"Dark and empty!" she yelled as she threw her hands in the air. "Why this now, when I'm next to useless?"
Tazi paced back and forth, unwelcome thoughts pouring in. She couldn't fathom what kind of dealings Steorf might have had with Ebeian, but Tazi was certain that this was not a chance encounter between the two of them.
Why wouldn't Ebeian have told me if he and Steorf were working on something together? she thought.
It was true that she had cooled many of her relationships after her injuries at the hands of the shadow demons, and it had been many months since she and Ebeian had shared any real time together. She'd shut everyone out as she struggled with her loss of ability and confidence. When she thought more seriously about it all, Tazi realized that she had let all of her associations drift away and she really didn't have any idea what any of them were doing with their lives. The more that fact sank in, the more she realized she didn't know what some of them might be capable of.
"Look at Steorf," she pondered aloud. "In just the short time we were together tonight, he demonstrated more skill than I've ever seen in him before. Everything he did came so easily. Granted," she argued with herself, still pacing, "they were all minor spells but just how strong has he become? Just what is he capable of doing?" She moved back over to sit on the bed and looked down at Ebeian's delicate face.
"I know you would be absolutely mortified if you could see what a mess this place is," Tazi chuckled, trying to keep a grip on her emotions.
In a twisted way, it did seem as though someone had scattered his remains as though, in death, he wanted to mock the way Ebeian had chosen to live.
And how many knew that quirk about him? she pondered.
"I will find out who did this to you and make him pay," Tazi vowed quietly.
"This doesn't seem to be working," Tazi whispered.
"Give it some more time," Steorf replied.
"It's nearly moondark now, and you arrived with this cleric-" she nodded her head toward the disciple of Mystra-"around midnight. How much more time do you need?"
"This is not an easy spell," he answered. It was hard to tell, but Tazi thought Steorf sounded irritated. "I already explained that to you. Have some patience, for once."
Before Tazi was able to shoot back a retort, the cleric of Mystra interrupted them.
"It would be very helpful if one of you could tell me who Ebeian's patron deity was."
"Thazienne should know that," Steorf said, turning to face the fuming Uskevren. "I believe you were closest to him."
His almost sarcastic tone was not lost on Tazi. The night was weighing on both of them, and it showed.
"It may have been Lathander, but that was something we never talked about," she said, directing her answer to the cleric. "I'll see if there's anything among his possessions that might give us a clue, but don't count on it."
As Tazi started to rummage through Ebeian's meager personal belongings again, she looked at Steorf with new eyes. In the hours that had passed since he had gone in search of the cleric, Tazi had played out several scenarios in her mind. She finally concluded that Steorf would not have gone to all the trouble of finding a cleric if he himself had had a hand in Ebeian's murder. It would have been near to impossible to find a liar amongst those who served Mystra to aid him in some type of subterfuge, but she was troubled that it took the presence of a priest to prove Steorf's innocence to herself. While she might grant him the benefit of the doubt regarding Ebeian's death, she was still too proud and angry to ask what his business with the elf had been. Perhaps that was best left a mystery, for what would it matter now?
She also knew she was becoming unjustly impatient with the cleric. These things did take time. While Tazi didn't bother much with religious matters, she was not ignorant of them. Still, it had been many hours, and the first thing Steorf and the cleric did when they arrived was to shut the windows and fill the room with burning incense. From the stench of decay to that perfumed odor was not an improvement. It was enough to make most sick to their stomach and Tazi probably would have been ill had she eaten much at the Kit. She almost wished the two would ask for a brief break… anything to step out of that place for a moment or two.
But if the men wouldn't leave, neither would Tazi.
"I'm afraid there's nothing here," she said to the cleric.
The older man turned to face her. Neither Steorf nor he had bothered with any introductions, so Tazi didn't know his name. His purple robes with the seven stars and red mist clearly marked him for what he was, and that was enough. Tazi wished everyone could be so clearly labeled and known, inside and out. She was half-sick of secrets.
"I am sorry it distresses you to be here," he told her, and Tazi was startled that her discomfort was so obvious to him, "but this is difficult."
Steorf smiled when the cleric seemed to confirm his earlier statement, but his satisfaction was short lived.
As though reading Steorf's mind, the cleric continued, "The spell itself is not too difficult to cast for someone who is accomplished. What makes this challenging is the length of time your friend has been dead and the condition of his body."
The cleric's use of the word "friend" instead of corpse was not lost on Tazi. She was touched that the older man didn't refer to Ebeian as a carcass or some kind of object. He was able to see the elf as a person-or at least recognize that Tazi still did.
"Please keep trying and ignore my impatience," she apologized with a forced smile, and the cleric returned to the task at hand.
With renewed attention, the old man turned to his makeshift altar. Tazi and Steorf had pushed the small dining table in front of Ebeian's bed for his use. The cleric had proceeded to cover that table with several thick, pillar-style candles and a small incense burner. Tazi watched as he pulled a small leather pouch out from under the yoke of his tunic. With a quick snap, he broke the cord that fastened it to his neck and emptied the pouch's contents onto the center of the table. Tazi tried to move forward to get a better look as the cleric fingered through the various baubles, but Steorf motioned for her to hold still. She gave him a dirty look but kept her ground.
The priest studied a small blue crystal he held near the candlelight and seemed satisfied with his selection. Intoning a few words, he tossed the stone straight up into the air. As it fell, he brought his hands together thunderously over it and ground the stone to powder in his clasped grip. Murmuring a prayer to Mystra, he emptied the contents of his hands over one of the candles. The room began to fill with a blue glow. Where Ebeian's head and torso lay, a vague shimmering began.
Tazi let out her breath, unaware until that moment that she had been holding it. With wonder-filled eyes, she turned to the cleric but was startled to see the strain he was already under. His face was covered with a slight sheen of sweat. He kept his hands together in supplication and his eyes squeezed tightly closed. She couldn't quite make out the phrase he kept repeating again and again. Steorf gently touched her upper arm, and she turned her attention back to the glowing shape. A gasp escaped her as she saw Ebeian open his eyes.
"We don't have much time," the cleric whispered, teeth clenched. His pain was obvious. "Something is blocking my attempts to reach your friend more clearly. Hurry and ask what you can!"
With that, the cleric began chanting quietly again.
Tazi looked at Steorf. He shook his head and said, "I think it would be better if you talked to it."
"All right," Tazi hissed, "I'll talk with 'it'!"
She turned to the shimmering face of her lover.
"Ebeian?"
There was a moment of silence, and Tazi felt a touch foolish speaking to the elf's torn face. She cleared her throat and was about to speak his name again when a whisper almost like a breeze carried across the room.