knew that it would come to this, had guessed it as soon as he had realized that Berkthgar did not mean to split off from the Tribe of the Elk to recreate one of the other tribes. So now Revjak stood facing the brutish barbarian within a ring of all their people. Everyone in the tribe knew what was to come, but it had to be done properly, by the rules of ancient traditions.
Berkthgar waited for the gathering to quiet. He could be patient because he knew that the whispers were leaning in his favor, that the arguments for his ascension were gaining momentum. Finally, after what seemed to Revjak to be many minutes, the crowd went silent.
Berkthgar lifted his arms high to the sky, his hands reaching wide. Behind him, strapped diagonally across his back, loomed Bankenfuere, his huge flamberge. 'I claim the Right of Challenge,' the huge barbarian declared.
A chorus of cheers rose up, not a strong as Berkthgar would have liked, but showing that he had quite a bit of support.
'By what birthright do you make such a claim?' Revjak responded properly.
'Not by blood,' Berkthgar promptly answered, 'but by deed!' Again came the cheers from the younger man's supporters.
Revjak shook his head. 'There is no reason, if blood does not demand a challenge,' he protested, and his supporters, though not as vocal as Berkthgar's, gave their own burst of cheering. 'I have led in peace and in strength,' Revjak finished firmly, a claim that was all too true.
'As have I!' Berkthgar was quick to interrupt. 'In Settlestone, so far from our home. I have brought our people through war and peace, and have led the march all the way back to Icewind Dale, our home!'
'Where Revjak is King of the Tribe of the Elk,' the older man put in without hesitation.
'By what birthright?' Berkthgar demanded.
Revjak had a problem here, and he knew it.
'What birthright does Revjak, son of Jorn the Red, who was not a king, claim?' Berkthgar asked slyly.
Revjak had no answer.
'The position was given to you,' Berkthgar went on, telling a tale that was nothing new to his people, but from a slightly different perspective than they normally heard. 'It was handed to you, through no challenge and no right, by Wulfgar, son of Beornegar.'
Kierstaad watched it all from the sidelines. At that moment, the young man came to understand the real reason why Berkthgar had launched a campaign to discredit Wulfgar. If the legend of Wulfgar still loomed larger than life to the barbarians, then his father's claim as king would be strong indeed. But with Wulfgar somewhat discredited …
'Who rightly claimed the kingship from Heafstaag, who was by birthright, rightly king,' Revjak reasoned.
