Saving Solace

CHAPTER 23

Fortunately, Thomas saw the blaze from the checkpoint and delivered the message to Blair right away instead of waiting until midnight. Garth might not have survived otherwise. When Blair arrived, he promptly took charge, summoning a wagon to carry Garth to Mistress Hulsey's shop, and insisting that Gerard and Vercleese accompany them there as well, despite their grumbled protests that they didn't need the aid of a healer for their wounds.

Argyle Hulsey bound Gerard's wound with salve and supported his arm in a sling. He grimaced each time she poked or prodded him.

"And you," Mistress Hulsey went on, turning to Vercleese, "surely you should know better by now, getting into trouble, having already lost an arm."

"Aw, what more could happen?" the knight asked sullenly. "You can't cut the thing off twice, after all." He winced at her roughness as she wrapped his wounded shoulder in linen strips soaked in pungent ointment.

"Go, the both of you," Mistress Hulsey said when she was finished. "Let me see to this other one." She indicated Garth, whom she had already treated sufficiently to keep him from dying. "Maybe he'll be grateful for my services."

"Will he live?" Gerard asked.

With her birdlike manner, Mistress Hulsey cocked her head and considered Garth, who moaned and tossed, still in an unconscious state. "Well, he's badly burned, and he won't ever be quite the same, but yes, I think he'll live. Not that he'll thank you for it, is my guess. Now go. Leave me be in peace."

She shooed them out the door. Gerard arranged to meet in a few hours with Blair and Palin, who had learned of the fire and met them on their way to Argyle Hulsey's shop, then stumbled up to his room at the inn for some much-needed sleep.

He awoke shortly after sunrise, stiff and sore, with burning eyes and a rasping throat. Still, he considered himself fortunate to be alive. He dressed awkwardly, hampered by his injured arm, which hurt more than he cared to admit, and made his way to the jail, where he was to meet the others.

He relieved Tangletoe, who had insisted on guarding the prisoners through the night, and separated the knife and miscellaneous office items from the kender's pockets before sending him on his way. Then he sat down to engage the two by-now-stupefied prisoners in a conversation while he waited for Palin and Blair.

It proved a most fruitful discussion. Threatening to bring back Tangletoe was incentive enough for finally loosening Randolph's and Grudge's tongues.

"So Garth was selling arms to the elves and Samuval, and somehow Sheriff Joyner got suspicious," Palin summarized Gerard's findings a short time later, "and when lie went out to Jutlin's place, they killed him and hid the body in that field."

"Yes," agreed Gerard. "Something like that. We'll get all the details once we track down Jutlin. But that shouldn't be too hard to do. Jutlin'll be lost without his brother helping him out with every decision he has to make."

"And those two in the back?" Palin asked, jerking his head in the direction of the prisoners.

"That's a funny thing," Gerard said, tugging on his singed beard. "The architect's death had nothing to do with Sheriff Joyner's demise, not at all. The architect owed those two-and a couple of others I hope to catch up with later-lots of coin. It seems Beach had been gambling every night, desperate to win, but he kept on losing big. He was in way over his head. This pair warned him, then threatened him, and finally they rigged an accident. I think they only intended to give him a scare, but the situation got out of hand. One way or another, these two are responsible for Beach getting killed and injuring the others."

Palin shook his head in amazement. "How did you get them to confess?"

"Oh, that." Gerard chuckled. "That wasn't me really; it was Tangletoe. Apparently, our two friends back there aren't very musically inclined. Or at any rate, they didn't much care for Tangletoe's flute-playing. In tact, they got a little tired of his company in general.

He's rather talkative, as you know. Anyway I've never seen two criminals happier to see the sheriff get back to the office."

Just then, Cardjaf Duhar burst through the door. "I just heard!" he exclaimed excitedly. "This is marvelous! I hear you've got everyone under arrest and all the cases solved."

"Well, not quite yet," Gerard said modestly. "Not all."

Palin waved several rolled sheets of paper in the air. "Nonsense! False humility! I've got all the writs and warrants made out right here."

"Marvelous! Marvelous!" Duhar went on, looking none the worse for his repeated dunking the day before. "What an excellent sheriff you've turned out to be!"

"Temporary sheriff," Gerard said modestly. "Just temporary."

"Please, no! Not temporary!" said Duhar. "You're the right man for the responsibility. Don't leave Solace. Everyone's always leaving Solace." His tone on the last statement was abruptly rueful. "Give me your word you'll stay on the job!"

"Well…" Gerard said, considering the offer as he looked around the room. Blair looked away, down at his shoes. Palin's eyes were twinkling. Finally, Gerard's gaze returned to Duhar, and he nodded. "Uh, yes. Thank you. I accept your kind offer and will be happy to stay on the job as sheriff of Solace."

In a flurry of mutual admiration, everyone began congratulating everyone else. The mini celebration was interrupted by the sounds of musicians tuning up and crowds gathering outside somewhere in the distance.

"Well, it's a grand day!" Palin exclaimed. "A grand day for Solace!"

"Yes," said Duhar, choking with emotion. He took out a kerchief and blubbered into it, blew his nose, and wiped away a tear. "Though it's a sad day, too, for some of us." He looked up and saw Gerard staring at him, uncomprehending. "Oh my goodness, the procession! have to run!" He dashed out the door.

