When Laura had said the space available for Gerard in the attic was "cozy," he discovered what she really meant was that it was cramped- extremely cramped. It was tight even for a dwarf used to short beds and close confinement underground. After a night spent with his knees up around his chin and his toes dangling over the end of the bed, Gerard woke to find sunlight streaming in through the attic's tiny window and the sound of birds singing all around him in the tree boughs.
There were other sounds mixed with the birdsongs: the steady ring of hammer on anvil from the smithy, pleasantly filtered by distance and the intervening trees; the tinkling of bells tolling out the rites at one of the temples or shrines; and the rumble of coaches and wagons through the streets.
Added to the sounds were the smells: rain-swept leaves of the vallenwood trees now warmed by the sun, more spiced potatoes being prepared for the day's patrons in Laura's kitchen downstairs, breads and rolls fresh from the oven at some nearby bakery, and the meat pies of a street vendor who was calling out his wares in a singsong voice.
Solace was awake for the day. It was hard not to be cheerful on such a glorious morning, but Gerard managed. He felt optimistic, perhaps, but not quite cheerful.
He stood, banging his head on a roof beam, and stretched as best he could to work the kinks out of his neck and back. Then he dressed and descended to the inn's main room. After a breakfast of plain, unsalted oatmeal-a breakfast personally served to him by a scowling Laura-he headed for Palin's house, high among the trees. Already, the bridge-walk was teeming with people. Several times Gerard stepped out of the way of approaching groups: businessmen deep in discussions about goods delivered and accounts due, well-dressed burghers and fashionable aristocrats newly transplanted from Palanthas and out for a stroll, and riffraff skulking about on who knew what kind of errands. A couple of dwarves passed by, their expressions locked in fiercely maintained attitudes of unconcern at finding themselves so high above the earth.
Scarcely had Gerard gone fifty yards on his way when his attention was caught by a voice ringing out on the street below.
"Good morning, Solace! It's matins on a beautiful, sunny day and-oops, almost stepped in that puddle-if you're not up yet, you should be, because lots promises to be happening today!"
Gerard frowned, perplexed, and leaned out over the bridge-walk's railing to see a kender emerge from a side street, wandering through town and shouting at the top of his voice. Others on the bridge-walk and the street below paused to listen as well, although no one seemed to find the creature's uproar out of the ordinary.
"Mistress Corinne Nestor's favorite hen hatched a two-headed chicken yesterday," the kender went on loudly, "and Jason and Grace Clabber had another row in the early morning about his staying out late drinking at The Trough the night before. With the town's only constabulary still away on secret business at the time of the argument, no one was available to break it up before the whole area was awakened. Nearby residents vowed that Sir Vercleese uth Rothgaard has much to answer for, being unavailable at the time to ensure the neighborhood's tranquility.
"Meanwhile, Solace's new sheriff Gerard uth Mondar arrived last night with the aforesaid Sir Vercleese and endured a largely sleepless night on a bed several sizes too short for him-oh, hello, Sheriff!" This last he directed to Gerard himself as the kender passed from beneath the bridge-walk where Gerard watched. The kender nodded and continued on his way, unperturbed. "But the big, big news remains the recent arrival of a special envoy of clerics for the upcoming temple dedication…"
The kender headed down another street, his voice gradually trailing away behind him. Gerard shook his head in disbelief. Around him, people resumed their own affairs without a second thought for the kender's odd behavior. The changes in Solace continued to amaze Gerard. He went on his way lost in thought.
At Palin's doorstep, Vercleese was waiting for him. The old knight nodded a greeting and reached up with his one hand to knock. When the door opened to admit them, Vercleese stepped aside. Gerard paused in the act of stepping over the threshold. "Aren't you coming in as well?"
"You two have business to discuss. I'll wait out here."
Inside, Gerard greeted Palin awkwardly, studying the former mage. Palin was grayer now than he had been during the war, and his once-emaciated frame now carried a little extra weight. There were worry ridges across his forehead, but his face bore laugh lines as well. Most striking, however, was the nimble agility of his fingers, shattered when he had been tortured for information he refused to divulge, then magically restored at the end of the war. After welcoming Gerard, Palin smiled at his old acquaintance, the expression dancing in his eyes.
Evidently, life as Solace's mayor agreed with him.
Gerard returned Palin's friendly gaze guardedly. They had not been close, exactly. Rather, they had been comrades during the war, both fighting for the same ends. That seemed a tenuous link between them nowadays, in the bustling atmosphere of peacetime Solace.
"Please, sit down," Palin said, gesturing toward a chair. "Make yourself comfortable."
Gerard glanced across the cozy parlor. A colorful knitted throw rug lay folded and draped over the back of a comfortable-looking stuffed chair, one of a pair of such chairs drawn near a fireplace. A sturdy leather hassock rested in front of the second chair. A little wooden table between the two chairs offered a convenient place on which to set a book or mug.
Gerard sat, feeling oddly ill at ease in the warm intimacy of the room, so different from the cool, aloof austerity of his parents' home. This comfy room attested to a loving relationship between Palin and Usha unknown to him, and that brought a pang of longing.
