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By Root 714 0

to call at the castle. Adon felt Corene's warm touch on his arm. “Here's dinner-at last,” she said. The cleric returned his attention to the veranda. A serving girl had just stepped out of the kitchen with a heavy tray in her hands. Her bountiful figure was accentuated by a tightly laced bodice and a billowing skirt just clingy enough to hint at the slender legs beneath. She had skin the color of ginger, with black hair that cascaded over her bare shoulders in silky waves. Her almond-shaped eyes were as brown as topaz and lined with kohl. It was impossible to see the rest of her face. From her cheeks down to her collarbone, the maid's visage was hidden by an unsightly veil. Brushing against the skin of such a beautiful girl, the shroud seemed sorely out of place. It was made of coarse, black wool and suspended from a strand of rough twine. The young woman rested the serving tray on the edge of their table. “I'm Sarafina, Myron's daughter,” she said, placing a goblet of golden wine and a steaming bowl in front of Corene. “Tonight, we have plum wine and lamb stew. I hope you'll enjoy it.” As Sarafina turned to serve Adon, her eyes fell on the left side of his face and remained fixed there. Although the patriarch was a handsome man with a patrician nose and a cleft chin, he often elicited such stares. During the Time of Troubles, when the gods had walked Faerun in the bodies of mortal avatars, his good looks had been taken from him by a zealot. Now a red scar traced a crooked path from his left eye down to his jawline. Adon self-consciously turned his face away so the young woman would not have to look upon his blemish. After placing the patriarch's wine and stew on the table, Sarafina asked, “Is there anything else you'd like?” Adon continued to look away and shook his head without answering. He was not angry with the girl for staring, merely ashamed of his appearance.

“Please, Your Grace,” said Sarafina. “I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. If you could see beneath this veil, you'd know that I'd be the last to mock another's scars.” Adon looked back, touched by the sincerity in her voice. “I thought it unusual for a woman to wear a veil in this part of the world,” he said. “Perhaps you should let me have a look at your affliction. I may be able to heal it.” “I don't think so.” Sarafina wiped sudden tears from her eyes. “Many priests have tried, and each time they've only made matters worse.” “But I'm no ordinary cleric-” “Please don't ask again,” said Sarafina, still looking away. “Can I bring you anything else?” “Some bread would be nice, if you have any,” said Corene. Sarafina nodded. “My mother has just taken a few loaves out of the oven. I'll bring you some as soon as it's cool enough to cut.” As the young woman returned to the kitchen, Adon shook his head in frustration. “Why are these people so reluctant to accept our help?” “You can't blame the girl for being cautious,” said Corene, pointing at the crooked blemish marring Adon's good looks. “Why should she think you can mend her face when you haven't bothered to heal your own?” “Our travels together have made you too familiar,” Adon snapped. “You'd do well to remember who's the novice and who's the patriarch.” The cleric's threat did not intimidate the young woman. “So why haven't you mended it?” she pressed. “Don't you think I've tried?” Adon retorted. “I've been praying to Midnight-er, Mystra-since she became the Goddess of Magic.” “And she hasn't answered?” “Not in this matter,” Adon said, sipping the powerful wine Sarafina had placed in front of him. “I can't believe Our Lady of Mysteries would deny such a thing to someone she once called friend, someone who fought beside her during the Time of Troubles.” “That was before she became a goddess,” said Adon, then paused. “Now that she's an immortal, I suppose she must behave as one. She doesn't even like me to call her Midnight. That's the name of my avatar,' she says. The Midnight you knew exists only as a memory.' ” “She calls herself Mystra to honor the goddess of magic before her,” Corene noted dogmatically.