Tymora's Luck Read online

  “Yeah,” Joel said, being deliberately brief in an attempt to imitate the toughs he’d encountered in Sigil.

  “Tell me how you knew we were searching for her,” said the tyrannar.

  “A priest called Perr hired me and my mates to bring her down,” Joel replied with a fairly passable Sigilian accent.

  “And what happened to Hatemaster Perr?” the tyrannar demanded.

  “Got himself caught up in a razorvine. Sliced himself up on it deliberately before the Hardheads could use their magic to get him to turn stag on us and the Boss,” Joel replied.

  “What happened to the Boss?” the tyrannar asked.

  “When the Hardheads come beating down the door, he turned hisself into a big frog and attacked ’em,” Joel explained. “But the Hardheads took him down. That’s when I pinched the bird girl and give ’em the laugh. I remembered the Boss saying she was supposed to be delivered here to you, so I brought her myself. No need to thank me. Jink will do nicely.”

  The tyrannar glared long and hard at Joel, but the bard never lowered his eyes.

  At last the tyrannar spoke again. “You should know, Marin the Red, that we do not pay for our own property. Which is not to say we will not offer you a reward.”

  “What sort of reward?” Joel asked, allowing a suspicious tone to creep into his voice.

  “If you join the church of Iyachtu Xvim, I am prepared to offer you a position of honor, which, should you prove yourself, will be followed by a position of power.”

  “I’m not much of a joiner,” Joel replied. “I don’t like most other people.”

  The tyrannar chuckled. “As Iyachtu Xvim is the god of hatred and tyranny, that is considered a requirement of the faith.”

  “Yeah?” Joel asked, his tone hinting that he might be prepared to nibble on the tyrannar’s offer.

  “We need a new captain of the guard for Lord Xvim’s throne room,” the tyrannar explained.

  “What happened to the old captain?” Joel asked suspiciously.

  “He met with an unfortunate accident, along with several of his immediate underlings. Only one of his deputies survived, and none of the remaining guards are really leadership material. So, you see, we need to recruit someone to fill the position. It is important that the position not be left empty for any considerable period of time. Aside from the security concerns, it would be a serious breach of tradition.”

  “What about all these yugoloths you’ve got around here?” the bard demanded.

  “The job requires certain skill beyond the yugoloths’ capabilities. Traditionally it is held by a human, and we are loath to break with tradition,” the tyrannar explained.

  “Don’t trust the big bugs, do you?” Joel asked with a vulgar wink. “So what’s the garnish on this job?”

  “Garnish? Oh, you mean pay. We’re willing to pay a hundred gold pieces a week.”

  Joel bit down on his lip. The offer was quite generous, which, considering its source, had to make him even more suspicious. It didn’t seem reasonable that they were prepared to recruit a complete unknown to serve as a guard in Xvim’s throne room, so there had to be a catch. If he were to turn down the offer, however, he had a sneaking suspicion he’d become a slave or a sacrifice. He wasn’t exactly in a position to bargain, but he didn’t want to appear as if he knew that. “Make it three hundred,” the bard offered, “and you have yourself a deal.”

  “As I said, we can only offer such a position of honor to a follower of our Lord Xvim,” the tyrannar replied.

  “Well, then, sign me up,” Joel replied, wondering if he would be compelled to join if he refused.

  “You must make an offering to Xvim,” the tyrannar explained.

  “Well, you can have the bird girl, then. I offer her to Xvim,” Joel said blithely. He couldn’t help but recall that Walinda had done the exact same thing to Jas not long ago.

  “Welcome to the ranks of the Xvimlar,” the tyrannar said. “Kneel before me, Marin the Red.”

  Joel set the backpacks aside and knelt before the ancient priest. He wondered if Finder was finding this performance amusing. Possibly not. The situation was too serious.

  Tyrannar Neri laid his hand, twisted and emaciated with age, on Joel’s head. “Know that you are part of the New Darkness that will spread throughout the multiverse. By your faith will Lord Xvim rule as the greatest tyrant in history, and his hatred will fill the void.”

