"Mialee," Biksel squawked, "our charge has recovered. However, you must attend to yourself. You're shivering."
Zalyn reappeared at the bottom of the stairs, holding up a golden robe that dragged on the wooden steps. "I believe this should fit you, friend Mialee," the cleric offered.
Even though the robe dragged on the floor as Zalyn held it up, Mialee could see it was still very small. The wizard was tall for an elf. Were there no spare elf-sized clothes in this elven temple? Still, it beat the nothing she was wearing at the moment.
The fabric felt strange, but immediately warmed her skin.
"And now for your forehead. Let's see…." Zalyn fumbled in her large bag and produced a scroll. Her mouth moved silently as she went over whatever incantation was written on the document.
Satisfied, Zalyn rolled up the scroll and stowed it in her shoulder bag. "Mialee, if you please," she beckoned. Mialee leaned down so the gnome could reach her injured forehead.
Zalyn whispered another prayer and pressed her palms on either side of the wizard's temple. Mialee waited for the familiar warm tingle of magical healing. And waited.
Nothing happened. The elf waited, and the gnome whispered another soft prayer.
After a full minute, Mialee pulled back. Zalyn shook her head and stared at her hands, then looked intently at Mialee's wound again. She muttered another prayer and thrust the silver crescent around her neck at the elf woman.
Mialee felt a single drop of blood run down between her eyes and onto the tip of her nose. "I don't think it's working," she said.
"I don't understand." The gnome's voice was tinged with frustration. She held the holy crescent in both hands and intoned loudly, "By the power of Corellon Larethian, this wound is healed!"
Mialee touched her forehead. Her fingers came away sticky and red. She sighed. "Zalyn, please. I'll be OK. Maybe a potion?"
"Yes, of course," Zalyn replied. Disappointment covered her face like a mask, but the gnome produced a tiny vial and handed it to Mialee. "Drink this. Normally, I'd recommend a topical salve, I guess, but…"
Mialee snatched the vial, popped the seal, and quaffed the potion before Zalyn could finish. The elf woman felt a tingle on her forehead and wiped her brow with the back of her arm. She gently touched the spot where the raven had collided with her. The skin felt solid.
"Thanks," Mialee said. She threw a glance at the tiny raven slumbering under the icon of the Protector. "How long will we have to wait?"
"I can't say for sure," Zalyn said. "I've never seen something that took such a beating and lived. And a good thing it did, too."
"What do you mean?" Biksel interrupted.
"I think she means that she hasn't yet learned to raise the dead," Mialee said. "Would that be correct, Zalyn?"
"Er, yes," the gnome said sheepishly.
"Why are you the only one in this temple?" Biksel asked.
"The others left. A week ago," Zalyn said. "They headed south."
"Why not you?" Mialee said.
"They didn't need me. 'We've got plenty of rations, and we'll be back by sundown,' the master said. 'You keep watch here. We've no need for a cook,' he said. Happens all the time, frankly."
"You're the cook?" Biksel and Mialee asked simultaneously.
"Not just a cook!" Zalyn objected defiantly. "I study, I learn, I follow the Protector!" The gnome turned her gaze to the floor. "Between meals. But you saw it; I can summon the healing magic."
As if in support, a faint but healthy squawk came from the raven on the pedestal.
"Mialee," the bird said. Its voice was surprisingly soothing. "You are Mialee?"
The elf woman nodded as the bird settled into a perch on the edge of the pedestal. The raven cocked an eye at Mialee's familiar. "And you must be Biksel. Favrid warned me about you. You're rather arrogant, he says."
"Typical," Biksel sniffed.
"Favrid?" Mialee interjected. "Are you his new familiar? Where is he? He was supposed to meet me days ago!"
"I am Favrid's fourth familiar. He summoned me into his service ten years ago, after the death of Ama, my predecessor. I am called Darji," the smaller raven said.
"Where is Favrid, Darji?" Biksel said impatiently.
Darji shuddered. "A bad place," she managed, "but he must be alive."
Mialee opened her mouth to ask another question when they all heard the crash of breaking glass from up the spiral staircase.
"What the-?" Mialee managed.
Darji leaped into the air from the pedestal and started circling the inside of the temple. "I'm sorry," she squawked as she spun overhead, "but I think they've found me."
Zalyn screamed as a dozen flapping shapes with hollow black eye sockets and white-tufted necks exploded from the archway and filled the room with acrid stench. Darkness enveloped Mialee as the torchlight guttered out.
7
"Not much better," Devis said, examining his attire. "But it beats the alternative."
Money was in short supply for the two fugitives, but Devis had scrounged enough for a tunic, pants, and boots. He regretted giving up a weapon in his current situation, but had to admit it was a pretty good deal. He had been able to get a few pieces of gold for the dwarven axe. Neither he nor Diir wanted to part with the crossbows; Devis because he was actually a decent shot with the weapon, Diir for his own, undisclosed reasons.
The money was enough to buy the clothes and one other item besides. The bard absently struck a ringing chord on his cheap, used lute.
It, too, beat the alternative.
The rain had stopped completely, and the clouds had finally broken to let beams of warm sunlight cut the morning chill in the autumn air. Devis noodled an old favorite on the lute as he walked along.
The telltale sign of the Silver Goblet appeared as they rounded a bend in the street. "No sign of the town guard," Devis said, not really expecting an answer.
Diir sniffed the air and nodded.
"Glad you agree," Devis said. "Now let's find out what you and my friend Mialee have in common, shall we?"
They emerged from the Silver Goblet ten minutes later.
Devis couldn't understand it. Gurgitt had been more than happy to let him into Mialee's room, especially after Devis charmed the innkeeper with a song-spell and one of their precious gold pieces. What they found only baffled Devis further.
It might have all made perfect sense to Diir, but the elf didn't say so. He simply insisted that Mialee was not in the room-which was obvious-and that Devis should follow him.
They'd found the door to Mialee's room wide open, as were the shutters on her window. Devis's clothing and gear were still scattered across the floor, along with his equipment and all of the gold he'd won from Muhn, which he was glad to recover. The bard also retrieved his thick leather vest and trusty long sword, which now hung from his belt. But strangely, all of Mialee's things were still there, too, including her rapier, wand, spellbook, and magical components.
She'd simply disappeared. The bird was gone, too. Fortunately, nothing indicated another wight attack, which was a relief. But had Muhn succeeded in capturing the girl?
Devis swung the lute around to his back and pulled the small leather pouch from his belt. Mialee had insisted that the pockets on the pouch held birdseed, but Devis knew enough about wizards to realize that was a bald-faced he. He hadn't had time to grab anything else except a papyrus scroll that confirmed Mialee's story about her missing teacher.
Diir broke into a jog as they neared the northern edge of Dogmar, and Devis had to run to keep up. The elf was leading them to a large, wooden building of undeniable elven manufacture, all curved, golden timber and smooth, polished surfaces. A silver crescent four times as tall as Devis crowned the three-story structure.