Jedidiah looked pained, but the paladin put him at his ease. "I'm sorry. I won't follow you through the gate," she said. "Take care," she added. She embraced the older priest.

Jedidiah smiled grimly. "It's been an honor traveling with you, Holly Harrowslough," he said and left her alone with his student.

Holly turned to Joel and gave him a quick hug. It occurred to the Rebel Bard that, while she had embraced Jedidiah like a father, she treated him with maidenly modesty. For the first time, the bard thought of her as a pretty girl and not simply a warrior. He smiled shyly and wished her luck. Then he turned to follow Jedidiah down the sand dune.

When Joel and Jedidiah came aboard, the banelich was smiling. It looked exceedingly pleased with itself. Walinda looked at the gate with excitement in her eyes.

"I give you leave to heal my slave's injuries," the banelich said to Joel. "If it pleases you," it added with a smirk. Then it disappeared into the ship's cabin. The spelljammer rose slowly and began to turn toward the gate.

"Should I heal her arm?" Joel asked Jedidiah in a whisper, uncertain how his god would feel about his offering aid to the priestess of Bane.

"I think that would be a good idea," Jedidiah said, but he didn't elaborate.

Joel prayed over Walinda's bandages. Blue healing energy flowed from his hands over the priestess's arm. Carefully he unwrapped the bandages. The healing was perfect. The skin on the priestess's arm was soft and smooth, but there were bruises beneath the skin that were too old to have been caused by Bear. Joel remembered that when she had fought the Xvimists for entry into the Flaming Tower, she had worn bracers. "The banelich did this to you, didn't it?" Joel asked, feeling sympathy for the woman despite himself.

"Yes," the priestess replied. "It is his right," she said with the far-off look and smile of a woman smitten.

Joel turned away in disgust, not wishing to hear a single word more.

Slowly the ship moved toward the Cat's Gate. Joel looked back and caught a glimpse of the paladin watching them leave. He raised his hand to wave good-bye, but in the next instant, the ship was bathed in a green radiance and he could see nothing beyond the light. A dizzy sensation came over him as the ship crossed from the Realms to a new plane.

From the dune above, Holly watched as Jas's spelljammer seemed to be consumed with green fire. As it passed between the gate's pillars, it disappeared. Even as she watched, sand began drifting back into the gate, filling up the space between the pillars.

Holly sighed. There was no sense following them. Jedidiah had been right. She'd never keep up with the spelljammer. She was almost ready to wish she hadn't remained silent about Jas and the holy water. "If only there was another way to follow them," she muttered.

"Well, actually, there is," a melodious voice called out from behind her.

Holly jumped and wheeled about. Perched on the top of the dune was a large bird. As she watched, the bird spread its tail feathers in a magnificent display of yellow, crimson, and magenta. It was a ruby peacock, Lathander's bird.

Holly felt a great blast of hot wind, just as she had in her last two visions. She dropped to one knee and bowed her head.

"I bring word for you from Lathander," the bird chirped. "He is most pleased with your actions in his name. You've done as well as can be expected for someone with your limitations. Lathander has chosen to reward your efforts with a chance to serve him further."

"I live to serve," Holly whispered modestly.

"The Hand of Bane is in Sigil. You must go there and find it."

"I don't know the way," Holly said.

The peacock's tail began to glow brightly and grew as hot as the sun. The tail flared and became an arched doorway. A red light, like the setting sun, glowed in the archway.

"Take this door to Sigil," the peacock's voice commanded.

Holly looked back at the tarp shelter where Jas rested. "But my friend is wounded. I have to wait for help so she'll be safe," the paladin explained.

"Come now, Holly Harrowslough," the bird said softly. "Your god needs your services. Do you deny your god?"

"I need to make sure my friend is all right," the paladin said.

"I will watch over her," the bird's voice offered, "even though she does not follow our master. I will make sure she awakes safely."

"Thank you," Holly said. She climbed to the top of the dune, took a deep breath, and plunged into the crimson portal.

The doorway flashed gold, then transformed back into a ruby peacock. The large bird shrank until it was the size and shape of a cardinal, then hopped up to the edge of the tarp to watch over Jas's inert form.

Shortly after dark, the winged woman stirred, called out Holly's name, and sat up. She blinked in the darkness, then lay back down to sleep again.

Having fulfilled the letter of its promise, the bird flew off toward the east. It passed over a group of human riders, dressed in black armor, whose leader wore the green and black of Iyachtu Xvim. The riders were heading west toward Cat's Gate. At the speed they traveled, they would reach the gate before dawn.

As the spelljammer passed through the gate into the lands beyond, Joel felt a jolt to his equilibrium. The ship's bow pitched upward, as if it had encountered a wave at sea. As the ship shot up into the sky, Joel fell backward and slid back into the cabin. Jedidiah, who had managed to grab the ship's rail, cried out, "Level her out!"

The ship's bow came down, pitched forward slightly, then leveled off again. Joel pulled himself shakily to his feet and made his way back to Jedidiah's side, clinging to the rail like a seasick novice. The tusk throne in which Walinda sat must have been fastened to the deck, for it remained upright. The priestess clung to the chair's armrests, looking startled. "What was that?" Joel asked. Jedidiah pointed back toward the magical gate. While it had been perfectly perpendicular to the ground back in the desert, here it had tilted backward forty-five degrees, so they had entered the Outlands at a steep angle in relation to the earth.

"That explains the sand," Jedidiah muttered.

"What?" Joel asked.

"The sand burying the gate back in the desert," the older priest explained. "It should have spilled out onto this side of the gate, blocking our entrance into this plane, but the way the gate is tilted on this side, any sand that passes through it falls right back to the other side."

"How did the gate get tipped like that?" Joel wondered.

"Judging from the land about us," Jedidiah replied, "I'd say it's the natural state of things."

Joel surveyed the world he'd just entered. "The natural state of things" seemed to be quite unnatural. It was as if some god had strewn the geographical features about at random. Tall, spindly mountains rose from perfectly level plains without a hint of a foothill about them. A stone ledge, wider than the base of the peak it surrounded, jutted out like a shelf mushroom on a tree. Several peaks bent over and downward, like trees growing on a windy slope. Rivers originating from nowhere meandered about and ended without outlet; one stream even circled back on itself. Lakes dotted mountain plateaus. A swamp grew out of a hillside. Fields had been tilled in serpentine squiggles. Trees were planted to spell out entire lines of unknown script.

The colors of the land were unusual as well-pale and indistinct. When Joel focused on any one feature of the landscape, its color seemed to blur with the background.

"Painted by a mad and myopic god with a muddy palette," Jedidiah joked. "Or maybe it's just faded from a thousand too many launderings, eh?"