After placing the patriarch's wine and stew on the table, Sarafina asked, "Is there anything else you'd like?"
Adon continued to look away and shook his head without answering. He was not angry with the girl for staring, merely ashamed of his appearance.
"Please, Your Grace," said Sarafina. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. If you could see beneath this veil, you'd know that I'd be the last to mock another's scars."
Adon looked back, touched by the sincerity in her voice. "I thought it unusual for a woman to wear a veil in this part of the world," he said. "Perhaps you should let me have a look at your affliction. I may be able to heal it."
"I don't think so." Sarafina wiped sudden tears from her eyes. "Many priests have tried, and each time they've only made matters worse." "But I'm no ordinary cleric-"
"Please don't ask again," said Sarafina, still looking away. "Can I bring you anything else?"
"Some bread would be nice, if you have any," said Corene.
Sarafina nodded. "My mother has just taken a few loaves out of the oven. I'll bring you some as soon as it's cool enough to cut."
As the young woman returned to the kitchen, Adon shook his head in frustration. "Why are these people so reluctant to accept our help?"
"You can't blame the girl for being cautious," said Corene, pointing at the crooked blemish marring Adon's good looks. "Why should she think you can mend her face when you haven't bothered to heal your own?"
"Our travels together have made you too familiar," Adon snapped. "You'd do well to remember who's the novice and who's the patriarch."
The cleric's threat did not intimidate the young woman. "So why haven't you mended it?" she pressed.
"Don't you think I've tried?" Adon retorted. "I've been praying to Midnight-er, Mystra-since she became the Goddess of Magic."
"And she hasn't answered?"
"Not in this matter," Adon said, sipping the powerful wine Sarafina had placed in front of him.
"I can't believe Our Lady of Mysteries would deny such a thing to someone she once called friend, someone who fought beside her during the Time of Troubles."
"That was before she became a goddess," said Adon, then paused. "Now that she's an immortal, I suppose she must behave as one. She doesn't even like me to call her Midnight. That's the name of my avatar,' she says. The Midnight you knew exists only as a memory.' "
"She calls herself Mystra to honor the goddess of magic before her," Corene noted dogmatically.
"The reason she hasn't healed me is a bit more complicated than an occasional breach of divine etiquette," Adon murmured into his wine.
"Meaning?"
'That she's angry with me for more important things," Adon answered, looking away in embarrassment. "Her church has stopped growing in the last two years, while others continue to flourish."
"Because Mystra doesn't resort to buying worshipers with misleading dreams of wealth and power, as do the other gods," Corene objected. "You can't be blamed for that."
"Perhaps not, but that doesn't change facts," said the patriarch. "Before allowing the gods back into the planes, their overlord made it clear their status and power would depend upon the faith of the mortals who worship them.
Mystra's church is smaller than Cyric's. And that means I've allowed Our Lady's foulest enemy to outstrip her power."
"But you've always said that the Goddess of Magic is special-"
"I know what I've said, but the truth is that I'm failing," Adon replied. He turned his scar toward Corene and pointed a finger at it. "And this is the symbol of my inadequacy."
"If what you say is true, what are we doing in this forlorn place?" Corene asked. "We should be back in Arabel, converting the masses to Our Lady's cause."
Adon shook his head. "That isn't Mystra's will," he said. "In a dream, she made her wishes clear. I must lift the curse afflicting this village-whatever it is."
The novice shook her head. "The will of the gods is difficult to comprehend."
'True, but in this case I think I understand Our Lady's design," Adon said. "We cannot hope to contend with the priests of the other churches. Chauntea gives her worshipers bountiful crops. Helm protects his followers from harm. Lliira promises her devotees a lifetime of bliss. As clerics of Mystra, we have nothing to offer except a lengthy and difficult study of the mysteries of magic."
"But the rewards-"
"Are a long time in coming and difficult to grasp," Adon interrupted. "No-if I've learned one thing since becoming a patriarch in this church, it's that we won't earn worshipers for Mystra by competing with other religions. Instead, we must try something different-something like what Our Lady sent me here to do."
'To lift a curse?" Corene asked.
"That's only the beginning," Adon said. "What's most important is what happens later."
Corene looked puzzled. "Now I'm having as much trouble understanding you as I do the gods."
The cleric smiled. "That's because I haven't told you the most important part of Mystra's plan," he said. "After I remove the curse, we'll convert the villagers to the Church of Mysteries. I've selected you to administer the priory we'll build here-if we succeed."
Corene looked flattered for a moment, then an expression of understanding came over her face. "You mean stay behind?" she gasped. "We're over a hundred leagues from anything that could be called a city!"
"Relax," Adon said. "The assignment isn't permanent. I'll replace you in a few years-"
"Years!" the novice screeched. "You can't do this!"
"I've done it already," Adon said. "There's no use arguing. This is where Our Lady needs you, and this is where you'll stay."
Corene downed her wine in one swallow. "Are you doing this because I mentioned your scar?" she demanded, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her robe.
"It has nothing to do with anything you've said during our journey, though you've certainly given me reason enough to chastise you," Adon replied. "I selected you for this task before we left Arabel. "
Corene narrowed her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me then?"
"Because I know how much you love the city," he said. "You would've complained for the whole journey, and maybe even tried to avoid it altogether."
"I might have," she agreed. "Throwing myself into the Starwater doesn't seem an unreasonable alternative."
"I'm sure there's no need to remind you of your vows," Adon said.
"I couldn't forget them if I wanted to-which, at the moment, I do," sighed Corene, though both knew she really didn't mean it.
Despite her disappointment, the novice remained as radiant as ever. His heart softened by her beauty, Adon tried to console her. "I know this assignment will be difficult for you," he said. "But it requires someone with an independent spirit. That's why I chose you."
Corene did not answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the far edge of the veranda. Adon turned to see what had captured her attention. There, standing just inside the cafe's entrance, was a handsome newcomer. The man had striking features, with high cheekbones, a dark brow, and a roguish mop of auburn hair that hung down to his collar. His figure was trim and solid, with broad shoulders covered by a fur-lined cape and a narrow waist entwined by a cummerbund of the finest purple silk. Ignoring Aden's presence, the fellow flashed a scoundrel's smile at Corene.
The newcomer moved toward the back of the veranda. At the same moment, Sarafina stepped out of the kitchen with a covered basket. As soon as her eyes fell on the stranger, the basket slipped from her hands, spilling slices of dark bread over the floor. She backed toward the door, yelling, "Father, come quickly!"
"What's wrong?" Adon asked, rising to his feet. "Do you need help?"
The stranger paused to sneer at him. "If you know what's good for you, traveler, you'll tend to your own business."