A zombie grell scooped up Jedidiah's fallen form and floated from the hall. The grell holding Joel released him. The Rebel Bard followed after his god. Two grell followed him.
The grell carrying Jedidiah led the party through a glowing portal. On the other side was a straight passageway that climbed back to the daylit surface of the Outlands. After the cool, dark corridors, the bright sky, with or without a sun, was a pleasure to see, and the air felt gloriously warm. Even better was the quiet that settled in Joel's head.
The grell set down Jedidiah and disappeared back into the dark tunnel in the earth.
Joel rushed to Jedidiah's side and shook him by the shoulders, calling out his name. The god remained unconscious, and he was very pale, but at least his breathing was steady. Joel rolled his cape up to pillow the older man's head.
Joel surveyed the land. He stood on a low bluff looking out over a great level plain. From the center of the plain rose a great city, laid out in perfect order, surrounded by a high wall. Everything was built of the same uniform red brick. The roofs all sparkled with glazed yellow tile. The streets were all paved with gray stone. Joel could see at least three large gardens, each growing around a blue lake. Even from this distance, the young priest was inclined to agree with Ilsensine- or, rather, with the victims whose minds the god had drained. The Palace of Judgment was indeed beautiful.
Yet the palace was only a stepping stone to Sigil. He and Jedidiah would have to reach the City of Doors quickly. If they didn't find the Hand of Bane before Walinda did, they would have nothing to barter for the stolen half of the finder's stone. Finder would remain a very weak god for a long time, and Bane the Tyrant would return to the Realms.
Joel shuddered. He knelt down beside Jedidiah, shook him gently, and called out his name-his real name this time.
The older priest woke with a start. He smiled up at Joel. " 'Lo," he said.
"Hello yourself," Joel replied with a grin, relief flooding over him.
"Been sleeping long, have I?" Jedidiah asked. He sounded like an invalid recovering from a long illness.
"Not too long," Joel answered. He helped his god sit up.
Jedidiah's head twitched involuntarily. It was a movement Joel had never seen before.
"Are you all right?" Joel asked Jedidiah.
"I'm not sure," the older bard said. "They have a saying in the Outlands: 'One would be wise to question the wits of anyone who makes it back alive from Ilsensine's court.'"
"You should have let Ilsensine take a song from me," Joel chided. "I must have known something it had never heard."
Jedidiah shook his head. "It was too great a risk."
Joel chuckled. "And Grypht warned me what a reckless fellow you are."
Jedidiah smiled. "Well, I am. I'm the kind of fellow who climbs to the top of a high wall and dances a jig. But I never intend to fall from the wall and break my neck. You might have known a song that Ilsensine had never heard-one of your own that you haven't performed yet. But then instead of leaving you completely brain-burned, Ilsensine would have only left you addled. No. I stood a better chance of resisting its probe."
"Why didn't Ilsensine just keep us and drain us?"
"Have you ever eaten crab?" Jedidiah asked.
Joel looked completely confused by the question.
"Some people enjoy cracking the crab and getting the meat piece by laborious piece. Ilsensine prefers to have the crab shell itself and hand its meat over. Just one of its sick games. Not one you want to play, believe me."
"Do you know what song it took? Did it take only one?"
"I can't remember," Jedidiah said, his face drawn. "I can feel there's a void, but I don't know what was there."
Joel nodded. "I'm sorry. I know how you feel about your songs. They're like your children. You want them to live and flourish. Now one of them is gone forever."
Jedidiah looked out across the plain toward the Palace of Judgment. A look of grief swept across his face. "It wouldn't be the first time," he said. He stood up awkwardly. "Let's go," he said.
Fourteen
After so much time in the wilderness, the crush of humanity approaching the Palace of Judgment was jarring. A steady stream of travelers moved along the paved road toward the palace gates. They all seemed to be traveling on foot. Some were empty-handed, while others carried small sacks of food and belongings. They were all pale, like ghosts. Almost all had dark hair and unusual eyes. There was no traffic headed in the opposite direction. "They look like the Tuigan Horde," Joel joked. "Not so loud," Jedidiah admonished him. "These are the dead of Kara-Tur. The Tuigans invaded their lands as well. Comparisons between the two peoples would be considered a grave insult. The Kara-Tur consider the Tuigans barbarians. Of course, the Kara-Tur consider all outsiders to be barbarians, from the king of Cormyr to the sage of Shadowdale."
They stepped into the stream of traffic and approached the gate amongst the orderly dead. Standing to one side of the gate, outside the walls, stood one of the living. Walinda of Bane was examining each traveler who approached the gates. The two living priests stood out among the crowd, and the priestess recognized them only a moment after they spotted her. She hurried toward them.
"My master said you would arrive soon," the priestess said as she took a place beside them on the road.
On one hand, Joel was relieved to see that the priestess hadn't gotten to Sigil before them. On the other hand, he wasn't about to forgive her for abandoning them. "What are you doing here?" the bard asked. "Did the banelich kick you out of his chariot?"
"My master has gone on to the astral plane to search for Bane's body," the priestess replied coolly. "In the meantime, I have been instructed to oversee the hand's recovery."
"You left us behind in Ilsensine's realm," Joel accused her.
"What difference does it make? You escaped. You are alive and unscathed, as far as I can see."
"No thanks to you," Joel retorted.
"And I escaped from the Temple in the Sky without your help," Walinda reminded him.
Joel was silenced.
"But you can't get into the palace without our help, can you?" Jedidiah taunted. "I guess I forgot to mention that entry to living creatures is rather restricted."
Walinda's face reddened, and she glared coldly at Jedidiah.
Like a dramatic tour guide, Jedidiah waved his arm to indicate the palace. "All the dead of Kara-Tur," the priest explained, "come here to be judged by the Celestial Bureaucracy and sent on to the plane for which the deeds and misdeeds of their lives suited them. That's why there are gates to every plane here. It is also a place of great order. All who serve within report to a bureaucrat, who in turn reports to a higher bureaucrat, who reports to an even higher bureaucrat, who reports to Yen-Wang-Yeh, Illustrious Magistrate of the Dead, the sole ruling power here. His law is enforced by General Pien and his army of men-shen and go-zu-oni. The gods of Kara-Tur, good or evil, orderly or chaotic, and all those in between rely on this part of the Celestial Bureaucracy to provide them with the inhabitants of their realms. Not one would dare disrupt the business that takes place here. So the palace is also a place where powers and their ambassadors can meet to parlay and exchange prisoners. The powers of other pantheons also meet here, knowing that General Pien and his forces would instantly squelch any disorder." "If my master had a fortress such as this, plus all these dead at his command," Walinda said, "he could rule the Realms."
"So could Yen-Wang-Yeh," Jedidiah replied. "But there is nothing in the Realms he desires. All the gods of the Kara-Tur, even the evil and chaotic ones, have a place in the Celestial Bureaucracy and duties to perform. To step out of one's place, to fail in one's duty, would bring dishonor."