"What will you do? Folks will be expecting the sheriff to do something."
"I'm sure I can buy a couple of bags of candy from one of these vendors." Gerard indicated the enterprising sellers who were just beginning to hawk their wares, as they threaded their way through the throngs gathered to watch the procession. "I'll hand the candies out to the children as we pass."
"Capital idea!" beamed Vercleese. "Quiet!" Palin's clerk shrieked above the hubbub just then, and Gerard realized the man had been calling for silence for some while. Amazingly, a hush descended on the officials and dignitaries, perhaps one borne of shock that a mere underling would dare to address them so. The clerk was by now too distraught to notice their censure, however. "Now, is everybody ready?" he asked. When no one dared answer in the negative, he said, "Musicians, begin playing!"
The musicians did so with gusto, most of them mercifully in tune. With the steady beat of Soljack's drum to measure everyone's steps, the procession got under way. Gerard had never felt prouder.
The procession followed a serpentine route that took it through much of Solace. Everywhere along the way, people lined the streets and peered from bridge-walks, greeting members of the entourage and cheering. Gerard saw Laura on the deck outside the main room of the inn and Argyle Hulsey in front of her shop. Brentwood and Dorla Gibbs had come into town, as well as Biggin Styles from his pig farm (the smell of which, clinging to Biggin, kept the area around him relatively clear, despite the otherwise crowded street), Corly Ames, and Trent Linden and his wife. Even Gerard's dancing instructor had turned out for the occasion, tall and haughty as she dabbed self-consciously at a tear.
At one point, the procession wound past the Tomb of the Last Heroes, and Gerard felt a peculiar sense of having come full circle in his journey. He had reached a suitable ending to this stage of his path in life, yet it was also a new beginning. He felt the medallion of office hanging around his neck, a weight now grown familiar and comfortable, and grinned. It was time to update those letters home with a new one relating how things had turned out. This time, however, he felt at ease with where he was and what he was doing. This time, he would actually send the letters to his parents and let them know he would be staying on in Solace.
He saluted his fallen friends as he passed the tomb, thinking especially of Caramon, thanking him for his sage advice when Gerard had first returned to Solace.
They marched all the way to the new temple, where the civic, secular portion of the day's observances con-eluded. As they drew up in the temple grounds before the glistening, newly completed structure, the religious aspect took over. The musicians ceased playing, and a hush fell over the multitude. A reverential awe took hold, replacing the more boisterous procession. Quietly, the town officials and visiting dignitaries led the way up the steps, through the huge double doors, and into the temple entrance hall. On ordinary occasions, worshipers would then file into one of the two worship rooms on either side of the entrance hall, but for such a major ceremony as this, with so many people in attendance, the crowd continued instead through a second set of double doors and into the central chamber of Mishakal.
Pungent incense filled the air, mixing with the smells of new plaster and freshly applied whitewash. Gerard stifled a sneeze that felt too profane for the surroundings. The statue of the goddess dominated the chamber, looking out over her followers with a benevolence that transcended the mere marble of the sculptor's art. Gerard felt a moment of disorientation, remembering the dream he had had of the statue holding the bloody body of Salamon Beach. But all hint of Mishakal's ominous tidings had vanished, and the goddess gazed at him serenely.
Once in the chamber, the worshipers sat on temporary wooden benches constructed just for the dedication, for normally the spacious hall with its domed roof high overhead would be kept free of such ordinary furniture. When the crowd was seated and a hush had descended like a palpable presence over the room, an acolyte sounded a great bronze gong three times. The deep, bass rumble reverberated in Gerard's chest long after the gong was struck.
This was followed by a formal procession of clerics and acolytes from the entrance hall to the foot of the statue of Mishakal. This was a more solemn procession than its civic counterpart. Odila led the grave assembly, dressed in a blazing white robe and bearing a five-foot long blue crystal staff. Of course, it wasn't the Blue Crystal Staff, the one given to Riverwind by a manifestation of Mishakal, but rather a replica, a symbol of the healing power of the goddess. Similarly, the disks Kaleen bore in sober majesty weren't the Disks of Mishakal, those one hundred sixty platinum repositories of sacred learning now housed in Palanthas, but smaller reproductions, crafted just for such occasions of worship as this.
Kaleen looked lovely dressed in her acolyte's robes, Gerard thought. He swallowed past a lump in his throat, realizing how much he would miss her. Still, he realized she had been seeking something all along that Solace couldn't provide, and he was glad she had found what she apparently was looking for. Perhaps in time Kaleen would return, and he would still be there and would see her again.
He felt content to let the future bring what it would in its own good time.
EPILOGUE
That night, Gerard sat in the inn, his earlier elation having slowly evaporated during the long day. The room seemed more crowded than ever, and the chairs and tables were being pushed back to allow room for dancing. In one corner, a lone fiddle player tuned his instrument. From snatches of overheard conversation, Gerard could tell that the temple dedication had gone off gloriously. Solace was justifiably proud of itself.
Late in the day, Gerard had found a merchant bound for Southern Ergoth who had agreed to deliver Gerard's letters for him. The crimes had been solved. He had a job he enjoyed. All in all, he had nothing to complain about.
So why, he wondered, did he feel so low?
People kept stopping by his table, clapping him on the shoulder and congratulating him on solving both murders. They were glad, they said, to have him for their sheriff. Each time, Gerard mustered a smile, thanking his well-wishers for their thoughts. People were even sending over fresh tankards of ale, until Gerard had a veritable wall of them lined up in front of him-far more ale than he dared to drink in one evening. He still got a queasy feeling in his stomach when he recalled the last time he had overindulged in ale.
The first night he had danced with Kaleen.
Someone came to stand by his elbow. Another well-wisher, he thought, and turned with a forced smile to hear what this person had to say. To his surprise, a pretty young woman with fiery red hair hovered there. She smiled nervously. "Will you be having some of Otik's fine spiced potatoes this evening, sir?" she asked.
"Huh?"
"Otik's potatoes, sir. Will you be wanting some?"
Slowly, Gerard realized she must be the new serving maid Laura had hired to replace Kaleen. "Oh, no, thank you." He considered a moment. "But is there some of Laura's chicken and dumplings, by any chance?"
"I believe so."
"I'll have some of that instead."
"Very well. I'll have it right out." The girl curtsied prettily and hurried away.
Gerard watched her go. She seemed very capable, especially given that this was her first night on the job and the inn was as busy as Gerard had ever seen. And she certainly wasn't hard on the eyes.
Gerard found himself looking forward to the upcoming days, when he would make a point of taking his meals at the inn. Things were looking up in Solace, he decided. Yes, things were certainly looking up, indeed!