  Joel felt a sudden revulsion seize him. His stomach heaved, but fortunately it was empty. The tyrannar’s touch seemed to sting like a wasp. Under the pretense of prostrating himself lower, the bard slipped out from under the tyrannar’s hand.

  “Rise, Xvimlar Marin,” Hatemaster Morr pronounced.

  Joel stood up. The tyrannar’s eyes glittered with hatred and the corners of his lips curled upward with some unknown amusement. He obviously thought he’d fooled Joel somehow.

  As he grabbed up his backpacks, Joel wondered just how much the old man knew.

  The tyrannar waved his hand, and Hatemaster Morr said, “Follow me, Xvimlar Marin.”

  Joel turned from the tyrannar and followed the hatemaster from the audience chamber. He felt a horrible chill come over his whole body. He touched his hand to his chest to feel the warmth of the finder’s stone, then remembered he’d given it to Emilo.

  Although Joel was sure Finder would know his offer to Xvim was only a lie, the bard had a strong sense that evil had embraced him. In this place of hatred, he worried that his spoken words might have been more powerful than what was in his heart.

  Hatemaster Morr led Joel out of the temple. As they stood atop the great staircase, the hatemaster pointed imperially across the courtyard.

  “Within that tower,” the priest of Xvim said, “is the throne room of Lord Xvim. That is your new post. Lord Xvim is not present at the moment, but he requires that there be a captain of the guard or his deputy on duty at all times. The yugoloths are not permitted in the temple or the tower.”

  “Where do the yugoloths live?” Joel asked curiously.

  Hatemaster Morr pointed to the cliff that formed the bastion’s rear wall. “The mount is honeycombed with caverns. As the yugoloths are not threatened by fire, the eruptions that occasionally occur within are no more than inconveniences for the creatures.”

  “So the deputy and the rest of the guards are in the tower?” Joel asked.

  “Yes,” the hatemaster said, signalling to one of the lobsterlike yugoloths.

  The short red yugoloth tramped up the stairs with an honor guard of six of the giant cricket yugoloths.

  “This is the new captain of the guard of Lord Xvim’s throne room,” the hatemaster informed the yugoloth. “Escort him to his post.” He motioned for Joel to follow the yugoloths.

  The bard followed his honor guard down the stairs of the temple and across the courtyard. As he passed by the units of giant marching yugoloths, he began to understand Holly’s fears. Walinda’s army was going to be slaughtered by the yugoloths; the priestess would reach her goddess only by walking on the tanar’ri’s corpses.

  Then Joel thought of Jas, and the problems of the tanar’ri and the yugoloths no longer concerned him. He worried instead about Jas, who deserved it. If Emilo didn’t find him soon, Joel determined, he’d have to slip out of the throne room somehow and go looking for his friends.

  The door to the tower was barred on the outside with the thighbone of some gargantuan beast. What, Joel wondered, were they keeping inside? Then it occurred to him: Beshaba was locked within. According to Walinda, however, the goddess was unconscious and thus didn’t need to be locked up. Didn’t the Xvimlar know that? Surely they didn’t imagine that the doors would hold if Beshaba were conscious and desired to leave.

  Perhaps, Joel thought, there’s something else in the tower—something the tyrannar had assigned to guard the goddess, something even the yugoloth feared enough to want to lock it up.

  The short yugoloth gave the order for the door to be opened. Tw
o of the giant yugoloths lifted the bar, and a third pulled open the door. Darkness and a suffocating heat came from the doorway.

  Suddenly one of the giant yugoloths gave Joel a shove that sent the bard sprawling through the door and across the floor of the tower. Then the yugoloths slammed the door shut, leaving the bard in total darkness. Joel could hear them set the bar in place.

  Joel rose carefully to his feet.

  “Finally,” a voice whispered. The whisper echoed throughout the chamber, making it hard for Joel to judge the speaker’s direction.

  “Finally,” the voice repeated, then added, “another sacrifice.”

