Leap of Faith
Chapter 6 – Reconciliation
Sard sighed with relief when he saw Kestrel leap to her feet and flee the temple. He was sure that, even blind, she could elude any pursuit.
The congregation and most of the attending priests were in what his grandmother would have called 'a bit of a tizzy'. It was also an excellent time for him to depart.
As the thief turned to leave, a voice spoke from the stage.
"A moment, Brother".
Ignoring the voice, Sard continued to make his way along the front row of pews to a secondary aisleway. He was almost there!
"I said, HOLD!" The voice behind him commanded.
Sard felt compelled to stop moving. His limbs were weighted down. Walking was like slogging through mud! After two more small steps he was exhausted and could not move further. Not just not walk, but not move, at all.
Two strapping young clerics, one holding a war staff, confronted the thief. Sard was certain that more armed priests were behind him.
"Now", said the voice that had spoken to him. "We have a few questions for you, 'Brother'. Try to flee, and I will cast worse spells than this upon you. You can now move."
Sard felt a gentle touch on his left shoulder. He was no longer restrained. He turned to face the man who addressed him. It was Kelln.
"Excellent throw", said the cleric, holding up the hymnal with a dart still embedded in it.
"You are welcome, Master Kelln", replied Sard, in what he hoped was an appropriately pious tone. "Please think nothing of it. It was divine inspiration. I am only glad that no one came to any harm."
Kelln pointed to the rear of the nave where a body in priestly garb lay sprawled over the hard, unforgiving wooden back of a bench.
"Well, other than him, of course."
"Please accompany me", was all Kelln said, as he pointed to a doorway below the eastern quire loft.
Kelln, with Sard and several armed priests in tow, exited the church proper, walked down a narrow hallway and started up a spiral staircase. Entering a short corridor, Kelln pointed to a stout oaken door.
"Wait in there. I will return in a bit. These four will guard the door. Do not try anything... foolish. And leave your weapons with them."
With that warning, Kelln went back down the stairs.
Sard looked at the three brawny young men, and one woman, guarding him. The men held one weapon each - a staff, a mace and a war hammer. The woman was unarmed. She was approaching middle-age. Of average height. The clerical robes hid much but looking at her neck and wrists, Sard determined that she was on the lean side. She stood very still and appeared to carry most of her weight on the balls of her feet. Her grey eyes never left him. There was no doubt in the thief's mind that the priestess was the most dangerous one of his guards.
Divesting himself of his stolen clerical clothing, the thief also dropped two long daggers onto the floor. This was followed by a small lead-topped sap, the dart he had taken from Poke's apartment, brass knuckles, and a small steel vial that he placed carefully on the floor.
"Why don't I wait in there?" Sard pointed to the door that Kelln had indicated.
Receiving no response from any of the four, Sard slowly made his way to the door, lifted the latch, and swung the door open. Stepping inside, he was surprised to see a little old lady tending a fireplace. She turned upon hearing the door open.
Bright blue eyes returned his inquisitive stare.
"I'm sorry", said Sard. "I was told to wait in here…"
"Yes, yes. Come in. Master Kelln will be but a moment", said the woman. "Care for some spiced tea?"
"Uh, thank you. Yes."
Sard entered the room, closing the door behind him. The warmth of the room was a welcome change from the cooler damp hallway.
The old woman was dressed in a shabby robe, patched in places. It was of a design similar to what Tymora's priests wore. A hand-me-down to a faithful servitor, supposed the thief.
The old lady turned back to the fire and attempted to lift a rather large, heavy kettle. She was struggling with it, when Sard intervened.
"Here", said Sard, "Let me help with that!"
Pictures of a scalded old lady flashed through the thief's mind. Kelln would likely blame him.
"Oh. Thank you, young man. Most kind."
Sard filled the tea pot and prepared two cups. He ushered the old woman away from the fire, seating her on a small divan. While doing so, he quickly took stock of the room. A few nice pieces of furniture; a large desk, some book shelves, newer rugs. Master Kelln had a comfortable study. A small window at the back of the room was shuttered.
