Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [127]
The next day, Phlan started to change.
True, there was little enough different to meet the eye. The streets were still dark and sullen, littered with refuse, the buildings lining them dilapidated and crumbling. But as Kern walked through the city, here and there he noticed small things that gave him cause for hope. For the first time in recent memory, the tall smokestacks looming over the city no longer belched forth black, sulfurous smoke. A steady breeze from the Moonsea was already clearing the gloomy cloud hanging over Phlan.
People had been trickling back into the city these last days. Most of them seemed a bit dazed, as if they had just woken from a dark nightmare. They stared at the city in dismay, as if only truly seeing it for the first time. Slowly, they began to rebuild their lives.
Kern passed an old woman planting lily bulbs in a flower bed in front of her clapboard hovel. A group of raggedly clad children ran by, laughing merrily. He strolled past a tavern and realized it was the one he had passed with Tarl and Listle the day they had gone to the temple to learn the answer to Bane's riddle. Odd, he thought, that it seemed so long ago now. He watched as the innkeep busily painted over the sign that had once read "The Bloated Corpse." Now it read "The Golden Feather," a more auspicious name to Kern's mind. A pretty young woman threw open the tavern's shuttered windows, whistling a cheerful tune.
Kern shook his head. Already the grip of the dark gods was loosening. It would be a long time until Phlan was truly healed, he knew, perhaps years. But with the Hammer of Tyr returned to its rightful place, the healing had begun. Nor would the clerics of Tyr stand idle. Already Anton and Tarl were concocting plans to help restore the city.
Kern found his traveling companions in the main room of Denlor's Tower. Tarl was upstairs with Shal. Though the sorceress seemed all but recovered, Tarl had forbidden her from working until he was certain she was fully rejuvenated.
"If I don't start doing some magic soon, I'm liable to forget how to cast a spell altogether!" she had complained, but Tarl had not been swayed, and neither Kern nor Listle were about to argue with the brawny, white-haired cleric.
Kern was dismayed but not surprised to see Daile packing her belongings.
"It's time I returned to the Valley of the Falls," she explained, slinging her magical bow over her shoulder. She smiled wryly. "If I stay away too long, the orcs will start thinking they own the place."
He laughed and hugged her tightly.
"Well, we can't have that," Kern told her. "After all, what would Ren think?"
"Keep him out of trouble, Listle," Daile told the elf as if Kern were not listening, a habit she and the elf had which annoyed him to no end.
The elf snorted, as if this was a good joke. "You wrangle your orcs, Daile. Leave Kern to me."
Her words sounded vaguely ominous, but Kern wasn't quite certain why.
Daile left the tower, promising to visit soon. But when Kern glanced out the window, he noticed that the young ranger had paused to talk to Gamaliel. Evaine's familiar was in his human form. The two spoke together for a moment, and Daile gripped the barbarian's hand tightly. Then she was gone. Kern didn't know what had passed between them, but Gamaliel stood in the courtyard until dusk began to gather, gazing off to where Daile had vanished.
A voice spoke behind him.
"I just talked to Brookwine and Winebrook. Primul is moving on."
Startled, Kern turned to see Listle step out of a wall, her ruby pendant flashing.
"Won't you ever get tired of that trick?" he asked in a perturbed voice.
She thought about it for a moment. "Probably not," she decided.
Suddenly her words struck him. "What did you mean, Primul is 'moving on'?"
Listle sighed. "He and the two mages are going to find a new hiding place. Sifahir's minion came too close for comfort. It's only a matter of time until another one of his servants discovers the grove in the forest. Primul wants to make certain