Temple Hill - Drew Karpyshyn [15]
He should have attacked her, should have launched himself and snapped her fragile neck with his bare hands for her hypocrisy-or been blasted into oblivion by the power of Lathander when Hathala called down the wrath of her god to protect her, but Corin's spirit was no longer that of a White Shield, or even a warrior. He had given Lathander's church everything-his money, his service, his pride, his honor. All that remained was a hollow shell, incapable of action, and they still would not help him.
Corin left the church that night, quietly gathering his meager belongings. Hathala gave him a pittance of coins to take with him-wages for his months of service, she had explained. Corin was too bitter and broken to even refuse her charity.
Now, a year later-nearly two years after the loss of his hand-Corin found himself once again in the shadow of Temple Hill and the reviled church built atop it.
Corin spat on the ground to try and cleanse his mouth of the foul bile conjured up by the sight of the Tower of the Morn. Soon he could also discern the outline of the House of Coins… Waukeen's Temple, and the only other building on Temple Hill.
"Your friend, the cleric," Corin asked, breaking the silence, "is he a servant of the Dawnbringer? I've had enough of Lathander's kind."
Lhasha, her attention focused on watching the streets for possible pursuers, shook her head.
"Is he one of Waukeen's priests?" Corin asked. "A stubborn believer in a dead god?"
"No," Lhasha replied, "he worships Gond. He's a priest in the House of Hands."
Corin laughed softly, and rubbed his stump. "The House of Hands," he whispered to himself, "how fitting."
The church of Gond Wonderbringer wasn't actually on Temple Hill, but stood just at its foot on the western face of the mount. Corin had passed it many times on his repeated journeys up the hill, but had rarely given it a second thought. Compared to Lathander, and even Wau-keen before she was slain in the Time of Troubles, Gond was a minor power. The god of inventors, blacksmiths and carpenters… hardly the deity Corin would have chosen to heal his grievous injury.
Lhasha never hesitated at the doors to Gond's church, but boldly walked right through. Corin paused. He was sick of churches, sick of getting his hopes up only to have them shattered by priests powerless to help him. But the half-elf's enthusiasm was a refreshing change from the despairing malaise that darkened his mind when he was by himself. He expected nothing, of course, but he had come this far… he might as well go all the way. At least I won't have to climb that damnable hill again, Corin thought as he followed Lhasha into the House of Hands.
A priest stepped forward to greet them, at least Corin assumed it was a priest. He wore a leather apron, and tools of every possible description hung from the belt around his waist. The only thing identifying him as a cleric was a picture of a cog wheel-Gond's holy symbol- emblazoned on the front of his smock.
"Lhasha, welcome as always," the man said by way of greeting. "I see you've brought a friend."
"Hello, Dergin," Lhasha replied with a smile. "This is
Corin." The priest nodded in acknowledgement, and Corin returned the gesture. "Is Fendel in?"
"Of course," Dergin said. "In his workshop, where else? Go on in."
To Corin he added, "Feel free to examine any of the many inventions you might come across in the church, it honors the Wonderbringer when we take an interest in his marvels."
"This way," Lhasha said, "in the back."
Corin still wasn't sure about Lhasha's faith in her friend, but he had to admit Gond's priests were unlike any he had met before. Even the church was something of an oddity. Instead of the sounds of chanting, bells, or gentle harps one might expect in a house of worship, the air was filled with the clang of hammer meeting anvil, the sawing of wood and the roaring of great fires that Corin assumed to be coming from furnaces in the back. The acrid smell of