Sard knew the general layout of the temple from his conversation with Kestrel. Walking up and down a few corridors and climbing a spiral staircase was not enough to confuse his excellent sense of direction. He knew that the window overlooked the temple's interior garden. No escape that way.
The thief picked up the two steaming cups and passed one to the old woman. Sitting down, he turned to her, flashed her a brilliant smile, and asked her if she had heard the story of the barn owl and the cow?
Master Kelln entered the study, stopping in the in the doorway at the sight that greeted him.
The false priest, dressed in a laced-up shirt, leather vest and breeches, was seated on the room's divan laughing merrily. His companion was also heartily laughing at the risqué but very funny story that Sard was recounting.
Kelln cleared his throat.
The laughter died down; the thief put down his teacup and stood to meet Kelln. The old lady wriggled herself off of the cushions, nodded to the priest and, in a soft voice, thanked Sard for the tea. She moved over to the desk at the far side of the room.
Kelln pointed to a hard wooden chair. Sard obediently went to it and sat down, his back to the desk and window. Kelln poured himself a cup of the spiced tea. Taking the thief's seat on the settee, he spoke.
"The story we are telling is that a poor, blind parishioner lost her way in the temple and fell from the Chanticleer's balcony. A visiting priest tried, unsuccessfully, to prevent her fall. Sadly, he died in the attempt, but by Tymora's Grace, the woman was saved."
"Not bad", said Sard. "How do explain the dart stuck in the prayer book?"
Kelln looked sternly at the thief.
"It was a hymnal, not a prayer book, and I was not speaking to you!"
Sard turned in his chair. The old woman was seated at the desk, her bright blue eyes looking intently at him. She had removed the old, grey, patched robe. Beneath it she wore white robes, and a stole edged with gold trim and embroidered with green and silver four-leaf clovers. Her holy symbol, a four-leaf clover cut from a green semiprecious gem, hung on a fine silver chain. The old woman, when at the fireplace, had acted like a servant. The same woman now exuded an air of authority and power.
Sard rose to his feet and bowed.
"Preceptress Alline", he said, acknowledging the leader of the Tymoran church.
Mistress Alline gave Sard a half nod, then addressed Kelln.
"A good question from the young man. Master Kelln?"
The prelate gave the thief a sour look, but answered his superior.
"Few really saw what happened at the lectern. We will say a visiting priest fainted, causing a commotion up front. Now. A very odd, hollow cane was recovered. It appeared to have dropped from the balcony. Another dart was found on the priest's body. No one knows this 'priest', or can vouch for him. I have questioned clerics, examined the scene, and communed with my Goddess."
Kelln looked at Sard. "It is apparent that you saved me from death. Thank you."
It sounded to Sard like the thanks were offered grudgingly.
The prelate continued.
"Now, who was your accomplice? I thought I saw a young woman, but reports concerning her appearance are conflicting."
Sard saw no harm in answering their questions regarding the elf. She was one of theirs, so to speak. Talking about her would keep attention off of him.
"A friend asked me to assist her in uncovering a threat to Tymora's temple", stated Sard. "A Beshaban cleric, called Braxes, was involved. After being forced to kill one of Braxes' henchmen, my friend figured out that an assassination was imminent. We came here to warn Mistress Alline."
"Of course. Does this 'friend' have a name"? Asked the Preceptress.
"Probably", answered Sard. "We likely know her by different names. She said she was once Tymora's 'Divine Seeker'.
Kelln and Alline quickly exchanged glances.
"Impossible!" Stated Kelln.
"Describe her!" Ordered Mistress Alline.
"Tall, slender Moon Elf. Dark, wavy hair. Violet eyes. They change colour with the light and her moods. Or did. She's blind now. Nose is turned up a little bit. Has a small, subtle dimple in her chin. Tattoo on her right shoulder. She has the habit of tucking her hair back when vexed or busy -."
Alline held up her hand. Sard stopped talking.
"A 'tall Moon Elf with dark hair' would have sufficed", she stated, rolling her eyes.
Alline and Kelln shared another look. Kelln cleared his throat.
