him, steadying his balance with her reassuring hand.
Dressing took three times longer than it should have, but eventually with a great deal of help from Kaylinn, Duvan was clad in simple, black, linen pants and a tunic cinched at the waist with a white rope.
“Thank vou. Kavlinn.” he said. “Lead on.”
Duvan slipped on the sandals they had laid out for him and walked out of the room, leaning on Kaylinn when he needed it.
A special funeral pyre had been built in the center of the courtyard, and Slanya’s body lay on it. Draped over her body was cloth embroidered with Kelemvor’s scale. About thirty clerics and monks had gathered to pay their respects.
“Sister Slanya had no family,” Kaylinn said, raising her voice to address the entire group. “We were her family, and she was family to us.
“Of all the many sisters I have had, Slanya was my favorite. Resolute and ethical, she held to her code. She believed in order and in doing the right thing, despite the consequences.
“I shall miss her.”
Duvan stopped listening. He too would miss her. He too loved her.
Since Talfani had died, nobody had reached his heart the way Slanya had. It hurt so much. Worse than a penetrating wound that would not stop bleeding, the agony of loss was an injury that magic could not heal.
Several others spoke, but Duvan did not hear them. He reflected on his brief experiences with Slanya. He’d only known her a few days, but in that time she’d taught him to care again. She’d saved him from a life of cynical detachment and reckless self-pity. She’d rescued him from an eternity of boredom as a brick in the wall of Kelemvor’s city.
He’d hated her. He’d loved her. And now she was gone, and he would miss her so.
As he looked on, Kaylinn put a torch to the pyre. The kindling caught fire and soon was ablaze in flames licking the sky above the temple complex. Through the veil of heat and light, Duvan watched as Slanya’s corpse burned away.
A small group of monks sang a lament, the tune haunting against the rumble of the fire. The song seemed to reach into his heart and touch the most painful places, reminding him of the beauty and vivaciousness of his lost friend, of his lost sister. Of all his losses.
Duvan knew of only one way to make the pain in his chest stop hurting. Stop living, and the pain would cease. But that was not an option for him. He wanted to live, pain or no pain. He would accept Tyrangal’s invitation. Helping her was something he could believe in. Something that Slanya would approve of.
Duvan took a deep breath. Having a goala purpose filled his aching void. The pain was still there, the loss still acute. But he could go on. He could let her go, let both Slanya and Talfani go.
“Good-bye, my friend,” he whispered, staring into the flames. “May you find peace and contentment on your next journey.” Tears streamed down his cheeks as he watched her body burn.
“Good-bye.”
