Chapter 55: Taking Chances
Imoen and Alora sat on a low wall outside the Iron Throne complex, idly swinging their legs back and forth. It was a warm, sunshiny day, and they'd done much better than expected with their simple disguises; dressed in plain tunics, plain leggings, and cowled hoods that completely covered their distinctive hair, nobody in the complex had suspected that the two girls were not the messengers they pretended to be. They had been barred from the upper floor, of course, but they'd learned quite a bit from some of the chattier guards, as well as from the messages a few merchants had asked them to deliver.
Now all they needed was a good meal.
"The Low Lantern would probably be closest, but I don't want seafood," Imoen said.
"And smells bad there, it does!" Alora said. "Across town we can go; I am not tired at all!"
"Well, how about some of those pies from the Blushing Mermaid?" Imoen suggested with an impish grin. Alora immediately burst into a fit of giggles.
As they had all discovered last night, the mermaid had good reason to blush; the inn was decorated with a lot of deep red curtains and naughty paintings, and by the sound of it, there were revelers both upstairs and downstairs from the common room. They had ordered the spiced meat pies from a serving girl with a large chest in a too small blouse. At that point, Ember had been a bit worried about what the pies might be like, but when the food arrived, it seemed just fine; the spices were a bit unusual, but a pleasant warmth had spread through Imoen from the very first bite.
After the third bite, Imoen had started to feel a bit restless, and Edwin, still on his first mouthful, had announced that at least four of the spices were known aphrodisiacs. Alora, who had scarfed down almost a third of a pie, had turned beet red and shoved the dish away from her with both hands. They had left the partially eaten pies behind and gone to the Elfsong for a safer meal, but Imoen had felt antsy the entire evening, and Alora hadn't been able to sleep until well past midnight.
"How did Eddie know about the spices?" Alora asked as soon as she stopped giggling.
"Well, you know what they say about Thayvians, right?" Imoen said.
"What do they say?"
"Oh, that they're as redblooded as their robes, that they know all about lovemaking, that they spend time with gasping concubines... at least, that's what Eddie says. I haven't met any other Thayvians, so he just might be exaggerating," Imoen said with a small grin.
Alora's mouth became an O. "Dappled dancing donkeys!" she exclaimed. "But..."
"But what?"
"He never really acts like that, does he? Confused, am I!"
Imoen shrugged. "I don't think he likes the courtesans here. 'Barbaric simians, all of them'," she said, imitating Edwin's accent. "I heard him compare a courtesan to a cow once, you know."
Alora burst into another fit of giggles, and was still laughing when Imoen saw a young boy come running up the street. He looked to be about thirteen, and he was crying his eyes out.
"Heya!" Imoen called out to the boy, who stopped abruptly in front of them. His scrunched up face was the most miserable thing Imoen had seen in a long time. "What's wrong?" she asked gently.
"I... we... oh, everything!" the boy wailed.
"There, there, it'll be all right," Alora said, patting the boy's hand.
"No, it won't!" the boy all but shouted.
"If you calm down and tell us what's wrong, maybe we can help," Imoen said.
The boy drew a deep breath and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve. "M-my name is Varci," he said. "Casson and I were just fooling around. We didn't mean any harm!"
"Of course not," Imoen said. "What happened?"
"We just wanted to look at the pools at the Water Queen's house. We snuck in, but they saw us and chased us and Casson slipped and fell in the water. He's dead!" Varci burst into tears. Alora cried out in dismay and wrapped her arms around the boy's legs.
"They took him inside," Varci continued between sobs. "I asked them to give me his body, but they just glared at me and carried him away."
"The Water Queen, would that be Umberlee?" Imoen asked.
Varci nodded. "If only I had his body, I could try to make things right, but they are priestesses and I am just a boy. I can't do anything."
"Maybe I can," Imoen said.
---
The temple of Umberlee had no real floor. Instead, there was a large pool of water, crisscrossed by walkways. The air inside was cool, and blue reflections from the pool played across the marble walls. Imoen involuntarily pulled her cowl closer.
