Amber and Ashes - Margaret Weis [112]
“Your father said that? Really?” Rhys cocked an eye at the kender.
“Well, he would have if he’d thought about it.” Nightshade stopped in the middle of the road to argue the point. “How do we even get to Storm’s Keep, Rhys? I don’t know anything about boats. Do you? Good! Then that’s how we get out of this. We can’t go to Storm’s Keep if we can’t get there. The goddess must see the logic in that—”
“The goddess will send us on the winds of the storm, I suppose. I have only to let her know we’re ready.”
Nightshade rolled his eyes. Atta, seeing her master downcast and unhappy, gave his hand a gentle lick. He stroked her head, rubbed her beneath the jowls, smoothed her ears. She crowded close to him, looking up at him sadly, wishing she could make everything right.
“She’ll miss us,” said Nightshade in a choked voice.
“Yes,” said Rhys quietly, “she will.”
He rested his hand on the kender’s shoulder. “All your life you have worked to save lost spirits, Nightshade. Think of this as something you were born to do—your greatest challenge.”
Nightshade pondered this. “That’s true. I guess I will be saving a soul. But if that’s true for me, Rhys, what about you? What were you born to do?”
“Like all men,” Rhys said simply, “I was born to die.”
Later that morning, outside the Inn of the Last Home, Rhys knelt down in front of Atta and placed his hand on the dog’s head, almost as if he were bestowing a benediction. “You are to be a good girl, Atta, and mind Gerard. He is your new master now. You work for him.”
Atta gazed up at Rhys. She could hear the sorrow in his voice, but she didn’t understand it. She would never understand, never know why he had abandoned her. He stood up. It took him a moment to speak.
“You should take her away now, Sheriff,” he said.
“Come, Atta,” said Gerard, issuing the command Rhys had taught him. “Come with me.”
Atta looked at Rhys. “Go with Gerard, Atta,” said Rhys, and he motioned with his hand, sending the dog away.
Atta looked at him one more time, then, her head and tail drooping, she obeyed. She allowed Gerard to lead her off. He returned, shaking his head.
“I took her back to the Inn. I hope she’ll be all right. Laura offered her some food, but she wouldn’t take it.”
“She’s a sensible animal,” said Rhys. “Give her work to keep her occupied and she’ll soon come around.”
“She’ll get plenty of work what with all the kender we have flocking here to see the fish kill. So you two are off. When do you leave?” Gerard asked.
“Nightshade and I have to pay a visit to the prisoner first,” said Rhys, “and then we’ll be going.”
“The prisoner?” Gerard was astonished. “The crazy woman? You’re going to see her again?”
“I assume she is still there,” Rhys said.
“Oh, yes. I don’t seem to be able to get rid of her. What do you want to see her for, Brother?” Gerard asked with unabashed curiosity.
“She seems to think that I can be of some help to her,” said Rhys.
“And the kender? Is he helping her, too?”
“I’m a cheering influence,” said Nightshade.
“You don’t need to accompany us, Sheriff,” Rhys added. “We just need your permission to enter her cell.”
“I think I’d better come along,” said Gerard. “Just to make sure nothing happens to you. Any of you.”
Rhys and Nightshade exchanged glances.
“We need to speak to her in private,” said Rhys. “The matter is confidential. Spiritual in nature.”
“I didn’t think you were a monk of Majere anymore,” Gerard said, giving Rhys a shrewd look.
“That does not mean that I can no longer assist those who are troubled,” Rhys replied. “Please, Sheriff. Just a few moments with her alone.”
“Very well,” said Gerard. “I don’t see how you can get into too much trouble locked up in a prison cell.”
“A lot he knows,” Nightshade said gloomily.
Inside the prison, Nightshade had to stop to say a word to the kender. Rhys was concerned to hear Nightshade bidding them what appeared to be a final farewell. When he reached into his pouches, prepared to distribute all his worldly wealth—the kender