The liquor was my fault," Jedidiah admitted. "I asked Shishi to provide her with some. I sensed she would be amenable to a little bottled warmth. I hoped she might be having a crisis of faith and would admit it to you in a weak moment."

Joel shook his head. "No such luck. She wanted someone to stand beside her in awe of Bane's power, to share her triumph with a little celebration. I suggested that Bane-the real thing, not the lich-might be a desperate coward, and she stalked off. If the door didn't slide, she would probably have slammed it behind her."

"You don't think maybe she overreacted for a reason?" Jedidiah asked.

"Because she knew the banelich was listening?" Joel asked.

"No," Jedidiah replied. "Because she secretly suspects that Bane may not be all she hopes for."

Joel had to mull that one over for a minute. "I'm not sure," he said finally. "I just can't understand why she tolerates the banelich's treatment of her."

"If it really holds the essence of Bane, the banelich makes her feel strong, despite its abuse of her. When we first met the banelich, remember how it painwracked Jas and Holly, but you managed to stand against its power?"

Joel nodded with understanding. "I looked at you and felt strong," he said. "But I didn't know you were a god then."

"It doesn't matter," Jedidiah said. "You took strength from my presence. Walinda would feel the same in her god's presence."

"Maybe she just thinks she's stronger," Joel said. "She mentioned that Bane couldn't grant her spells when the banelich was in the astral plane," Joel said. "You don't suppose that Bane has never been the one to grant her spells, do you? Isn't there some spell that allows a priest to give spells to someone who isn't a priest?"

"Yes," Jedidiah said. "But that still leaves the question of who's giving the banelich its own spells."

"I hadn't thought of that," Joel said.

"Walinda's still sleeping. Let's go out in the garden for breakfast," Jedidiah said.

Joel followed Jedidiah into the garden. On the little island in the middle of the pond, someone had set a tray with bread and honey and milk and berries. After they had eaten, Joel related in detail his conversation with Walinda. When he mentioned Walinda's comment about the banelich keeping its heart in a silver box, Jedidiah sat straight up and his eyes widened. A low whistle escaped his lips.

"I never imagined just how crazy the banelich really was," Jedidiah said.

"Why? What does the silver box mean?" Joel asked.

"It's his phylactery," Jedidiah explained. "It holds a lich's immortality. A lich usually keeps it hidden carefully away. If you destroy a lich's body, it reforms in a day or so around the phylactery. The only way to really kill the lich is to destroy its phylactery. By carrying it with him, the lich is taking a tremendous risk. If he's killed, he won't be able to come back."

"Then it would be easy to kill him?" Joel asked excitedly.

Jedidiah shook his head. "A phylactery explodes when it's destroyed. Kills anyone near it. It would definitely destroy the finder's stone. The lich is so arrogant about its power, it doesn't believe anyone would dare attack it."

"Or it could just be too paranoid to give the phylactery to Walinda," Joel supposed.

Jedidiah nodded. "It wants her completely enslaved to its will. We were talking about the strength Walinda feels when she's near the lich. I think her longing for that strength is one of the reasons the banelich insisted on sending her with us," the older priest said. "Despite the talk about her 'supervising" us, it has to know she's no match for the two of us should we decide to take the upper hand. It's relying on her desire for Bane's presence to strengthen her loyalty. Of course, it's playing a dangerous game, risking her soul with heretics like us."

"Why?" Joel asked.

"Not being a god, the banelich can't feel it, but the strengthening cuts both ways. Walinda can strengthen Bane with her devotion. Without it, the resurrected god will be weakened."

Joel looked up at Jedidiah curiously. "Do you feel strengthened by my devotion?"

Jedidiah nodded. "They say that every time someone mentions a god's name, whether in curse or in prayer, he is strengthened. Without his name being spoken, a god fades. But the prayers of the faithful, particularly the prayers of a priest, are much more important. And when those prayers come from the god's chosen priests, that brings a special power." Jedidiah paused and looked out over the water. "That's why I had to stand up to the banelich in the desert when you called on me," he continued, "even though you used my false name. The strength you made me feel was something my heart couldn't deny, even though my reason told me I was taking a tremendous risk."

"Didn't you care about Jas or Holly?" Joel asked with a stab of irritation.

"Yes, but not enough to risk you. That's why I'm going to Sigil with you, because I can't bear to risk having you going in alone."

"How will you be able to do that?" Joel asked, suddenly uneasy, remembering that Jedidiah had said he had a reckless trick that might get him into the City of Doors.

"First do me a favor. Sing me the tulip song."

Joel's scrunched his face up in confusion.

"Humor me," Jedidiah asked.

The Rebel Bard sighed. He cleared his throat. Then he sang, no longer hesitating over the oddness of the tune or the words. He sang the song with confidence from beginning to end.

"Excellent," Jedidiah said. He stepped out of the pavilion and pulled the saurial's half of the finder's stone from his boot.

Jedidiah uttered some words completely unknown to Joel. Then he began singing a scale, each note perfect and distinct, his voice rising over and over again. As he sang, his body began to steam, just as it had when Joel had watched him store his power into his own half of the finder's stone. Now, instead of blue, the steam was a myriad of colors, ranging through the whole spectrum, as if a rainbow were flowing from his body and being sucked up by the stone.

Joel watched in fascination until Jedidiah swayed and nearly fell forward into the pond. The young bard leapt up and steadied his god with his hands on his arms. Jedidiah looked exhausted. He also looked old-not as old as when Joel had first met him, but older than he had appeared moments ago. There was something else odd about him. Somehow, to the young priest, he no longer seemed like Finder.

'Jedidiah," Joel asked in a frightened whisper, "what did you just do?"

"Since gods can't get into Sigil, I stopped being a god," the old man explained. "Remember when I told you that the stolen half of the finder's stone holds the power that give me the godly abilities to sense what's going on around me, and around you, and the ability to teleport and to cast any spell?"

Joel nodded.

Jedidiah held up the finder's stone. "Well, now this half of the stone contains the power to use all the abilities that I had left-all my remaining godly endowments: my ability to grant you spells, my ability to shapeshift, even my immortality. Now I should be able to get into Sigil… I hope."

"But-but-" Joel stammered, "how could you be so reckless? What if something happens to you? You could die!"

"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," Jedidiah said. "But if it does, then this can help you to resurrect me. Just as the Hand of Bane can restore Bane, this stone will restore me. You and Copperbloom must take the stone to the astral plane, find my body, and sing the song for my rebirth."

"Why couldn't you just let me go to Sigil alone with Walinda?" Joel asked in exasperation. He pulled his hands way from Jedidiah's arms. "Don't you think I can handle the job?"

"Joel, there are going to be protections around the Hand of Bane. Some guardian, probably several. That's why Bane needs us to get it. Why risk his priestess's life when he can risk mine or yours? And besides that danger, you'd still have Walinda to contend with. She's a vicious, selfish woman, determined to have her way. She maybe without spells, but she is by no means powerless. She would arrange some way to keep you for herself whether you were willing or not. Or if Bane requested it, she would relish sacrificing you, in the most horrible manner imaginable, to gain his favor."