She goes looking for a priest

Teysa's lip curled in distaste. In her old life, she had had to deal with unsavory figures quite often. The types of people who hired roving bands of adventurers to solve their problems were often the types who preferred, for one reason or another, to avoid official notice. A job was a job, after all, and adventurers had to eat. But that didn't mean she liked it.

"I think I'll leave that to you, Jez'ria," she said. "I've got an errand I need to run here. Can we meet up later?"

Jez'ria pointed at one of the largest pillars, one the width of a house. "There'z a bell on top of that pillar. You'll hear it, trust me. They mark time by ringing it. Vhen you hear six peals, meet me at the base of the pillar. Deal?"

Teysa nodded. "Deal. I'm looking for a priest of Agamor. Do you know where I might find one?"

Jez'ria looked amused. "Vhat do I look like to you, a surface dweller?" she asked. "I don't come here for the good of my soul. Check over there." She waved a hand vaguely towards a cluster of squat buildings at one end of the cave. "Sometimez I see god-botherers milling around at that end of the market."

Teysa decided to let that pass. "Thank you, Jez'ria," she said, her tone icily polite. "You've been very helpful." She turned on her heel and marched off. Aliara scampered to catch up, and El'keth started forward, but Jez'ria held out an arm.

"Vhere do you think you're going, little one?" she said. "You come vith me to pay tribute." El'keth looked mournfully at Teysa's retreating back, then nodded and wilted a little. The two driders trundled off in the opposite direction.

The scale of the market made it hard to judge distance. What had looked like a five minute walk turned out to be a much longer journey. Part of this was because of the density of the crowd; they had to constantly weave around rattling carts, knots of arguing traders, and a haphazard scatter of stalls. It seemed that each merchant simply pitched their tent or parked their cart wherever they ran out of space to move. The paths between them were a complex, ever-shifting maze, and territorial disputes simmered constantly along the busiest lanes. Teysa watched a quarter of dwarf guards drag a rug-seller's stall away from his neighbor's as he protested angrily. "I was first! I was first!" the man cried, capering and throwing his arms in the air. The dwarves ignored him and rolled his merchandise roughly across the floor. "Careful with that!" he screeched. Behind him, a pair of gnomes watched smugly, then turned back to their portable anvil.

Aliara linked her arm with Teysa's as they walked. She had a broad grin on her face. Her eyes constantly scanned the crowd, and occasionally she'd point out a particular vendor of interest to her. "Check that one out!" she said, pointing at an elven woman sitting cross-legged on a ragged square of carpet. The woman's hair was grey and her face was so brown and crinkly that it resembled a walnut. She was surrounded by what looked like pieces of driftwood, and another one sat in her lap. She was notching it with a long-bladed silver knife. "She's a hyvyth artisan," Aliara said, never taking her eyes off the woman. "Traditional wood elven scrimshaw. Those pieces around her must have taken months to make. They ritually fast first, to clear their mind of all distractions. They have an entire elven epic, carved on a piece of wood." Her voice sounded dreamy. "I never thought I'd see one down here!"

Teysa gave her a surprised look. "What- how do you know all that?" she asked. Aliara looked up at her with bright eyes, but there was something brittle in her smile.

"My-- my mother had one. I remember, when I was small. It was just a piece of a larger branch, something passed down in her family. I used to sit on her lap and she'd show me what it said. The writings were so tiny, so perfect. Even my little-kid fingers were huge compared to them. It was a whole epic! Like, a week of solid recitation from a master bard. All carved onto a piece of wood the size of my forearm."

"It was a book?" Teysa asked. Aliara laughed and shook her head.

"No, not a book. We had books. This was a... a living history. Some of these stories, the stories themselves are alive. You understand? Not like you or me or a tree or something, but alive out there, somewhere. So you couldn't write them down on paper. It wouldn't be the same story. It would be... dead, somehow. The hyvyth were the only way to pass them along." Aliara stared into space. "I don't know what happened to it when... when the drow came. I never saw it again."

Teysa squeezed Aliara's arm, and the half-elf seemed to come back to herself from wherever she had gone. "Do you want to go see them?" Teysa asked. "Maybe we can get a new one."