  Act Three

  Scene 5

  Emilo hurried after the four yugoloths who were carrying off Jas. The creatures marched down twisting corridors through the fortress walls, then down a staircase that led into a swelteringly hot, humid dungeon. During the entire time, Jas never ceased screeching. The yugoloths entered a large room filled with vile implements of torture. As one lit the torches in the wall sconces, the others strapped the winged woman down on a huge table. Jas’s screeching turned to a pitiable keening. The yugoloths pulled a sack over her head, and Jas grew instantly quiet. Her body became completely rigid. The yugoloths began searching her person, removing weapons and valuables and setting them on a tray.

  One of the yugoloths spent a long time examining Jas’s star-filled paperweight, until one of the others smacked him, grabbed the paperweight from his hands, and set it down on the tray. Alongside the paperweight, Jas’s daggers, her ring of fire protection, and her water bottle, the yugoloths set the little wooden harp that could transport Jas back to the safety of Fermata. While the yugoloths were intent on dumping out the contents of Jas’s backpack, the kender palmed the harp and the paperweight.

  Winnie’s gold spilled across the table, and a number of pieces rolled to the floor. That was Emilo’s first experience with yugoloth greed. The creatures scurried frantically after the gold, each clawing at the others in order to gather up the most coins. Finally they returned to the tray. Although they only spoke to one another telepathically, it was obvious to Emilo from their gestures that they noticed the missing paperweight. They started to argue over its absence.

  Another yugoloth, half as tall as the others, whose shape reminded Emilo of a crayfish, came into the room. The little yugoloth must have been a boss, because he got the big yugoloths to stop fighting and ordered them to leave the room. Then the little yugoloth looked over Jas’s possessions for himself. He snatched up the ring of fire protection and scowled at the meager remains. After a more thorough search, he discovered a hidden pocket in Jas’s backpack that held a small sack of gems and jewelry. He tied the sack to his weapons belt. For good measure, he took Jas’s dagger. The silvered blade must be worth something, Emilo conjectured.

  As the little yugoloth turned to go, Emilo gently slit the sack of gems and jewelry with his dagger, creating a hole in the bag from which a tiny gem spilled forth. In time, the hole would grow. Once the yugoloth left the room, Emilo hurried back to the table where Jas was bound and patted the winged woman’s shoulder.

  “They’re gone, Jas. It’s going to be all right now,” the kender assured her in a soft voice. Very gently he pulled the hood from Jas’s head. The winged woman turned her head and blinked in the light of the torch on the wall, but she didn’t seem to see Emilo.

  The kender unbuckled the leather straps that held Jas to the table.

  Freed from her bonds, Jas suddenly sprang up and flew to the ceiling. She fluttered in a dark corner like a moth caught in a jar.

  “Jas, come down,” Emilo whispered. “What are you doing up there?”

  Jas hissed at the kender.

  Emilo sighed. Then an idea occurred to him. He pulled out Jas’s star-filled paperweight and held it up to the light. “See what I have?” he asked softly. “Come down and look at the stars, Jas.”

  Jas’s eyes followed the paperweight, entranced by the sparkles inside. Suddenly she swooped down and grabbed the ornament in her talons. As she crouched beside the kender and stared down at the flecks of glitter within the paperweight, her eyes ceased to glow. In another few moments, she took on human shape. Finally Jas collapsed to her knees, sobbing.

  The kender stroked Jas’s hair while she cried. She still said nothing, but the sobbing was definitely a human sound. After a few minutes, her crying grew less violent, and Emilo pulled out a purple handkerchief and pressed it into one of her talons. Jas looked up at the kender.

  “You’ve got to go find Joel, Emilo,” Jas said. “Leave me behind.”

  “I can’t,” Emilo replied. “Joel wouldn’t want me to, and I don’t want to. It’s two to one. You’re outvoted.”

  “Emilo, the dark stalker could take over again at any moment,” Jas growled. “I could end up hunting you for Xvim’s people. I could betray you and Joel. I don’t deserve to live.”

  Emilo put his hands on Jas’s cheeks and leaned his face very close to hers. “Jas, listen to me very carefully,” he said. “There is no dark stalker in you. It’s your heart playing tricks on your mind.”

  Jas drew away from the kender and glared at him angrily. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped.

  “Maybe not,” the kender said, “but Finder and Tymora seemed to think they did. When you and Joel were sampling the wine in Tymora’s garden, I followed Finder and Tymora and Winnie to find out what they were talking about.”

