Кейт Новак - Finder's Bane

“Well, he may have been no music lover, but he knew its value,” Jedidiah replied. “You crafted it well.” From the folds of his cloak, the old priest drew out a curved blade.

“It’s Holly’s cutlass!” Joel said in astonishment.

“Is it?” Jedidiah asked. “The owner of the shop where I found your birdpipes said the man who sold him your birdpipes sold this weapon to him as well. I knew it wasn’t your sword, but I bought it anyway, in case it belonged to a companion of yours.”

“Joel! Joel, look up there!” Holly shouted from below. She was climbing up from the valley floor in such an excited state that she was having trouble keeping her footing on the slate landslide. She pointed at a spot on the mountain peak behind them.

Joel and Jedidiah looked around at the mountain peak. The landslide had uncovered not only a cave, but something much more exciting. Just above the shale, a chipped granite staircase led to a large platform. On the platform, two huge statues flanked a gigantic metal door, which reflected the sun’s light as brightly as a mirror.

Jas landed beside the two priests of Finder just as Holly managed to make her way to the top of the shale slope.

Jedidiah presented the paladin with her cutlass, explaining how he had found it in his attempt to track Joel through Daggerdale. Holly smiled with joy at the return of the weapon that had belonged to her father. She thanked Jedidiah profusely. The old priest bowed graciously.

“It’s more luck than I’d hoped for,” Holly said, staring in wonder at her cutlass. “You gave me my weapon just in time for us to go explore the cave up there.”

“We agreed we weren’t going to waste a lot of time here,” Jas said. “We should press on to the south before the day gets any later.”

“We should at least find out what’s inside,” Holly insisted. “It could be important. Lord Randal will want to know.”

“It’s Shraevyn’s tomb,” Jedidiah said.

“Really?” Holly asked excitedly. “Are you sure?”

“Who’s Shraevyn?” Joel asked.

“Who cares?” Jas sighed.

“He was a mage who created magical weapons for the warriors of the dales a long time ago,” Holly said. “How do you know for sure it’s Shraevyn’s?” she asked Jedidiah.

Jedidiah looked up at the sky. As if he saw words written there, he recited,

Holly’s eyes widened. “You were there?” she asked.

Jedidiah laughed. “My dear, that was over three and a half centuries ago. Just how old do you think I am? No, better not answer that. I was quoting from The Lay of Shraevyn,’ translated, of course, from the elvish.”

“The Sword of the Dales,” Holly whispered. “Is that a great weapon?”

“It must have been,” Jedidiah answered. “Shraevyn crafted it.”

“I can’t just leave here without finding out more,” Holly insisted.

“We haven’t got enough manpower to go looting a crypt,” Jas insisted. “Besides, they’re always loaded with traps and tricks.”

“It might be better to let Lord Randal investigate with several stout men of his own choosing,” Jedidiah suggested.

“But that could take days,” Holly argued. “We can’t risk the Zhents discovering what’s in there first.”

“We will lead the Zhents away from this place when we leave,” Jedidiah said. “As for the time, that I may be able to shorten.” He whistled and cupped his hands together. When he opened his hands again, a golden warbler hopped from his palm to his finger—the same sort of bird Joel had seen in his vision. The bird tilted its head to look up at the old priest with one eye. It peeped expectantly. “Speak a message to Lord Randal,” Jedidiah told the paladin. “Keep it short,” he added.

“Lord Randal,” Holly began tentatively. Her voice wavered, but she grew more confident as she spoke. “Shraevyn’s tomb has been found,” she reported. “Uncovered. At the end of Giant Craw Valley. If you hurry, you may reach it before the Zhentarim learn of it. I travel south now. Your faithful servant, Holly.” She looked up at Jedidiah. “Is that all right?”

“Perfect,” the priest said. He whistled at the bird and raised his hand. The golden warbler circled to gain altitude, then took off to the southeast.

Holly smiled with pleasure. “Thank you,” she said to Jedidiah.

“You’re most welcome. It is the least I could do for the service you have rendered me,” he said.

“What service?” Holly asked.

“Looking after my student here,” the old priest said, patting Joel on the back. “Thank you both,” he said, nodding to Jas.

“You’ll get my bill later,” Jas muttered. “Can we leave now?” she asked Joel.

Joel looked at Jedidiah. The old priest smiled but said nothing.

“I guess we should be off, then,” the young bard answered.

They left the valley riding the Zhents’ horses. The horses without a rider they tied together and led along behind them. Holly looked back on the valley and noted to her satisfaction that the exposed crypt entrance couldn’t be seen from the magical stone.

As they rode south through the foothills, Jedidiah entertained Holly and Joel with song after song. The old priest’s repertoire seemed infinite. Joel sang along with a few he knew. When Holly asked shyly to be taught some of the songs, Jedidiah undertook the task with pleasure. Joel had always admired Jedidiah’s eagerness to teach others, even those without much talent. What the paladin lacked in tone, she made up for with enthusiasm. Jedidiah picked out cheerful songs well suited to the girl’s nature. Jas scowled and, declaring she was going to keep a lookout, took to the air.

Toward late afternoon they stopped to rest beside a stream. As Holly splashed in the icy water farther downstream, Joel and Jedidiah filled the waterskins.

“She’s quite charming,” Jedidiah noted, nodding in the direction of the paladin. “She sings with her whole heart.”

Joel nodded in agreement. He looked up, hoping to spot Jas, but the winged woman was nowhere in sight. “I guess Jas doesn’t care much for music,” he said.

Jedidiah shook his head. “From what you’ve told me, I’ll wager she’s hoping to spot her ship. A spelljamming helm is too rare to let slip away. Once you’ve got the wanderlust for the spheres, you don’t return happily to being a groundling.”

“What kind of helm?” Joel asked.

“Spelljamming,” Jedidiah said. “It’s what makes her ship fly. Any priest or mage can make it move, using the power of spellcasting. I don’t know how she thinks she’s going to get it away from your Banite priestess, though.”

“She was planning to ask for Elminster’s help,” Joel explained.

“A priestess of Bane traveling around with a spelljammer … that just might interest the old sage,” Jedidiah remarked. “It certainly piques my curiosity.”

“So you think we could help her?” Joel asked. “Jas, I mean.”

“I think you should finish your pilgrimage to the Lost Vale first, as you promised Finder you would,” Jedidiah said. “Jas can wait.”

“She’s afraid the Banites will figure out how to take it outside the sphere, whatever that means,” Joel said, “and strand her here.”

“I can’t imagine why they’d want to do that. They’d end up little fish in a very big pond. Still, if she’s worried about that, why is she still with you? Why doesn’t she take off and search for it?”