"Mystra's magic will protect you from Lord Gorgias," said Adon, one hand casually resting on the head of his mace. "All I need from you is one who'll trust me to prove it."
When none of the women stepped forward to volunteer, Corene moved into the crowd and touched the veil of a thin woman. "Come now, do you wish to wear these masks for the rest of your lives?"
"What's done is done," said the woman. "Sarafina thought she was too beautiful to marry the duke, and now we must all live with the consequences."
"This is not Sarafina's doing!" boomed Adon. "Lord Gorgias cursed your village, and it's cowardice to blame Sarafina because she won't yield to his demands."
"That's easy enough for you to say," yelled a matronly woman. "You don't live in Tegea."
A chorus of agreement answered from the crowd, then another woman said, "Even if you can help us, what happens when you leave?"
"I'll tell you what happens," said the thin woman. "Lord Gorgias punishes us for defying him."
"No, he won't," said Corene, stepping to her patriarch's side. She gave Adon a dutiful glance, then added, "I'll be staying behind to make sure that doesn't happen."
"A lot of good she'll do us," said the matronly woman, glaring at Adon. "If your idea of bravery is to leave a little girl behind to fight the duke, I want nothing to do with you."
"Inside a week, she'll be scrubbing Lord Gorgias's floors and begging for gruel," called another.
"No!" cried Adon. "With the power of Our Lady, she's strong enough to prevail over any foe-even Lord Gorgias."
From the back of the plaza, a familiar voice called, "Then let her prove it." A narrow lane opened in the crowd, and Sarafina walked forward, a pair of empty water pails in her hands. When she reached the basin, she dropped the buckets at Corene's feet, then reached up to her veil. "If you are strong enough to protect us from Lord Gorgias, then make me beautiful again."
"No, Sarafina!" shouted the matron. "If you ask strangers for help, we'll all pay the price."
"At least we still have our hands to work with," cried another woman. "Don't make Lord Gorgias any angrier, or he'll take those away, too."
The thin woman stepped toward Sarafina. "Haven't you caused enough trouble already?"
"I'm suffering the same as you-probably more so, considering the hardship your anger has caused my family's inn," Sarafina replied. "But the duke is evil, and I'd rather die than marry him."
"There are tortures worse than death," said the thin woman. "And your stubbornness is visiting them upon us all."
"If you prize your appearance so highly, then you marry him," countered Sarafina, ripping off her veil. "As for me, I'll parade my ugliness past all the men of the village before I sell my virtue and yield to the duke."
Adon gasped at what the duke's curse had done to Sarafina's face. From the eyes downward, her appearance was that of a monster. She had shriveled green skin, stretched tight over a dozen bony lumps jutting out from her face. Her nose was hideously pointed and covered with carbuncles, while her lips were frozen into an ugly sneer that revealed a mouthful of jagged, yellow teeth. From her chin sprouted a short gray horn, which curled back toward her throat.
All of these deformities, however, could not hide Sarafina's inner beauty. She held her head high and met Aden's gaze without shame, her strength and determination showing in her unwavering brown eyes. In a steady voice, she asked the patriarch, "Now who's gaping?"
The cleric did not look away. "If I am staring, it's because I am captivated by your spirit," he said honestly, stepping toward her. "It's not because the duke's pitiful mask has engrossed me."
"All the same, the people of Tegea won't trust your novice until she proves her power," said Sarafina, facing Corene. "Give me back what Lord Gorgias has stolen."
Corene cast a nervous glance at her patriarch. Adon nodded at her. "Lift the curse," he said. “Trust in Mystra. You have more than enough power."
The novice's eyes ranged over Adon's scar, then she swallowed hard. "If you think so." She laid a hand on Sarafina's deformed face, then spoke her incantation.
A yellow radiance spread outward from the novice's hand and crept across Sarafina's visage. The young woman's skin returned to its normal swarthy color, and the lumpy protrusions covering her face began to subside. The carbuncles on her nose slowly healed, and her gray horn began to soften and shrink.
An astonished murmur rustled through the crowd.
"You see?" cried Adon, facing the women. "Armed with Mystra's magic, even a novice can undo Lord Gorgias's-"
An alarmed cry from Corene cut his statement short. When Adon looked back, he saw that a gray shadow was replacing the golden luminescence of Corene's magic. As it worked its way over Sarafina's face, the young woman's newly restored beauty was replaced with the hideous mask of Lord Gorgias's curse.
When the shadow touched Corene's fingers, she screamed and pulled away. The grayness followed her hand, quickly gliding up her arm. The terrified novice plunged her hand into the water and desperately tried to scrub the thing off, but her efforts were to no avail. The shadow slipped over her shoulder and onto her face. It lingered there for an instant, then faded away as rapidly as it had appeared.
For a moment, Corene remained where she was, staring into the basin's rippling waters. Then, all at once, a horrified howl escaped her lips and she threw herself at Adon. "Forgive me!" she screeched, wrapping her arms around his chest. "It was your scar. It made me doubt Our Lady!"
Adon pried Corene away and looked at her. From her cheeks downward, her skin had become leathery and shriveled. Her button nose had tripled in size and turned red, with gaping pink nostrils larger than those of a swine. Her lips were covered with black bristles and curled back, while a fringe of silky white wool hung from her jawline.
"I understand," Adon whispered. "Don't worry. I'll set things right."
"How?" demanded the matron. "By staying here yourself?"
The patriarch shook his head. "My duties in Arabel-"
"Then I suggest you return to Arabel right away. Just leave us to our troubles," said the thin woman, moving forward. "Now stand aside so I can fill my bucket."
Corene blocked her path. "You don't understand. This failure was mine, not Mystra's."
"Our Lady of Mysteries is the patroness of magic itself," Adon explained. "No mortal's spell can withstand her power."
A deep voice boomed across the plaza. "But your goddess is not here, and I am!"
A hulking, leather-clad figure lumbered out of the lane. Although he had a hunched back and a gnarled frame, he stood half again taller than any normal man. His legs were thin and so badly bowed that he seemed to scuttle rather than walk. One gaunt arm hung so low that his knuckles dragged on the cobblestones, while the other was twisted and held to his chest at an awkward angle.
The newcomer had a face as horrible as any Adon had ever seen. It was impossibly haggard and covered with cracked, black skin. The figure's brow jutted out so far that it cast an impenetrable shadow over his eyes. His nose was as narrow as a dagger blade, his cheekbones were grotesquely misshaped, and a pair of yellow tusks curled up from beneath his lower lip.
Behind the figure stood Broka, wearing his fur-trimmed cape and purple cummerbund. His face remained covered with boils, and his swollen nose and black eyes suggested that he had suffered a harsh beating after returning to Castle Gorgias last night.
As the women began to scurry for their homes, the seneschal yelled, "Stay! The duke wishes you to see what passes here."
The crowd stopped moving instantly, leaving a wide swath of open plaza between the gruesome figure and the patriarch. Adon stepped away from Sarafina. "Lord Gorgias?"