several temples and shrines on the eastern edge of town. After several minutes he stopped in front of a large, new structure, which Gerard thought looked vaguely familiar. Stone steps led up to a porch where six marble columns flanked the great double doors of an entryway. The pitched roof of the main structure was pierced by a large, domed tower in the center of the building, while three smaller domed towers rose one on each side of the main building and one at the rear. The building was evidently in the final stages of construction, for scaffolding still stood in several places, giving the army of workmen access to the walls. Men on the scaffolding were shouting and calling for materials, which others on the ground hurried to provide. Several men were dressing blocks of stone, their chisels ringing as they tapped expertly with wooden mallets. A group of laborers mixed mortar to cement the stones in place.
'That's the new temple,' Palin said. 'Recognize it?'
'Of course, it bears a distinct resemblance to the Temple of Mishakal in Xak Tsaroth!' Gerard exclaimed. 'I've read descriptions of the ruins.' He turned to Palin. 'This is built to the same plans?'
'Only smaller,' Palin said, nodding again.
Gerard pursed his lips, lowering his voice. 'Look, I'll do my best, Palin…'
'Of course,' Palin said a little too heartily, clapping him on the shoulder. 'Of course.'
Once the temple was dedicated, Gerard would be off to… well, he'd be on his way somewhere else. Until then, but only until then, he would do his best to be sheriff of Solace.
CHAPTER 5
Gerard strolled along the bridge-walks, accompanied by Vercleese. The walkways were more crowded than ever as people poured out into the fresh air and sunshine, and frequently Gerard had to turn his shoulders in order to edge past groups headed in the other direction. Down on the street, drivers of carts and wagons shouted at passersby to move out of the way so they could get through. Traffic remained snarled, though few people seemed to care, so festive was the overall mood.
Even Gerard found it impossible to resist the gaiety in the air. Vercleese greeted people as they passed. 'Good morning, Master and Mistress Tucker,' Vercleese said to one couple, lowering his voice to tell Gerard as the pair smiled and moved past, 'Bartholomew Tucker is the leading wine merchant in town, and is said to have his eye on running for town council when the opportunity arises. He'd be a good man for the post if he gets elected.' The grizzled knight nodded to an elegantly dressed, middle-aged woman.
'Lady Drebble,' he said. She barely acknowledged the greeting. When they were safely out of earshot, Vercleese informed Gerard, 'Marguerite Drebble is a relative newcomer in town, a widow who claims the right to the title of Lady, although no one seems to know anything about her family connections. Still, we mostly humor her, as she seems harmless enough. That boy of hers, on the other hand.' Vercleese rolled his eyes. 'Nyland Drebble hasn't got the sense the gods gave a kender.'
Often, the two stopped for more formal introductions, as Gerard was introduced to some of the citizens he'd be protecting. 'Ah, Brynn,' Vercleese boomed at one tall, extremely thin man with a dreamy air about him and a face dusted with fine white flour. 'How's the bread business?'
The man pulled himself from whatever reverie gripped him and smiled wanly. 'Rising, Sir Vercleese, always rising.'
Vercleese laughed at what had obviously become a standard joke between them. It was probably the bread from Brynn's bakery that Gerard had smelled from his room earlier.
Vercleese indicated Gerard. 'Brynn Ragulf here is our leading local baker,' the deputy said for Gerard's benefit. 'He's descended from a long line of bakers. Isn't that right, Brynn?'
The baker's smile took on a more brittle, stretched appearance. 'Nobody knows dough like a Ragulf.' But oddly, he didn't sound happy about the boast.
'Brynn's a good man,' Vercleese whispered to Gerard when they were on their way again, 'but he doesn't like being a baker. Hates it, in fact. Loathes bread, you see.
