They talked of old times for a while, catching up on news of companions and heroes from the war. "You may even see some familiar faces here for the dedication," Palin finished with a wink in Gerard's direction.

Usha smiled knowingly but said nothing.

Gerard shrugged. He didn't want to play guess-the-secret. "Do you think the sheriffs murder had anything to do with the dedication?" Gerard said, adopting a businesslike tone.

"That's what worries me," Palin said. "There are different factions in town. Some welcome outsiders, some welcome trouble, some just want to be left alone. You'll find as sheriff that your job is to mediate between these groups and get along with all of them. Sheriff Joyner was good at that, very good at his job. Everyone liked him. I can't fathom who had a grudge against him. Oh, the occasional outlaw he caught, maybe, but someone who hated him enough to kill him? It seems so unlikely." He shook his head.

"What about Baron Samuval?" Gerard asked.

Palin paused for a drink of tea then went on. "Oh, Samuval's been quiet lately. Believe it or not, he steered clear of Sheriff Joyner. Still, that's a possibility, though I hate to admit it. Somehow he'll have to be investigated. And there are other possibilities too… but I'll leave that to you and your deputy. I'm no detective."

"Hmm, my deputy seems like a good man."

"Yes, he is a good man. He'll help you get started around town. Oh, and here, you'll want to wear this." Palin finished his tea, set the mug on the little table, reached into his embroidered jacket, and produced a bronze octagonal medallion that filled his palm. Attached to one edge was a loop of green and gold sash. On the uppermost face of the medallion, Gerard saw engraved a majestic vallenwood tree and around it the words, "To Protect the Peace and Promote Prosperity."

"What's that?" Gerard asked warily.

"The medallion of office. You should wear it now that you're sheriff."

Gerard shook his head. "I'd feel funny, wearing a medallion, being only a temporary sheriff."

Palin thrust it toward him. "Still, you'll need it to denote your authority."

Gerard put it on gingerly, feeling the burden of office descend upon his shoulders.

"Now," Palin said with enthusiasm, as if he had just won some contest of wills, "the first thing to do is for you to get around, introduce yourself to people. Get comfortable with folks. Long-time citizens of Solace have been skittish since the sheriff's murder, what with all the newcomers and strangers about."

Gerard drained his own mug and set it beside Palin's. Palin slapped his knees. "You ready for a look at the temple?"

"Uh, of course." Gerard stood up. The medallion felt clumsy against his chest. He nodded to Usha. "Thank you for the tea."

She gave him a smile that warmed him to his toes, making him forget his misgivings. "You're welcome here anytime, Gerard."

Outside, Vercleese was still waiting. "Sir Vercleese, you should have come in," said Gerard.

"I didn't want to disturb two old friends," the old knight said gruffly.

Palin put a hand gently on Vercleese's shoulder. "Next time, come in and join us." Then, as the old knight looked uncomfortable, Palin led the way in the direction of the mountains along a gently curving road that featured several temples and shrines on the eastern edge of town. After several minutes he stopped in front of a large, new structure, which Gerard thought looked vaguely familiar. Stone steps led up to a porch where six marble columns flanked the great double doors of an entryway. The pitched roof of the main structure was pierced by a large, domed tower in the center of the building, while three smaller domed towers rose one on each side of the main building and one at the rear. The building was evidently in the final stages of construction, for scaffolding still stood in several places, giving the army of workmen access to the walls. Men on the scaffolding were shouting and calling for materials, which others on the ground hurried to provide. Several men were dressing blocks of stone, their chisels ringing as they tapped expertly with wooden mallets. A group of laborers mixed mortar to cement the stones in place.

"That's the new temple," Palin said. "Recognize it?"

"Of course, it bears a distinct resemblance to the Temple of Mishakal in Xak Tsaroth!" Gerard exclaimed. "I've read descriptions of the ruins." He turned to Palin. "This is built to the same plans?"

"Only smaller," Palin said, nodding again.

Gerard pursed his lips, lowering his voice. "Look, I'll do my best, Palin…"

"Of course," Palin said a little too heartily, clapping him on the shoulder. "Of course."

Once the temple was dedicated, Gerard would be off to… well, he'd be on his way somewhere else. Until then, but only until then, he would do his best to be sheriff of Solace.

Gerard strolled along the bridge-walks, accompanied by Vercleese. The walkways were more crowded than ever as people poured out into the fresh air and sunshine, and frequently Gerard had to turn his shoulders in order to edge past groups headed in the other direction. Down on the street, drivers of carts and wagons shouted at passersby to move out of the way so they could get through. Traffic remained snarled, though few people seemed to care, so festive was the overall mood.

Even Gerard found it impossible to resist the gaiety in the air. Vercleese greeted people as they passed. "Good morning, Master and Mistress Tucker," Vercleese said to one couple, lowering his voice to tell Gerard as the pair smiled and moved past, "Bartholomew Tucker is the leading wine merchant in town, and is said to have his eye on running for town council when the opportunity arises. He'd be a good man for the post if he gets elected." The grizzled knight nodded to an elegantly dressed, middle-aged woman.

"Lady Drebble," he said. She barely acknowledged the greeting. When they were safely out of earshot, Vercleese informed Gerard, "Marguerite Drebble is a relative newcomer in town, a widow who claims the right to the title of Lady, although no one seems to know anything about her family connections. Still, we mostly humor her, as she seems harmless enough. That boy of hers, on the other hand." Vercleese rolled his eyes. "Nyland Drebble hasn't got the sense the gods gave a kender."

Often, the two stopped for more formal introductions, as Gerard was introduced to some of the citizens he'd be protecting. "Ah, Brynn," Vercleese boomed at one tall, extremely thin man with a dreamy air about him and a face dusted with fine white flour. "How's the bread business?"

The man pulled himself from whatever reverie gripped him and smiled wanly. "Rising, Sir Vercleese, always rising."

Vercleese laughed at what had obviously become a standard joke between them. It was probably the bread from Brynn's bakery that Gerard had smelled from his room earlier.

Vercleese indicated Gerard. "Brynn Ragulf here is our leading local baker," the deputy said for Gerard's benefit. "He's descended from a long line of bakers. Isn't that right, Brynn?"

The baker's smile took on a more brittle, stretched appearance. "Nobody knows dough like a Ragulf." But oddly, he didn't sound happy about the boast.

"Brynn's a good man," Vercleese whispered to Gerard when they were on their way again, "but he doesn't like being a baker. Hates it, in fact. Loathes bread, you see.

He thinks it's a deep, dark secret nobody knows about him, though everyone in town's well aware of it. Just don't ever get him onto the subject of adventure; he'll talk your arm off. He's a real arm-chair adventurer." Vercleese grinned wickedly, glancing at his stump of an arm. "Take it from me. That man dreams night and day of traveling to exotic places and doing bold things. He's especially keen on a seafaring life, although he's never so much as seen a ship." The knight shuddered, apparently recollecting his own recent high seas trip. "He doesn't know how lucky he is.