"You may leave, Master Sard. The novice cleric outside this door will return your belongings to you, and show you the way out of the temple."
Sard tried not to show any surprise at the mention of his name. Damn clerics. He bowed to each of them, then exited the study.
Outside in the corridor stood Sard's guards and a young man in ill-fitting priest's robes. The novice bowed to the thief and held out a sack, which Sard assumed, contained his weapons.
"Brother Quintin at your service, sir."
"Quintin", repeated the thief? "I think we have a friend in common. A certain Moon Elf. Perhaps you could deliver a message for me?"
Daelynn leaned over the stone balustrade, staring into the water. Can the blind 'stare', she pondered? She could hear the water, smell the water. Standing at the midpoint of the bridge that spanned a small creek, she wondered if there were any fish below her. The creek flowed serenely through this part of Capitol before it joined the River Silver. Fish sometimes found their way this far upstream.
Big-Boy lay at her feet, snoozing in the afternoon sun. Not a lot of passers-by at this hour. It was a quiet neighbourhood, near to home. She could be alone here with her thoughts.
Troubled thoughts.
Braxes attempt to assassinate a high-placed Tymoran cleric was bold, but irrational. Much like the man himself! A response in kind from Tymora would be required. Or, was Braxes hoping for that?
Sorting out Beshaban intrigues was for minds wiser than hers. Her job was to… Well, she did not have a job! It was true that she had foiled their plan – even blind she had bested an assassin! - but with her skills diminished by blindness she had needed Sard's help and a truly amazing amount of dumb luck to win. The latter could never be found anywhere outside of Lady Luck's own temple!
She hated having limits placed upon her! Needing other's help! It was so, so… sobering, so demeaning – no that was not it. That was the anger speaking. It was so…
"Humbling?" asked a young female voice beside her.
Daelynn jumped. She had not heard anyone approach. Big-Boy had not alerted her to the girl's presence. The elf could hear her dog snoring softly.
"Excuse me?" Asked the elf.
"Ye were searchin' fer a word, Ma'am?"
"Oh! Was I speaking aloud", asked the elf?
"I heard ye", answered the girl.
The girl's voice was familiar, thought Daelynn.
"You were at Tymora's temple today? You helped me with my walking stick", asserted the elf!
"Aye, I were there."
"I am once again in your debt, Miss", said Daelynn. "'Humbling was indeed the word for which I was searching."
"Welcum", said the youngster. "Wot's so humblin'?"
Daelynn paused, shook her head, then almost smiled.
"Realizing the extent of my limitations. Blind or sighted. Even with Tymora's blessings, sometimes we fail. Failure is hard for me to accept. I usually always succeeded at what I did", said the elf, truthfully. "Perhaps you will understand when you are older."
"The 'arrogance o' the gifted'", stated the girl. "Can be diff'clt when they learn they've limits. But once known, them's limits can be surpassed."
"Who are you?" Asked Daelynn, confused and intrigued by the girl's small sermon. "You sound much like my former mentor."
"He were a good man. Roland served me well fer many years. I were hopin' ye can do the same, Daelynn."
"Serve… you?" Daelynn's mind whirled. She clung tightly to the guardrail. A cool breeze blew down the creek, disturbing her hair.
"After t'day", said the girl, softly touching Daelynn's hand. "All's even b'tween us. Nuthin' owed either way. So, 'tis yer choice. And whatever ye choose, Seeker or Herald, put yer heart in to it. If ye can't, then it's not the job fer ye."
Daelynn's eyes burned. Damn, but the sun was bright! She wiped away tears using her blouse's sleeve. Lowering her arm, she looked over at the girl. About ten years of age with red braided hair and a splash of freckles across her nose. Dressed in a raggedy tunic and sandals. She could have been a little sister to the image of Tymora that graced the temple's stained-glass window.
"Oh, look! A fish!" Said the girl excitedly, pointing down into the creek.
Daelynn peered down. She saw a small silver fish swim lazily past. Had anything ever looked so beautiful? Tears again blurred her vision. Looking up, Daelynn saw that, except for Big-Boy, she was alone on the bridge.
- End Chapter