“Our people checked to see if there were any Knights being held prisoner after the battle,” said the minotaur.
“I tried to tell them then,” said Gerard, aggrieved. “I’ve been telling them ever since! No one believes me!”
The minotaur said nothing in reply, just stood staring. Gerard had no way of knowing what the beast-man was thinking beneath those horns.
“Look, sir,” said Gerard, exasperated, “would I be in this stinking hole if my story wasn’t true?” The minotaur stared at Gerard a moment longer. Turning on his heel, he stalked off to the end of the corridor to confer with the gaoler. Gerard saw the jailer peer at him and then shake his head and fling up his hands helplessly.
“Let him out,” ordered the minotaur.
The gaoler hurried to obey. Fitting the key in the lock, he opened the cell door. Gerard walked out to the tune of muttered curses and threats from his fellow prisoners. He didn’t care. At that moment, he could have hugged the minotaur, but he thought his reaction should be one of indignation, not relief. He flung a few curses himself and glowered at the gaoler. The minotaur laid a heavy hand on Gerard’s shoulder. The hand was not there in the spirit of friendship. The minotaur’s nails dug painfully into Gerard’s shoulder.
“I will take you to Mina,” said the minotaur.
“I plan to pay my respects to Lord of the Night Mina,” said Gerard, “but I can’t appear before her like this. Give me some time to wash up and find some decent clothes—”
“She will see you as you are,” said the minotaur, adding, as an afterthought, “She sees all of us as we are.”
This being precisely what he feared, Gerard was not in the least eager to be interviewed by Mina. He had hoped to be able to retrieve his knightly accoutrements (he knew the storehouse where the Solamnics had stashed them) and blend in with the crowd, hang about the barracks with the other Knights and soldiers, pick up the latest gossip, discover who’d been given orders to do what, then leave to make his report.
There was no help for it, however. The minotaur (whose name was Galdar, Gerard finally remembered), marched Gerard out of If the prison. Gerard cast a last glance at Palin as he left. The mage had not moved.
Shaking his head, feeling a shiver run through him, Gerard accompanied the minotaur through the streets of Solanthus.
If anyone would know Mina’s plans, it was Galdar. The minotaur was not the talkative type, however. Gerard mentioned Sanction a couple of times, but the minotaur answered only with a cold, dark glower. Gerard gave up and concentrated on seeing what he could of life in Solanthus. People were out in the streets, going about their daily routine, but they did so in a fearful and hurried manner, keeping their heads down, not wanting to meet the eyes of the numerous patrols. All the taverns were closed, their doors ceremoniously sealed by a band of black cloth that had been stretched across them. Gerard had always heard the saying about courage being found at the bottom of a jug of dwarf spirits, and he supposed that was why the taverns had been shut down. The black cloth was stretched across other shops, as well—most notably mageware shops and shops that sold weapons.
They came within sight of the Great Hall, where Gerard had been brought to trial. Memories came back to him forcibly, particularly memories of Odila. She was his closest friend, his only friend, really, for he was not the type to make friends easily. He was sorry now that he hadn’t said good-bye to her and at least given her some hint of what he planned. Galdar steered Gerard past the Great Hall. The building teemed with soldiers and Knights, for it had apparently been taken over as a barracks. Gerard thought they might stop here, but Galdar led him to the old temples that stood near the hall.
These temples had been formerly dedicated to the gods most favored by the Knights—Paladine and Kiri-Jolith. The temple of Kiri-Jolith was the older of the two and slightly larger, for Kiri-Jolith was considered the Solamnics’ special patron. Paladine’s temple, constructed of white marble, drew the eye with its simple but elegant design. Four white columns adorned the front. Marble steps, rounded so that they resembled waves, flowed down from the portico. The two temples were attached by a courtyard and a rose garden. Here grew the white roses, the symbol of the Knighthood. Even after the departure of the gods and, subsequently, the priests, the Solamnics had kept up the temples and tended the rose gardens. The Knights had used the temples for study or for meditation. The citizens of Solanthus found them havens of peace and tranquility and could often be seen walking here with their families.
“Not surprising this One God looks on them with covetous eyes,” Gerard said to himself. “I’d move here in a minute if I were out wandering the universe, searching for a home.” A large number of the citizens stood gathered around the outer doors of the temple of Paladine. The doors were closed, and the crowd appeared to be awaiting admittance.
“What’s going on, sir?” Gerard asked. “What are all these people doing here? They aren’t threatening to attack, are they?”
A tiny smile creased the minotaur’s muzzle. He almost chuckled. “These people have come to hear about the One God, Mina speaks to crowds like this every day. She heals the sick and performs other miracles. You will find many residents of Solanthus worshiping in the temple.” Gerard had no idea what to say to this. Anything that came to mind would only land him in trouble and so he kept his mouth shut. They were walking past the rose garden when a brilliant flash of sunlight reflecting off amber caught his eye. He blinked, stared, then stopped so suddenly that Galdar, irritated, almost yanked off his arm.
“Wait!” Gerard cried, appalled. “Wait a minute.” He pointed. “What is that?”
“The sarcophagus of Goldmoon,” said Galdar. “She was once the head of the Mystics of the Citadel of Light. She was also the mother of Mina—her adopted mother,” he felt compelled to add.
“She was an old, old woman. Over ninety, so they say. Look at her. She is young and beautiful again. Thus does the One God grant favor to the faithful.”
“A lot of good that does her if she’s dead,” Gerard muttered, his heart aching, as he looked at the body encased in amber. He remembered Goldmoon vividly, remembered her beautiful, golden hair that seemed spun with silver moonbeams, remembered her face, strong and compassionate and lost, searching. He couldn’t find the Goldmoon he had known, though. Her face, seen beneath the amber, was the face of no one, anyone. Her gold and silver hair was amber-colored. Her white robes amber. She’d been caught in the resin, like all the rest of the insects.
“She will be granted life again,” said Galdar. “The One God has promised to perform a great miracle.”
Gerard heard an odd tone in Galdar’s voice and he glanced, startled, at the minotaur. Disapproving? That was hard to be believe. Still, as Gerard thought back over what he knew of the minotaur race, he had always heard them described as devout followers of their former god, Sargonnas, who was himself a minotaur. Perhaps Galdar was having second thoughts about this One God. Gerard marked that down as a hunch he might be able to make use of later. The minotaur gave Gerard a shove, and he had to continue walking. He looked back at the sarcophagus. Many of the citizenry were standing around the amber coffin, gaping at the body inside and sighing and ooohing and aahing. Some were on their knees in prayer. Gerard kept twisting his head to look around, forgot to watch where he was going, and tripped over the temple stairs. Galdar growled at him, and Gerard realized he had better keep his mind on his own business or he’d end up in a coffin himself. And the One God wasn’t likely to perform any miracle on him, The temple doors opened for Galdar, then shut behind him, to the great disappointment of those waiting outside.