He thinks it's a deep, dark secret nobody knows about him, though everyone in town's well aware of it. Just don't ever get him onto the subject of adventure; he'll talk your arm off. He's a real arm-chair adventurer.' Vercleese grinned wickedly, glancing at his stump of an arm. 'Take it from me. That man dreams night and day of traveling to exotic places and doing bold things. He's especially keen on a seafaring life, although he's never so much as seen a ship.' The knight shuddered, apparently recollecting his own recent high seas trip. 'He doesn't know how lucky he is.
'Brynn's wife, on the other hand, is a stoic, practical woman who knows little of his dreaming and cares even less. She just shakes her head over his constant state of distraction, which isn't good for business-he can forget an entire bread order if she doesn't remind him-and sees to the practical running of the shop. When she is laid up in childbirth-a frequent state, as Brynn seems as fertile as the yeast he employs, fathering six children so far and another one 'in the oven,' as he will tell you with some dismay-the bookkeeping goes to the dogs, and everyone in town knows not to count on getting any of their orders right. So the whole of Solace's bread-eating routine is geared around Molly Ragulf's pregnancies!'
As they walked, Gerard noticed that everyone seemed to know Vercleese, and most clearly liked him. Just appearing in the knight's company recommended him to citizens.
'Come on, there's someone else I think you should meet,' Vercleese said, heading down one of the stairways to ground level. 'This one's a bit of an enigma around town, as no one seems to know just who he is or where he came from.' The knight led Gerard to the smithy in the center of town, where a brawny man scowled as he pounded a red-hot coulter into shape, his hammer blows falling heavily. 'Torren, I'd like you to meet Gerard uth Mondar, our new sheriff,' Vercleese announced between blows. 'Gerard, this is Torren Soljack.'
The smith glared at Gerard with fierce, squinting eyes. 'The new sheriff, huh?'
Those eyes were like a pair of furnaces, Gerard thought, their fires barely banked behind drooping lids. Gerard forced a smile. 'That's right, at least temporarily.'
'Just for a while?'
'Until the temple dedication, when the mayor will have had time to seek a more permanent replacement. As you know, the previous sheriff was recently, uh, murdered.'
Gerard couldn't be certain, but it looked as though the fiery intensity of the smith's gaze flared a little at this statement. 'Don't imagine you'll have much to do before the dedication.'
'Except we intend to find Sheriff Joyner's murderer,' Vercleese said. 'He was a friend of mine, and a loyal friend of Solace's, too. That's a double debt to be repaid.'
'Debt, yes,' Torren muttered darkly and resumed hammering. 'By all means, justice must be rendered.'
Gerard wandered about the shop, stopping to look at a half dozen unfinished swords leaning against a wall. He liked the man's handiwork. 'I could use a good sword,' he said to Torren, picking one up and testing the feel of it. 'How long would it take to finish this?'
'Come back in a couple of days,' Torren growled without looking up. 'I can have it for you then.'
Gerard nodded, and he and Vercleese left the smithy. 'That man's hiding something,' Gerard said in a low voice as they walked away.
'Yes, but what?' Vercleese agreed. 'He's an angry, frustrated man whose every hammer blow is a declaration of some inner turbulence. And you should see him eat!' The old knight grimaced. 'He gulps his food as if using it to stuff something terrible back down inside him. He's a good smith, but he intimidates most people, and they don't come to his shop with cracked or broken implements to be repaired until absolutely necessary. No one has learned what plagues the man so.'
Vercleese led Gerard across the Town Square. 'Where are we headed now?' Gerard asked.
'There's someone else you should meet. Ah, here we go,' he said as they reached another stairway into a stately vallenwood. The foot of these stairs, Gerard noticed, was flanked by two members of the town guard, obviously on duty. They nodded briefly to acknowledge Vercleese but only stared at Gerard, remaining at attention. Vercleese started up the stairs and Gerard followed. At the top of the stairway was a functional-looking building with a distinctly military flavor. Vercleese ushered Gerard inside, where a tall, lanky man of middle years sat at a desk.
