Duvan took a deep breath of morning air as he walked up the stone steps to the balcony. His bones ached as he took each step slowly. The healing hed gotten from Kaylinn’s personal care had been the best of his life, but there was only so much that magic could do to heal the trauma.
Some things only healed with the passage of time, and not enough time had passed. Not yet.
As he climbed the last step and approached the balcony’s edge, Duvan looked out across the expansive field that separated the temple complex from Ormpetarr. Despite the events of the past tenday, the walls of the city stood seemingly unchanged. Just another day, for most of inhabitants of the city.
Life went on.
The field below was remarkably barren. The pilgrims who had come for the Festival of Blue Fire were all either dead or scattered. Duvan hadn’t been back to the site of the ritual, but he suspected that it was a graveyard of pilgrims. A warning to others, perhaps.
But even as he thought this, he saw that the field was not entirely barren. A small group of new arrivals had arrived and were setting up their tents. These fresh pilgrims had come to try their chance at flirting with blue fire. When would people learn?
The aroma of sage and jasmine threatened to lull Duvan into a daze. The morning sun shining hot in the sky warmed him. And with that welcome heat, exhaustion started. Duvan shook himself, fighting the urge to sleep. It seemed like he had been sleeping constantly, and while he needed the rest, he was determined to get back on his feet. Now that he had a reason to live, he didn’t want to waste one minute of those he had remaining.
Footsteps sounded behind him, and Duvan turned lazily to see the familiar sight of Kaylinn climbing the last step to the balcony. Lines of fatigue showed deep in her broad face, but she smiled when she saw Duvan. “It’s good to see you up and about,” she said. “I am glad you are still with us.”
Duvan had to smile back. Despite the deep ache in his gut and chest, he felt connected to the world. “Thank you for healing me,” he said. “I am in your debt.”
“No, no.” Kaylinn shook her head. “We are in your debt, Duvan. Many owe their lives to you and Slanya.”
Duvan shrugged. “To Slanya, perhaps,” he said. “She’s the one who really made the effort, the sacrifice.”
Kaylinn’s face darkened. “It’s all right to be humble, young man,” she said. “But do not lie to a priest.”
“I just wish I could have done more,” Duvan said. “That I could have saved her.” Like she saved me. he thought.
“She died content and fulfilled,” Kaylinn said. “And part of that was due to you. It is what we do in our various lives that defines us. I can see that you grieve, Duvan. And that is natural. That is an acknowledgment that Slanya touched you.” She sniffed. “Just as she touched me and many others.”
Duvan remembered Slanya’s barging into his room at the Jewel, interrupting his time with Moirah. He remembered how angry he was at the intrusion. How surprised he was at Slanya’s determination. How much he’d grown to like her in the time since. Grown to love her.
“Don’t grieve too long, however,” Kaylinn said. “You’ve been grieving for your sister all your lifeyes, Slanya told me some of that story. Let it pass. Celebrate the lives of the dead, then let them go. You must, if you’re going to make your own way.”
Duvan was too tired to muster any anger or even irritation at Kaylinn’s lecture. Besides, she was probably right.
“In any case,” Kaylinn said, “I came to tell you that Slanya’s funeral ceremony will begin shortly. I knew you would want to come to honor her. And to say good-bye.”
Duvan nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “I need to be there.”
“There are some appropriate garments on the chair in your room,” Kaylinn said. “Your own leathers are acceptable, but they are somewhat… um, how to put it? Filthy.”
Duvan laughed. “I will change.” Then he started walking back down the stone steps toward his room. When he found himself off-balance, he allowed Kaylinn to help him. The cleric walked all the way back to his room with him, steadying his balance with her reassuring hand.
Dressing took three times longer than it should have, but eventually with a great deal of help from Kaylinn, Duvan was clad in simple, black, linen pants and a tunic cinched at the waist with a white rope.
“Thank vou. Kavlinn.” he said. “Lead on.”
Duvan slipped on the sandals they had laid out for him and walked out of the room, leaning on Kaylinn when he needed it.
A special funeral pyre had been built in the center of the courtyard, and Slanya’s body lay on it. Draped over her body was cloth embroidered with Kelemvor’s scale. About thirty clerics and monks had gathered to pay their respects.
“Sister Slanya had no family,” Kaylinn said, raising her voice to address the entire group. “We were her family, and she was family to us.
“Of all the many sisters I have had, Slanya was my favorite. Resolute and ethical, she held to her code. She believed in order and in doing the right thing, despite the consequences.
“I shall miss her.”
Duvan stopped listening. He too would miss her. He too loved her.
Since Talfani had died, nobody had reached his heart the way Slanya had. It hurt so much. Worse than a penetrating wound that would not stop bleeding, the agony of loss was an injury that magic could not heal.
Several others spoke, but Duvan did not hear them. He reflected on his brief experiences with Slanya. He’d only known her a few days, but in that time she’d taught him to care again. She’d saved him from a life of cynical detachment and reckless self-pity. She’d rescued him from an eternity of boredom as a brick in the wall of Kelemvor’s city.
He’d hated her. He’d loved her. And now she was gone, and he would miss her so.
As he looked on, Kaylinn put a torch to the pyre. The kindling caught fire and soon was ablaze in flames licking the sky above the temple complex. Through the veil of heat and light, Duvan watched as Slanya’s corpse burned away.
A small group of monks sang a lament, the tune haunting against the rumble of the fire. The song seemed to reach into his heart and touch the most painful places, reminding him of the beauty and vivaciousness of his lost friend, of his lost sister. Of all his losses.
Duvan knew of only one way to make the pain in his chest stop hurting. Stop living, and the pain would cease. But that was not an option for him. He wanted to live, pain or no pain. He would accept Tyrangal’s invitation. Helping her was something he could believe in. Something that Slanya would approve of.
Duvan took a deep breath. Having a goala purpose filled his aching void. The pain was still there, the loss still acute. But he could go on. He could let her go, let both Slanya and Talfani go.
“Good-bye, my friend,” he whispered, staring into the flames. “May you find peace and contentment on your next journey.” Tears streamed down his cheeks as he watched her body burn.
“Good-bye.”