Tymora's Luck - Kate Novak [26]
“That's horrible," Jas said.
Finder nodded. "Fortunately she doesn't remember it. Petitioners don't remember anything about their previous lives, but she's still an artist. When I don't need her to greet visitors, she's working with the kiln she's built."
"Did Rina make these?" Emilo asked, holding up one of the white dishes. "It's so light, and look, the sun shines right through it." The kender tapped the dish with his spoon and it rang like a bell. "Did you hear that? That's real pretty."
Finder nodded. "Rina made all the dishes, pottery, jewelry, statuary, anything porcelain you find here. The other petitioner was a painter named Springer who died of old age. He painted the front hall. He's around here somewhere, painting one of the other rooms."
Joel remembered Springer. The old man had gotten into an argument with an Iriaeban merchant over what should be painted in the merchant's hall. Springer had walked off the job and promptly offered his services at a cut rate to paint the hall of one of the merchant's rivals. The painted hall, and thus the rival, had become renowned throughout the region.
"So if you only have two petitioners, who cooked breakfast?" Jas asked.
"I've hired some local help for a while," Finder explained. "I'm not expecting many petitioners in the near future. With any luck, my worshipers will remain healthy and alive for years to come." The god snagged a strawberry and stood up. "I have something I'm working on at the moment, so I'm going to leave you to your meal. When you finish, climb the staircase beyond that door." He pointed to a smaller door than the one by which they'd entered. "I'll be in the room at the top of the tower," he explained. Then he vanished.
"He just disappeared, like a wizard," Emilo noted. "I guess gods can do all sorts of tricks, can't they? Your Finder seems like a splendid fellow."
"He is," Joel assured the kender.
"One of the nicest reckless fools you'll ever meet," Jas added, serving herself a helping of raspberries. "God or no god."
They proceeded to dine in earnest, speaking now and then only to comment on how good the meal was. Joel, anxious to speak with Finder, hurried through his meal Then he excused himself from the table, insisting the other two not rush on his account. He received no argument from either of his companions. Jas was busy playing with the custard, and Emilo was creating a very artistic sandwich far too large to fit into his mouth. Joel hurried up the tower stairs.
The room at the top of the tower was nearly empty. Several books were spread out on a table on one side of the room. There was a single wooden chair in which Finder sat. The god was pondering a yellow crystal that hung suspended in midair in the middle of the room.
The crystal, an artifact known as the finder's stone, could locate just about anything or anyone even slightly known to the bearer. Once upon a time it had also contained spells, like a wand. The spells could be cast by any member of Finder's family. Included in the spells were illusions of Finder singing any of the many songs he had composed in his life as a mortal man. Finder had cleaved the stone in two, however, to get at the shard of para-elemental ice within. He'd used the ice to destroy the evil god Moander, after which he claimed Meander's power and godhood for his own. Each half of the finder's stone still worked as a magical locator, but the stone no longer held any spells.
Finder gestured with one hand, and blue fire engulfed the gem. Joel could feel heat radiating from the stone.
"Have you put it back together?" the bard asked excitedly.
Finder lowered his hand and the blue fire faded. The god shook his head. "I haven't quite figured out how to do it," he explained. "Any power great enough to reintegrate the crystal's structure is equally likely to destroy the magical properties the stone already has." He lifted the top half of the crystal from the bottom and tossed it to Joel.
Joel caught it. It felt warm, but not hot. "What will you do if you do get it back together?" he asked, admiring the stone's