"Scared, am I," Alora whispered.
"It'll be all right. Just let me do the talking," Imoen said. Not that I really want to, either.
One of the blue-robed priestesses approached them. "For what purpose do you visit the Bitch Queen?" she demanded.
Imoen cleared her throat. "We wish to see the priestess Tenya," she said, trying to sound as severe as the priestess. Please please please let her be here already!
"Tenya? Wait here and I will get her for you," the priestess said, and strode off. Imoen breathed a quiet sigh of relief and lowered her hood so that her face and hair would be fully visible.
A few minutes later, the priestess returned with a young girl in blue robes in tow.
"Hi, Tenya," Imoen said, raising a hand and waving slightly, "remember me?"
"Yes, I remember you," the girl said. "The Mother and I expected to see some of you again at some point. I suppose you wish to collect some sort of payment, hmmm?" The other priestess wandered off down a walkway, no doubt to tend the water or something like that.
"Er, yes," Imoen said. "but I don't want money, or anything like that. There is a boy who came here and was killed. I just want his body back. If you'll give it to me, we'll be even."
Tenya snorted with amusement. "You do not ask for much, do you?" she said, and walked off in the direction of the other priestess. They talked quietly for a while, then Tenya returned.
"You may have him. I warrant you will try to resurrect him, but the lesson is learned. Death changes one, especially one so young. I know of this like no other," the young priestess said as she led Imoen and Alora down one of the walkways.
"Resurrect?" Alora whispered to Imoen.
"Maybe Varci knows a way," Imoen whispered back. They stopped outside a small alcove, and she glanced inside.
The body of a boy, around ten years old, lay on a slab of marble. His eyes and mouth were open, and his skin had a deathly blue pallor. Imoen couldn't tell if it the colour was all his own, or if the cold light inside the temple made him look even bluer. She covered her mouth with her hand.
"Take the child, and go," Tenya said.
Cringing, Imoen walked into the alcove and lifted the body up from the marble slab. He felt cold as ice, and was much heavier than she expected. Alora hurried in behind her and lifted the boy's legs, and together they managed to maneuver the body out of the alcove. The walkways bobbed gently up and down beneath their feet as they carried the boy to the main door.
"Our score is settled," Tenya said at the temple gate. "Leave, and never darken these halls again... unless summoned!" She walked back into the temple and closed the gates behind her, leaving Imoen and Alora alone on the street with the dead boy.
"Now what?" Alora asked wearily.
Imoen looked around; there was no sight of Varci. "Varci?" she called out. The boy immediately stood up from behind a barrel across the street.
"You got him back!" Varci cried out. "I may yet repair the damage I have caused!"
"Do you know someone who might resurrect him?" Imoen asked.
"His father is Lord Priest Tremain Belde'ar of the church of Tymora," Varci explained. "If anyone can bring Casson back, he can."
"Why were you so worried, then? They would have let his father have him, I am sure!" Alora said.
The boy shook his head. "A Lord Priest of Tymora cannot ask for trivial favors from the church of Umberlee. There'd be all kinds of complications, even if the other priests were to allow it."
Trivial? Imoen shook her head. "Let's just get him to his father, then. Where is he?"
"He'll be in the temple, near the Hall of Wonders," Varci said.
Imoen frowned. "I'm not sure we can carry his body that far, unless you're stronger than you look," she told Varci.
"Hm... I suppose I'd better bring his father here, then. Will... will you wait here with Casson?" Varci asked.
"Of course!" Alora said.
"I'll go fetch him. I won't be long! He... he doesn't know yet," Varci said with a worried frown.
"Just hurry back," Imoen said. Varci thanked her nervously, burst into fresh tears, and ran up the street towards the inner city.
