Tymora's Luck - Kate Novak [38]
An uneasy suspicion seized the bard. He knelt down before Jas and put his hand around her goblet. "Jas, do you remember what you said about how Tymora reacted when you said you wanted to be able to fly. She gave you a sad little smile as if you were a kid who asked for cake for dinner? If it was a test, you failed, but she gave you what you asked for anyway."
"Yes… so?" Jas replied, tugging her goblet away from Joel's hand and sloshing some of it on herself in the process. It looked like blood dripping down her leather vest.
"I was thinking of those drunken revelers last night- the ones we hid from on the road to the Gilded Hall. They were fighting over the wine, remember? Finder called them the bacchae. They travel in mobs, with no purpose but to drink. I'm wondering if they all had a dark stalker."
"What are you talking about?" Jas asked, clearly confused by Joel's line of thought.
"Metaphorically speaking. They might all have something inside them that they can't get rid of. Maybe that's what made them more susceptible to the wine."
Jas stared at the bard for several moments, seemingly without comprehension. Understanding, when it came, caused her to start. She set the goblet back down on the tray. Her body shook. At first Joel thought it was from rage, until he saw the tears in her eyes.
Joel set his goblet down as well. He took Jas's hands in his own. "It's going to be all right. Tymora will get rid of the dark stalker."
"It doesn't matter," Jas sobbed. Her tears fell from her cheeks and mixed in rivulets with the wine on her vest. "Arandes is dead. All the others are dead. I shouldn't even be alive. I should have died with my crew."
"No," Joel insisted. "They wouldn't want you to feel that way. Your being alive means they'll be remembered." Joel hesitated for a moment. Reminding Jas of Walinda might only encourage her to renew her futile quest for vengeance, but it was a risk the bard felt he had to take. He phrased his words carefully. "Your being alive is a symbol of Walinda's failure to resurrect Bane. Fighting off the dark stalker as long as you have is a symbol of the failure of Iyachtu Xvim's priest to spread their darkness."
Jas looked up at Joel and laughed in spite of herself through her tears. "You bards are such smooth talkers. Everything's a symbol to you."
Joel shrugged. "After all those years of training at the bard college, I can't help myself anymore."
"Can't help what?" Emilo asked, suddenly popping out from behind a weigela bush.
"The propensity to put reality into poetical context," Joel said. He released Jas's hands and stood up. "Where have you been?"
"I went to investigate something that caught my eye," Emilo replied. He looked at Jas with surprise. "You've been crying," he noted. He pulled out an enormous baby blue handkerchief from one of the many pockets in his vest. "Here, you can dry your eyes with this. It's clean. Unless you'd rather keep crying. That would be all right, too." "No, I'm finished now," Jas said, taking the proffered cloth. She dabbed at her eyes, then wiped off her leather vest.
Emilo snagged a slice of melon from the tray of food on the bench and slurped at it noisily.
Tymora, Finder, and the priestess Winnie returned from their private conference. Jas stood as they approached. "Will you help me now, please?" she asked the goddess. She held chin up and met Tymora's gaze, but there was only earnestness, not pride, in her tone.
"Of course I'll help you," Tymora answered. She smiled warmly and placed both her hands on the winged woman's shoulders.
Joel stepped away from the pair to stand at Finder's side. Emilo took a position beside Winnie. He flashed the halfling priestess a cheery smile. Winnie eyed the kender with a look of indifference, but a tiny smile played across her lips when the kender looked away from her.
Tymora whispered a few words Joel couldn't hear. Suddenly blue light glowed about her hands; then the blue light began to turn white,