Aliara shook her head and squeezed back. "Wood is so expensive down here. I imagine they cost a fortune. Besides, what would I do with it? I can barely read elven script anymore at normal size, let alone the tiny little letters on the hyvyth. Teysa, you wouldn't believe it. They're so delicate, but every single rune is perfect. If there's a single mistake, the artisan throws the whole thing away and starts again."

"Well, this I have to see," Teysa said. "Come on, Li, let's check it out. We have time." She set off, dragging the protesting Aliara behind her. The old woman didn't look up from her work as they approached. Close to, she seemed positively shriveled. She stared down at the wood in her hands with a peaceful smile on her face as the roar and hubbub of the market washed over her. Somehow, the crushing press of the crowd never intruded on her little square of carpet. Even the sounds of the market were curiously muted, as if Teysa and Aliara had stepped into a bubble.

The woman's hand was twitching, the knife in her hand making small, precise movements. Teysa barely dared to breathe, in case she interrupted some difficult cut. She stared, hypnotized, as the silver tip of the blade danced and etched.

"Hello, child," the old woman said. Her voice was a thin, reedy croak. She did not look up or stop her carving for a second. Teysa startled backwards, but rallied. "Hello, madam," she managed. "Good afternoon to you."

"And you as well, my dear," said the old woman. "But I wasn't talking to you."

Teysa heard Aliara's breath catch. The half-elf's mouth opened, but nothing came out. There was a dry click in her throat.

"It's all right, child," said the old woman. "I smell the forest on you."

"I..." Aliara began. "I... I am..."

"Daughter of two worlds. I know. And here you are in a third. Poor child," the old woman shook her head sadly. "Yours has been a hard trail. And with more heartbreak to come. I am sorry for it." She laid her knife down in front of her and turned over the piece of wood in her hands as though inspecting it. Then she looked up.

Her eyes were milky, cataracted orbs, the pale blue of a robin's egg. They stared blindly at a point just past Aliara's shoulder. She smiled, revealing a mouthful of brown pegs, and extended an arm. It was thin and liver-spotted, shrunken with age, but it did not waver. She held out the piece of wood she had been working on. Aliara reached for it slowly, as if in a daze, and stopped when her fingers were inches away.

"Go on, take it," the old woman said with an encouraging nod. "I made it for you."

"How- how much?" Aliara asked.

"Take it," the old woman repeated. "I can make another."

Teysa's eyes were drawn to the scrap of wood. It flowed like a breaking wave frozen at the moment of impact. Every inch of it was covered with dense, tight scrawl. The letters climbed and grew over each other without ever overlapping. Aliara took it in hands that were visibly trembling. When the old elf let go of it, it nearly fell before Aliara could tighten her grip. She stared at it in wonder.

"Why?" she breathed. "What does it say?"

The crone closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath before responding. "It'll tell you. When the time is right. For now, just keep it as a reminder. The tree from which this is cut is still growing. So are you."

Aliara said nothing, but pressed the piece of wood tightly against her breast. Tears glittered on her cheeks. Teysa wrapped one around around her and pulled her tight. She looked down at the old woman, who was already reaching for a fresh piece of wood. "Thank you," she began. "I don't know why you gave her this, but thank you."

"No, thank you." The old woman's voice grew colder and quieter, but Teysa still had no trouble hearing her. "For what you've done, and what you have yet to do. Don't tarry. You have less time than you think." She picked up her knife again. "Now leave me be. I have a lot of work to do."

A chill ran up Teysa's spine. She squeezed Aliara's shoulder once more, then turned towards the distant buildings. "Come on, Li," she whispered. "Let's go." Aliara nodded silently and sniffled, then wiped her eyes with her hand and looked up. "I'm ok, Tey. I promise. I just..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "That old bat took me by surprise, that's all." She turned her hyvyth wood around in her hand, then stowed it in her bag. "It was a nice present. I'll hang it up on the wall when we get home." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Teysa on the corner of the mouth. "Let's go. I don't want to waste any more time on your errand."