"What did he mean?" Gerard asked.

Blair shrugged, looking bewildered as well.

Palin was heading toward the door, leaving the scrolls he had signed on the desk. He stopped at the door, pausing just long enough to turn and address Gerard and Blair. "Oh, you two don't know, do you? Of course you don't! Well, you'll find out sooner or later. His beloved daughter Kaleen has joined the holy orders and will leave Solace after the dedication ceremony today, as an acolyte to Odila."

"What?" exclaimed Gerard and Blair together. While both were astonished, Gerard couldn't suppress a grin, while Blair looked crushed.

Palin was already out the doorway, in a hurry to get to the procession, where he was expected to lead the march in his official capacity as mayor.

"Well!" said Gerard, at a loss for words.

"Huh!" said Blair. He stood, shoulders sagging. "I guess I'd best be off as well.

"Not so fast!" Gerard said, waving him back to his chair.

"But-"

"But, nothing. You're staying right here. We have a few things to discuss."

"But-"

Gerard waved his objection away. Awkwardly, he got to his feet and came around the desk to stand in front of Blair. "As you well know, one of the crimes hasn't been solved yet. The knife that someone threw at me"-he fished around and produced the weapon he had liberated from Tangletoe's pouch-"evidently it was intended to scare me into leaving town. Well, it took me a long time to figure out the culprit. I've gone to the bother of having Palin prepare an arrest warrant, with the name of the suspect. I'd like you to deliver this warrant for me."

He handed one of the scrolls to Blair, who was shuffling uncomfortably.

"Take it. There, now open it up," Gerard told the sergeant. "Go ahead. Now read me the name."

With shaking hands, Blair unrolled the scroll, read it silently, and turned pale. His head drooped and he slumped to a chair, letting the scroll tumble to the floor.

Gerard pulled a chair over and sat next to him. "I found out something I didn't know at the fair the other day. You're an expert knife thrower, Blair. You could easily have hit me with that knife if you really wanted to, couldn't you?"

Blair just hung his head lower in shame.

"You were trying to get me to leave town because you thought I was in love with Kaleen, weren't you?"

Blair nodded with a barely perceptible motion.

"Well," Gerard said, retrieving the scroll from the floor and crumpling it up, "we'll let that be our little secret. Kaleen is leaving town, I'm staying as sheriff, and I was never in love with her anyway. At least, I don't think I was!"

Blair looked up, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

"I'm a man who believes in second chances," Gerard went on. "Here's yours. Your job today will be to stay here at the jail and guard these two miscreants, and to make sure everything stays safe and peaceful in town."

"But the procession-" Blair began. "And if all goes well," Gerard continued as if the man hadn't spoken, "you'll still have your job and reputation at the end of the day. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a procession to catch." He hurried out the door.

The procession was being organized (if a term suggesting that much coordination could be applied to the confused milling around Gerard found taking place behind the town hall) by Palin's clerk, a nervous young man driven to distraction. He looked ready to take to his bed for a tenday once this task was complete. Gerard hoped Palin would give him the necessary time off to recover.

Gerard saw the Ostermans talking to Brynn Ragulf, speckled with flour even on this august occasion, and his tiny, earnest-looking wife. Kedrick Tos and Tyburn Price were having an animated conversation, punctuated by considerable laughter, with Cardjaf and Gatrice Duhar. Bartholomew Tucker, his wife on his arm, gave Gerard a guarded nod and went to greet Palin and Usha. Nyland Drebble swaggered about, wearing a little toad-sticker of a sword. Even the explosive smith, Torren Soljack, was there. He spotted Gerard, quickly checked to see whether this time the sheriff was wearing his sword, and gave out a rare smile.

The harried clerk managed to separate Palin and Usha and directed them to climb aboard a heavily decorated wagon that would be drawn at the head of the procession. Behind the wagon marched the visiting dignitaries and members of the town council, followed by the town guard, all of them dressed in their finest uniforms. To the rear of the guardsmen came the musicians, presumably the same ones whose cacophony had assaulted Gerard's ears at the fair the day before. Given that Tangletoe Snakeweed had sweet-talked his way in as one of their number, blowing on his flute like mad, Gerard didn't hold out high hopes for hearing much in the way of melody. But there would be an abundance of enthusiasm. As Gerard watched, the clerk dragged a protesting Torren Soljack over to where the musicians were grouped, gave him a huge drum with which to mark the beat, and scurried off to see to other preparations. Soljack caught Gerard's eyes, grinned and shrugged, giving the drum a few trial thumps.

A squabble broke out as the members of two guilds argued over which group should take precedence in line. The argument ended in a coin toss, and the threat that if the two groups continued to argue, they would both be banned from the procession altogether, a threat that quickly silenced all concerned.

The clerk materialized at Gerard's side. "Sheriff Joyner always used to carry the town banner," he said, thrusting a pole at Gerard. The pole was topped by a white silk banner, onto which a majestic vallenwood was embroidered.

Gerard indicated his right arm, still dangling in its sling. "I don't know. That's my good arm," he explained. "But there"-he scanned the crowd and sighted Vercleese-"there's the man who should carry the banner today."

The clerk looked doubtful, but handed the banner over to Vercleese, who beamed with pride. "But what about you?" Vercleese asked when Gerard drew near.

"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.