Part 24 (2/2)
”Inside a week, she'll be scrubbing Lord Gorgias's floors and begging for gruel,” called another.
”No!” cried Adon. ”With the power of Our Lady, she's strong enough to prevail over any foe-even Lord Gorgias.”
From the back of the plaza, a familiar voice called, ”Then let her prove it.” A narrow lane opened in the crowd, and Sarafina walked forward, a pair of empty water pails in her hands. When she reached the basin, she dropped the buckets at Corene's feet, then reached up to her veil. ”If you are strong enough to protect us from Lord Gorgias, then make me beautiful again.”
”No, Sarafina!” shouted the matron. ”If you ask strangers for help, we'll all pay the price.”
”At least we still have our hands to work with,” cried another woman. ”Don't make Lord Gorgias any angrier, or he'll take those away, too.”
The thin woman stepped toward Sarafina. ”Haven't you caused enough trouble already?”
”I'm suffering the same as you-probably more so, considering the hards.h.i.+p your anger has caused my family's inn,” Sarafina replied. ”But the duke is evil, and I'd rather die than marry him.”
”There are tortures worse than death,” said the thin woman. ”And your stubbornness is visiting them upon us all.”
”If you prize your appearance so highly, then you marry him,” countered Sarafina, ripping off her veil. ”As for me, I'll parade my ugliness past all the men of the village before I sell my virtue and yield to the duke.”
Adon gasped at what the duke's curse had done to Sarafina's face. From the eyes downward, her appearance was that of a monster. She had shriveled green skin, stretched tight over a dozen bony lumps jutting out from her face. Her nose was hideously pointed and covered with carbuncles, while her lips were frozen into an ugly sneer that revealed a mouthful of jagged, yellow teeth. From her chin sprouted a short gray horn, which curled back toward her throat.
All of these deformities, however, could not hide Sarafina's inner beauty. She held her head high and met Aden's gaze without shame, her strength and determination showing in her unwavering brown eyes. In a steady voice, she asked the patriarch, ”Now who's gaping?”
The cleric did not look away. ”If I am staring, it's because I am captivated by your spirit,” he said honestly, stepping toward her. ”It's not because the duke's pitiful mask has engrossed me.”
”All the same, the people of Tegea won't trust your novice until she proves her power,” said Sarafina, facing Corene. ”Give me back what Lord Gorgias has stolen.”
Corene cast a nervous glance at her patriarch. Adon nodded at her. ”Lift the curse,” he said. ”Trust in Mystra. You have more than enough power.”
The novice's eyes ranged over Adon's scar, then she swallowed hard. ”If you think so.” She laid a hand on Sarafina's deformed face, then spoke her incantation.
A yellow radiance spread outward from the novice's hand and crept across Sarafina's visage. The young woman's skin returned to its normal swarthy color, and the lumpy protrusions covering her face began to subside. The carbuncles on her nose slowly healed, and her gray horn began to soften and shrink.
An astonished murmur rustled through the crowd.
”You see?” cried Adon, facing the women. ”Armed with Mystra's magic, even a novice can undo Lord Gorgias's-”
An alarmed cry from Corene cut his statement short. When Adon looked back, he saw that a gray shadow was replacing the golden luminescence of Corene's magic. As it worked its way over Sarafina's face, the young woman's newly restored beauty was replaced with the hideous mask of Lord Gorgias's curse.
When the shadow touched Corene's fingers, she screamed and pulled away. The grayness followed her hand, quickly gliding up her arm. The terrified novice plunged her hand into the water and desperately tried to scrub the thing off, but her efforts were to no avail. The shadow slipped over her shoulder and onto her face. It lingered there for an instant, then faded away as rapidly as it had appeared.
For a moment, Corene remained where she was, staring into the basin's rippling waters. Then, all at once, a horrified howl escaped her lips and she threw herself at Adon. ”Forgive me!” she screeched, wrapping her arms around his chest. ”It was your scar. It made me doubt Our Lady!”