  “So? What did they say?” Jas demanded.

  “Finder said that the crazy Xvimlar wizard had cast an ordinary spell on you. The priests told you it would make you into a dark stalker, so you believed them. But all the spell really did was change your shape. When Finder changed you back to your true form, though, he couldn’t make you believe you weren’t a dark stalker. He told Tymora that your belief was too strong to overcome, but if Tymora cast a spell on you and made it look like it was very powerful, you would believe she had removed the dark stalker because she was so powerful.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Jas hissed. “If the dark stalker wasn’t inside me, I never would have changed back.”

  “Well, Finder had an explanation for that, too. He said the spell the Xvimlar cast on you unbalanced the magic in the wings that Tymora gave you. The magic in your wings is very powerful. So when the magic kind of leaked out into your whole body, your body changed to match your emotions. Kind of like the way your wings change when you go to a different place so that you always fit in. Anyway, there’s really no such thing as a spell to make a person into a dark stalker.”

  “Bear was a dark stalker,” Jas argued. “He hunted Finder all the way through Daggerdale.”

  “Finder was confused by that, too, but Tymora said Bear may have been driven mad by the wizard, and those who are driven mad can sometimes sense power intuitively.”

  “You’re making all this up,” Jas shouted. “There’s no way I am wrong about the dark stalker. I can feel it inside me.”

  Emilo sighed. “That’s because your heart is stronger than your reason. Winnie said it’s quite common in cases like yours where you’ve not only suffered a recent tragedy, but you still haven’t recovered from a childhood tragedy. Winnie said what you’re feeling inside you isn’t a dark stalker, Jas. It’s your own guilt and bottled-up grief. You can’t let go of them, so they’ve made a darkness on your soul, which you confused with the lie that the priests of Xvim told you. Winnie didn’t think Tymora should go along with Finder’s plan to try to fool you. She thought the only thing that could heal you was if you grieved for your parents and your friends and accepted the fact that it wasn’t your fault that they died.”

  “How can I grieve when that murderess is walking around free?” Jas snarled angrily. “It’s just like when my parents died. I couldn’t do anything to avenge their deaths. My friends’ deaths were even worse. Every time I tried to kill their murderer, I failed. I’m useless … worse than useless, in fact. I’m helping that b
itch just so Tymora doesn’t die.”

  A sudden realization came over the kender. “You mean it was Walinda who murdered your friends?” Emilo asked.

  “Walinda tortured them to death,” Jas keened. “She made me watch.” The winged woman began sobbing once more.

  Emilo stroked her hair some more. After several minutes, Jas grew calm again.

  “I thought the only way I was going to fight the dark stalker was to give up hating Walinda,” Jas said. “I can’t do that. And not just because we’re so close to the Bastion of Hate.”

  “I can understand that,” Emilo said. “You don’t have to. You just have to accept that Walinda isn’t dead yet.”

  “You tell me how to do that,” Jas demanded angrily.

  The kender squeezed Jas’s shoulders and said fiercely, “Just focus on that word yet.”

  Act Three

  Scene 6

  Joel turned about slowly, his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. Fortunately the room wasn’t truly pitch-black. Somewhere ahead was a smoldering brazier. There was a horrendous stench to the room, like an abattoir.

  “Who’s there?” the bard called out.

  “Oooh, a curious one,” the whispering voice replied. The echoes in the hall still made it seem to come from everywhere. There was a slight squeak to the whisper, as though it came from a woman or a child … or perhaps a halfling or kender.

  “I’m Marin the Red,” Joel announced, “the captain of the guard of Lord Xvim’s throne room, and I demand to know who you are.”

  Raucous, high-pitched laughter rang through the hall. Leaving his backpacks on the floor, Joel drew his sword and moved forward cautiously.

  “Watch out!” the high-pitched voice cried out.

  The warning came too late as Joel tripped on something soft. He sprawled across the floor once more.

  As he pulled himself to his aching knees, the bard’s hands came in contact with what had tripped him—the legs of a human body. Joel ran his hands up the body. It was encased in plate mail. The bard felt around the body’s throat. The flesh was cold. There was no pulse.