The buildings had seemed small, but Teysa soon realized they were just very far away. As the pair drew closer, the facades loomed overhead. They were decorative, Teysa realized, carven fronts for buildings hewn into the wall of the cavern. The stalls at this end of the market were sparser, farther apart, offering well-crafted goods and fine art.

Teysa studied the facades, looking for something she recognized. There was a hammer crossed with a lightning bolt; she thought it was the emblem of one of the dwarven houses, though she wasn't sure. A sculpture of a female dwarf holding a set of balancing scales was surely some kind of courthouse, and an image of a dragon coiled over a bed of coins-- the coins picked out in gold filigree-- was probably a bank or counting-house. Some of the buildings had holy symbols: the double-headed axe of Orrum, the wheel of Tarsus, a cracked mountain that belonged to one of the dwarven gods. And there! Tucked in at one end was a modest chapel with high, peaked windows and the sunburst of Agamor etched above the lintel.

The ground around here was tiled with mosaic patterns that shifted and flowed into each other. As they approached the building marked with Agamor's seal, the patterns became bright, dazzling rays of sunlight. They converged on a ring of citrines set in the ground itself, forming a gigantic sun around the temple's threshold. As they stepped inside, Teysa felt a momentary warmth, as though a sunbeam had peeked out from behind a cloud.

The building inside was a chapel of the kind she had seen many times in her youth: rows of pews, an altar and pulpit at the front. Most temples to Agamor would have broad windows to allow in sunbeams, but they were underground; rings of citrines and topaz were set in the walls, and torchlight reflected off them and lit the room with a sparkling yellow glow. A half-dozen parishioners were kneeling in silent prayer throughout the room. At the front, a cassocked man stood at the altar with his back to them.

He turned as Teysa and Aliara approached. He was human, and young-looking; his face had barely left behind its adolescent acne, and his hair was a disheveled mop. He looked from one woman to the other, smiling uncertainly. "Uh, welcome to Agamor's sanctum, my ladies," he said, sketching a clumsy bow. "What can I do for you?"

Teysa reached into her traveling satchel and pulled out her holy symbol. Normally she wore it on the roundel of her armor, but she had elected to carry it here, to avoid attracting unwanted attention. "Greetings, father. I am Teysa, of the Order of the Golden Ray. I come seeking the light of Agamor's wisdom."

Her ceremonial greeting seemed to have thrown him. He turned bright red and waved his hands in front of his face. "No! No, sorry, you have the wrong person. I'm not-- that is, I mean, you are in the right place, sister, but this is..." he took a deep breath and started over. "I'm sorry," he said. "My name is Ansium. I am just a novitiate here. Father Tuubel is the priest but he's, he's..." he took a deep breath. "He's missing. I'm sorry, Order of the Golden Ray? You're a paladin, right?" Hope underlined every trembling syllable.

"I am," Teysa replied. The word "missing" kept turning itself over in her head. She frowned. "Is that a problem?"

"No! Not at all. In fact, quite the opposite," Ansium said. He gave a weak smile. Sweat was gathering on his forehead, she noticed, and his blush had not abated. "You may have come at, uh, the perfect time. You see, Father Tuubel was supposed to meet me today for instruction on oratory. I was to deliver my first homily this week. But he never showed up, and, and, he hasn't slept in his bed, his housekeeper says, and I don't know what to do!" This last was delivered in almost a wail. "I'm sorry," he said, regaining some equilibrium. "It's not right to foist my problems on you. What brings you to this chapel?"

"I was hoping for some spiritual guidance," Teysa replied. "But the Father is missing? For how long?"

"Well, I saw him yesterday," offered Ansium. "He seemed in good spirits then. He was talking about renovations to the chapel. We've been meaning to expand the apse for ages, and he says finally the time is right to do it." His fingers twisted themselves together, and he held up his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please, milady, can you help? I'd like to find him before there's a panic. He's not as young as he was, though his mind has seemed as sharp as ever... I don't think he'd wander off."

"One moment," Teysa replied. "Let me just talk to my partner here." She turned to Aliara, who was giving her a long, penetrating look.