“She blotted out the Beloved too, and it all came back to her,” Nightshade reminded him.

Rhys smiled faintly. “We must hope for the best and trust that the gods are with us.”

“Oh, they’re with us, all right,” Nightshade grumbled. “If there’s one thing we’re not short on, it’s gods.”

After Atta gulped her water, Rhys and his companions joined the people standing in line, waiting for a table in the popular inn. The line wound up the long, curving stairway that led to the front door. The last rays of the setting sun turned the sky golden red, gleamed off the leaves of the vallenwood and shimmered in the stained glass windows. People in line were in a good mood. Happy to be finished with the day’s work, they were looking forward to a hearty meal and an evening spent in the company of friends.

“Goldmoon told me stories about the Inn of the Last Home,” Mina was saying excitedly. “She told me how she and Riverwind were brought here miraculously by the blue crystal staff, and how they met the Heroes of the Lance, and how the Theocrat fell into the fire and burned his hand and the staff healed him. And then the soldiers came and-”

“I’m starving,” Nightshade complained. “And this line hasn’t moved one little bit. Mina, if you could just whisk us to the front-”

“No!” Rhys said severely.

“But, Rhys-”

“Race you!” Mina cried.

Before Rhys could stop her, she had dashed off.

“I’ll go get her!” Nightshade offered, and he bolted before Rhys could grab him.

Reaching the stairs, Mina pushed past indignant patrons. Nightshade caused further disruption trying to catch her. Rhys hastened after both of them, apologizing profusely as he went. He collared Nightshade at the door, but Mina was too fast and had already darted inside the Inn.

Several good-natured customers told him he could go ahead of them. Rhys knew he was condoning bad behavior, and also knew he should have scolded both girl and kender and marched them to the back of the line. But, frankly, he was too tired to lecture, too tired to put up with the arguing and the wailing. It seemed easier just to let it go.

Laura, the proprietor of the Inn, was vastly pleased to see Rhys again. She gave him a hug and told him he could have his old job back if he wanted it, and added that he and Nightshade could stay as long as they liked. Laura had another hug for Nightshade, and she was charmed when Rhys introduced Mina, whom Rhys described vaguely as an orphan they had befriended along the way. Laura clucked in sympathy.

“What a state you’re in, child!” Laura exclaimed, looking with dismay at Mina’s dirt-streaked face and tangled hair, her tattered filthy clothes. “And those rags you’re wearing! Mercy’s sake, that chemise is so threadbare you can see right through it.”

She cast Rhys a reproachful glance. “I know you old bachelors don’t know anything about raising little girls, but you could at least have seen to it that she took a bath! Come along with me, Mina dear. We’ll have a nice meal and a hot bath and then off to bed with you. And I’ll see to it that you’re dressed properly. I have some of my niece Linsha’s old clothes packed away. I think they should just about fit you.”

“Will you brush my hair for me before I go to sleep?” Mina asked. “My mother used to brush my hair every night.”

“You sweet thing,” said Laura, smiling. “Of course, I’ll brush your hair-such pretty hair. Where is mother, dear?” she asked, as she led Mina away.

“She’s waiting for me at Godshome,” Mina replied solemnly.

Laura looked considerably startled at this pronouncement, then her face softened. “Ah, you sweet child,” she said gently, “that’s a lovely way to remember her.”

Nightshade had already found a table and was discussing the evening’s offerings with the waitress. Rhys looked about for Gerard, but his usual table was empty. Nightshade tucked blissfully into a large plate of corned beef and cabbage. Rhys ate a small amount, then gave the rest to Atta, who sniffed disdainfully at the boiled cabbage, but wolfed down the corned beef.

Rhys insisted on paying for their room and board by helping in the kitchen. As the night went on, he continued to look for Gerard, but the sheriff never came.

“Small wonder,” said Laura, when she returned to inspect her kitchen and make preparations for tomorrow’s breakfast. “There’s been trouble in Temple Row lately. Oh, nothing serious, mind you. The clerics of Sargonnas and Reorx got into a shouting match and nearly came to blows. Someone threw rotten eggs at the temple of Gilean, and lewd pictures and bad words were scrawled on the walls of Mishakal’s temple. Feelings are running high. The sheriff’s likely out talking to people, trying to keep things calm.”

Rhys listened to this in dismay. He tried to tell himself that this rivalry among the gods could not possibly have anything to do with him or his companions, but he knew otherwise. He thought of Zeboim and Chemosh, both gods trying to lure Mina to join them. Whichever side she chose-darkness or light-she would upset the balance between good and evil, tilt the scales to one side or the other.

“She’s a beautiful child,” said Laura, bending down to kiss the girl’s forehead, as she and Rhys checked on her before going to their rest.

“She does say some strange things, though. Such a vivid imagination! Why, she said that yesterday you’d been in Flotsam!”

Rhys went thankfully to his bed, which Laura had made up in the room next to Mina’s. Atta was just settling herself at his feet, when a shrill scream roused Rhys. He lit his bedside candle and hurried to Mina’s room.

Mina was thrashing about the bed, arms flailing. Her amber eyes were wide open and staring.

“-your arrows, Captain!” she was crying. “Order your men to shoot!”

She sat up, gazing at some horror only she could see. “So many dead. All stacked up… Beckard’s Cut. Killing our own men. It’s the only way, you fool! Can’t you see that?”

She gave a wild shout. “For Mina!”

Rhys took hold of her in his arms, trying to calm her. She fought against him, struck at him with her fists. “It’s the only way! The only way we win! For Mina!”

She fell back suddenly, exhausted. “For Mina…” she murmured as she sank into the pillow.

Rhys remained at her side until he was certain she was once more sleeping peacefully. He asked Majere’s blessing on her and then he went back to his bed.

He lay there a long time, trying to recall where he’d heard the name “Beckard’s Cut” and why it struck a chill to his heart.

“Where are you going this morning?” Nightshade asked Rhys between mouthfuls of scrambled eggs and spiced potatoes. “The Temple of Majere,” Rhys replied.

“What about Mina?”

“She’s in the kitchen with Laura learning to make bread. Keep an eye on her. Give me an hour or so and then bring her to me in the Temple.”

“Will the monks let us in?” Nightshade asked dubiously.

“All are welcome to Majere’s temple. Besides”-Rhys reached out to lightly tap the golden grasshopper the kender wore pinned to his shirt-“the god has given you his talisman. You will be an honored guest.”

“I will?” Nightshade was awed. “That’s really nice of Majere. Be sure and thank him for me. What are you going to tell your Abbott about Mina?” he asked curiously.

“The truth,” Rhys said.

Nightshade shook his head dolefully. “Good luck with that. I hope Majere’s monks aren’t too mad at you for being Zeboim’s monk for a while.”

Rhys could have explained that while the monks might be sad and disappointed at his failings, they would never be mad. He realized that this concept could be difficult for his friend to understand, and he didn’t have time to explain. He was in haste to go the Temple, to beg for forgiveness for his sins and turn for help to those wiser than himself. He was looking forward to being able to rest and find peace in the blessed, contemplative quiet.