While Alora cried softly, Imoen looked at the body. It was strange, being so close to a dead child; strange and unpleasant and somehow familiar. She didn't like it one bit. "Let's get him into the shade," she told Alora. Together, they carried the boy to a bench on the north side of a wall. The boy's eyes were still open; Imoen ran her hand across his face and gently closed his eyelids. It helped a bit, but not enough. She took off her cowl and used it to cover his face.
An eternity of a half hour later, Varci returned with a man in silver and blue robes. "Casson!" the man cried out, and kneeled beside the bench. "Oh Casson..." Imoen and Alora backed away while Tremain cried over his son.
After a while, the priest stood up and wiped his eyes. "I must bring his body home, that I might restore his life to him - if Our Smiling Lady wills it," he told Imoen and Alora. "Varci told me what you have done. If you would come with us, I will reward you whether I am able to revive him or not."
"I just want to know if he'll be all right," Imoen said.
"Me too!" Alora added.
The priest was a strong man. He scooped the boy up in his arms and carried him through the streets to the inner city as easily as he would a feather. He was a fast man, too; Imoen had some difficulty keeping up, and Alora had to outright run as they followed him to a small brick house. Varci opened the door and led them all inside.
"The moment has come. Please, no noise. I must concentrate," the priest said. Varci stood quietly next to Imoen, looking very sad and pitiful. She reached out and squeezed his hand, smiling encouragingly. A smaller hand reached out for her other hand, and she squeezed that as well. Standing like that, holding Varci's hand on one side and Alora's hand on the other, Imoen watched with rapt attention as the priest proceeded with the resurrection. It was a lengthy, complicated spell, involving a lot of words and a small bag of diamonds, and when it was done, Tremain sagged with exhaustion.
Nothing happened. Seconds passed, and all Imoen could hear was the pounding of her own pulse. Then, Casson coughed.
"Blessed be Our Smiling Lady! He lives!" the priest cried. "Son, can you hear me?"
"Father, I... what's going on?" the boy asked. He was still pale, but he was no longer blue, and the strangeness of death was completely gone from his face. Imoen felt like a heavy weight was lifted from her chest.
"Oh my dear dear boy..." Tremain said, "you are IN SUCH TROUBLE! What in all the planes were you thinking, child?! So help me, if turning you over my knee wouldn't kill you outright, you'd jump black to go right to blue!"
"What... but... but it wasn't my faul..." the boy protested. Varci let go of Imoen's hand and shrank back against a wall as if he wanted to be invisible, which he probably did.
"Oh no you don't! If you want to play the odds, you had best be sure you take responsibility for yourself! The Goddess of Luck and Adventure does not endorse DUMB luck or foolish risks! I swear, if your mother were alive to hear about this she'd drop dead where she stood, and THEN I'd have to raise her TOO! Do you have any idea what this spell takes out of a person?!"
"But I... we... I'm sorr..." the boy started as his father cast a healing spell on him.
"Not another word, young man!" Tremain said, pointing sternly towards the stairs. "You're off to your room and see if I let you out before you're four score and twenty! March!"
"But... I... aw..." Casson mumbled as he trudged up the stairs.
"Varci," the priest said, turning towards the other boy, "thank you for your part in salvaging this situation. I expect you to tell your father about what happened today - and I will know if you do not! - and I will leave your punishment to him."
"Yes, sir," Varci said nervously. "Thank you so much for your help!" he told Imoen and Alora, and bolted out the door.
"I don't think I've seen him walk at a normal pace at all," Imoen remarked. "I'm so glad everything turned out all right!" she told Tremain.
The priest smiled. "Words cannot express my gratitude to you," he said. "Many a Tymoran will look favorably on you for what you have done today."
"Happy to help, we were!" Alora exclaimed.
"Still, I must insist upon rewarding you. There must be something I can do for you; name it, and I will do my best to fulfil your wishes!" the priest said.
Imoen and Alora exchanged glances. "There is one thing, I suppose," Imoen said.
"What is that?" the priest asked.
"Hungry, we are! What's for lunch?" Alora asked with a broad grin.
Tremain laughed. "My larder is all yours!"