He turned his attention to the artwork on the walls. The paintings varied from a portrait of Caramon over the mantel to interesting still lifes and landscapes elsewhere around the room, all of them done in the unmistakably vivid style of Usha Majere. Caramon in his portrait appeared ready to smile, as if he would at any moment call for a plate of spiced potatoes, while the strawberries in another picture left Gerard with the impulse to pluck one up and dip it in the painted bowl of cream, so lifelike was the image.
Palin took the other seat. "So, I hear you've left the knighthood," he said evenly.
Gerard peered at him closely, wondering if he meant this as an accusation. "How did you find out?"
Palin crooked a smile. "I still have sources in the wider world. Tell me, do you miss it?"
Gerard held his gaze. "You tell me, do you miss the magic?"
Palin raised his long, slender hands before his face, slowly extending his fingers as though he still couldn't believe they had been healed. "Sometimes," he said softly. Then he dropped his hands and looked back at Gerard. "But I find the modest duties of mayor surprisingly satisfying," he said with a smile.
Gerard didn't fully believe him.
A moment of silence lengthened between them, growing uncomfortable. Finally, Palin interrupted the awkwardness. "I'm glad you came. Glad you answered my summons."
Gerard nodded.
"So you'll take the job?"
"Why me?" Gerard countered. "Why not someone local?"
"Because I think you're the right man."
"Why?"
"Well, your record during the war, for one thing. You're courageous, resourceful, and, uh, well…"
"Yes, and what?"
"Not likely to be encumbered by-how shall I put it? — misplaced feelings of obligation toward one group or another that might affect your ability to handle matters in a fair and balanced manner."
Gerard went cold. "You mean, I have no friends in town."
Palin's face flamed. "That's not what I meant."
"What happened to the previous sheriff? Vercleese tells me he was mysteriously murdered. Does that mean I, too, will be at risk?"
Palin hesitated, staring at Gerard from across the small table that separated the chairs.
Just then Usha entered the room, and the question was forgotten. Golden-eyed and silver-haired-not the silver of age, but of agelessness-she was still as fresh-faced and beautiful as a maiden half her age or younger. Gerard leaped to his feet and drew in a sharp breath, caught off guard as he always was by the sight of her. He felt unaccountably clumsy in her presence.
Palin stood as well and smiled, the tolerant, bemused expression of a man who recognized the effect his wife had on all men and women, and who wasn't threatened by it. Gerard wondered how long it had taken Palin to achieve that measure of acceptance. It wasn't a state a man might come to easily, he thought.
Usha was busy heating water. "Please sit," she said, motioning Gerard back to his chair. "Tea will be ready in a moment."
"Oh, no, don't bother," Gerard stammered.
"Nonsense," Palin said, urging him to sit. "You wouldn't deny my wife the opportunity to play hostess, now would you?"
Gerard sat. The truth was he would not have denied this woman anything, so disarming was her beauty. Yet he realized hers was not a beauty that aroused jealousy or caused a man to glance in sideways distrust at his neighbors, but simply the visible aspect of someone upon whom the gods appeared to have bestowed all that was perfect in a woman. Usha was maiden, mother, and revered elder, all in one.
Palin took his seat again with a deep sigh that bespoke contentment with his lot.
"You really don't miss it, do you?" Gerard blurted with sudden amazement.
"Miss what?"
"The travel, the excitement." Gerard felt his face go hot with embarrassment at having spoken perhaps too indiscreetly. "The magic."
Palin considered. "Travel is just another word for bad food and worse accommodations. Excitement is anything that disrupts the tranquility I have come to treasure. And the magic?" He pursed his lips in thought then laughed as if his musings startled him. "No, I don't really miss it. All those years of desperately seeking the next spell, the next magical artifact, of dreading the loss of magic in the world, and now instead I have this." He gestured with his long, graceful fingers, fingers once shattered and now fully restored. Their motion took in Usha and the surrounding room and, indeed, all of Solace. "I think it's a fair trade, don't you?"
Gerard nodded, although he couldn't imagine feeling satisfied at being stuck permanently in Solace. Yet at the moment, this room did feel very inviting.
"Besides," Palin went on, "we have plenty of excitement here, as you will see. More than anyone needs." He peered at Gerard closely. "Look, you will take the job, right?"
"I wouldn't be staying long," Gerard said, unwilling to create a false impression. "I could help out until this temple dedication I've been hearing about, but after that I'll have to be moving on and you'll need to find someone else… uh, more permanent."
"Oh, of course," Palin said quickly. "If you can stay only a short while, then I understand."
"So what is this temple dedication all about?" Gerard asked, eager to shift the conversation.
"I'll take you over there in a little bit and show you around. But right now, let's have some tea and talk." He gestured to where Usha was pouring three mugs with steaming tarbean tea, filling the room with its welcoming aroma. She handed them each a mug and took the third one herself, gracefully seating herself on the hassock.
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.