Adon pried Corene away and looked at her. From her cheeks downward, her skin had become leathery and shriveled. Her b.u.t.ton nose had tripled in size and turned red, with gaping pink nostrils larger than those of a swine. Her lips were covered with black bristles and curled back, while a fringe of silky white wool hung from her jawline.
”I understand,” Adon whispered. ”Don't worry. I'll set things right.”
”How?” demanded the matron. ”By staying here yourself?”
The patriarch shook his head. ”My duties in Arabel-”
”Then I suggest you return to Arabel right away. Just leave us to our troubles,” said the thin woman, moving forward. ”Now stand aside so I can fill my bucket.”
Corene blocked her path. ”You don't understand. This failure was mine, not Mystra's.”
”Our Lady of Mysteries is the patroness of magic itself,” Adon explained. ”No mortal's spell can withstand her power.”
A deep voice boomed across the plaza. ”But your G.o.ddess is not here, and I am!”
A hulking, leather-clad figure lumbered out of the lane. Although he had a hunched back and a gnarled frame, he stood half again taller than any normal man. His legs were thin and so badly bowed that he seemed to scuttle rather than walk. One gaunt arm hung so low that his knuckles dragged on the cobblestones, while the other was twisted and held to his chest at an awkward angle.
The newcomer had a face as horrible as any Adon had ever seen. It was impossibly haggard and covered with cracked, black skin. The figure's brow jutted out so far that it cast an impenetrable shadow over his eyes. His nose was as narrow as a dagger blade, his cheekbones were grotesquely misshaped, and a pair of yellow tusks curled up from beneath his lower lip.
Behind the figure stood Broka, wearing his fur-trimmed cape and purple c.u.mmerbund. His face remained covered with boils, and his swollen nose and black eyes suggested that he had suffered a harsh beating after returning to Castle Gorgias last night.
As the women began to scurry for their homes, the seneschal yelled, ”Stay! The duke wishes you to see what pa.s.ses here.”
The crowd stopped moving instantly, leaving a wide swath of open plaza between the gruesome figure and the patriarch. Adon stepped away from Sarafina. ”Lord Gorgias?”
The duke tipped his head in acknowledgement and scuttled forward. ”I've come to thank you for the change in my seneschal,” he, said, waving his gangling arm at Broka's ulcerating face. ”He's much more interesting to look upon.”
”Perhaps to you,” Adon allowed.
The duke stopped a dozen steps away. ”And now that I have expressed my grat.i.tude, you and your novice must go,” he said. ”Had you called at my castle when you arrived, you and I might have had an interesting debate regarding the Church of Mysteries-with a few hours on the rack to help you think clearly. As it is, however, I cannot allow you to spread your lies among my villagers.”
Adon shook his head. ”We won't leave while your curse remains on Tegea.”
”Curse! Do you think I would curse the woman I love?” demanded the duke, gesturing in Sarafina's direction. ”I'm broadening her sense of beauty, so that she'll appreciate the subtle elegance of my form.”
”It's not your form that repulses me!” Sarafina snapped. ”I loathe what you are inside.”
”And what am I-inside?”
”A tyrant, as cruel as you are vain,” said Sarafina. ”I'd rather die alone than marry you!”
A forked tongue flickered between the duke's lips. ”I wonder if the other women of Tegea share your feelings?”
”No!” screamed several of the women in the square.
”Go with him now, or you'll make widows of us all,” ordered the matron, stepping toward Sarafina. Others moved to back her up, but Corene quickly drew her flail and blocked the women's path.
Adon pulled a pinch of yellow brimstone from the pocket of his cloak. He uttered a silent prayer to Mystra, begging her to look favorably on the spell he was preparing to cast, then said, ”Lord Gorgias will kill no one.”
”Perhaps not-if you're gone by dusk,” said the duke, fixing his shadowed eyes on the cleric. ”But if you're still here after highsun, every man in this village will die. Mark my words.”
”If you threaten others, I've no choice but to strike you down in Mystra's name!”
As the patriarch raised his arms to cast the spell, the women screamed in alarm and fled the plaza. The duke merely smiled while a fiery breach opened in the sky above his head. A pillar of flame crackled down toward his face. He watched it come, laughing wildly.
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