Tymora's luck

OFFSTAGE

Somewhere in the Prime Material Plane, on the world known as Toril, in Realmspace, Daramos Lauthyr, High Lord Priest of Tymora, surveyed the wreckage of a once-secret shrine to Beshaba. Hidden in an underground chamber beneath a stable beside a respectable inn, the shrine had been a mere hundred yards from the shining spires of the Lady's House, also known as the temple of Tymora and Arabel's most resplendent cathedral. Beshaba's worshipers must have laughed at their proximity as they hid here in Lady Luck's shadow.

Now it was Lauthyr's turn to laugh. He toed one of the holy symbols of Beshaba, a crudely painted red plaque with black antlers, and allowed a tight smile to creep across his thin lips. As he looked around at the devastation, the smile grew into a full-fledged grin.

A week of heavy summer storms following hard after a season of steady spring rains had created a sinkhole over thirty feet across and twenty feet deep just beneath the stables. The secret shrine's earthen roof, insufficiently supported by wooden beams, had collapsed, as had the stable above, revealing the vipers' nest below. The worshipers had been crushed and smothered by dirt, slate rock, and lumber.

The town guard, aided by Lauthyr's priests, were now sorting through the tangle of rubble and timbers to pull free the corpses of Beshaba's unfortunate followers. Apparently the collapse had occurred during a service to the Maid of Misfortune, for there were many human corpses. A dozen had been discovered in the top layer of the ruins, along with a those of half a dozen horses that had been quartered in the stable above. So far the rescuer had found only one survivor-a stallion. Lauthyr had ordered that it be dug out, lifted from the sinkhole, and healed. It was unlikely that he would accord similar kindness to any of Beshaba's worshipers, should any of them be found alive. Lauthyr was not the sort to show mercy to an enemy.

Any other priest might have credited Chauntea for the bountiful rain that had revealed the temple, but Lauthyr attributed the destructive rain in full to Tymora, since it had revealed the shrine of her hate-filled sister. It was a clear sign, in Lauthyr's mind, that Tymora had chosen Arabel as her own, which meant Daramos Lauthyr, High Lord Priest of the Lady's House, was the chosen prophet of Tymora's church.

Lauthyr looked up beyond the pit's walls to the new spires of the Lady's House, with their finely wrought golden domes perched atop turrets of white marble veined with sea-green jade. It had cost as much as the price of the marble to haul the stone from Impiltur, but Lauthyr considered the money well spent. The new construction, made possible by the donations of Tymora's followers, announced the wonders of Tymora and demonstrated that Tymora's church in Arabel was the most faithful in the world.

Lauthyr decided he would have to convince Myrmeen Lhal, the local lord, to cede this land to Tymora's church. Once the sinkhole had been filled in, it would serve well as the site for a church school, or perhaps a rectory-a place where Lauthyr himself could reflect upon the marvels his rule had created.

The High Lord Priest was shaken out of his daydreaming by the sound of someone clearing his throat. Lauthyr stifled the frown that came naturally to his face whenever he was interrupted. Lord Priest Doust Sulwood stood before him.

"We've uncovered thirty-seven bodies so far," Sulwood reported. "There's likely to be four or five times that number by the time we're through."

"An impressive display of Tymora's vengeance," Lauthyr replied, sagely concealing any pleasure he felt. Doust Sulwood was an annoyingly kind person, not the sort to revel in a foe's misfortune. "This should make a wonderful sermon for this evening's service and for many evenings to come."

"Are you planning to speak from the pulpit about the Marliir noble we found?" Sulwood asked with a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

"What?" Lauthyr growled.

"Among the bodies is one of the Marliir nobles. A lesser cousin," Sulwood explained.

Lauthyr frowned for a moment. House Marliir was much favored in Arabel. The noble family wouldn't appreciate a priest implicating any member of their family in a scandal. With a more impassive expression, the High Lord Priest replied, "Such a pity that poor Marliir noble was in the stables when Tymora chose to weaken the supports of the temple below."

Sulwood snorted contemptuously. Lauthyr's political machinations never ceased to annoy him.

From the ground level above them, a woman called out urgently to the High Lord Priest. Lauthyr and Sulwood looked up. A young priestess stood on the edge of the sinkhole, waving down at Lauthyr.

"What is it, my child?" Lauthyr asked calmly.

The priestess knelt down before Lauthyr, a ridiculous formality in Sulwood's opinion, especially in light of the fact she was twenty feet above the Lord High Priest. As far as Sulwood was concerned, a bow of the head showed respect enough for a mortal being who was, after all, only a servant to the goddess he worshiped.

"Forgive me, High Lord, but there is an emergency back at the Lady's House."

Daramos Lauthyr looked back up at the resplendent spires of Tymora's temple with alarm. "What's wrong?" he asked less calmly.

"Apparently the collapse of Beshaba's shrine changed the channel of one of the city's springs. The water is now pouring into the Lady's House."

The High Lord Priest sighed with relief. "No doubt Lady Luck wished us to have a more convenient source of water," he informed the priestess.

"But, High Lord," the priestess called down, "it's flooded out the scriptorium and the library. All our tomes and scrolls have been ruined."

Lauthyr paled. He had no insight into Lady Luck's motives for destroying the accumulated learning of her favored temple.

Sulwood gave Lauthyr a solicitous pat on the back "Don't worry, High Lord," he said. "I'm sure you'll find some good explanation before tonight's sermon "