always find new dreams. And I am certainly not ready to
give up bargaining. I’ll make my fortune yet, you’ll see.”
Trevarre laughed, a sound like music. “I have no doubt
of that”
They were silent for a time, but then Matya spoke
softly. “You would do the same again, wouldn’t you, if you
heard a call for help?”
Trevarre shrugged. “The Measure is not something I
can follow only when it suits me. It is my life, Matya, for
good or ill. It is what I am.”
Matya nodded, as if this confirmed something for her.
“The tales are right then. The Knights of Solamnia ARE
little better than fools.” She smiled mischievously. “But
there’s one more bargain that must be struck.”
“Which is?” Trevarre asked, raising an eyebrow.
“What are you going to give me in return for taking
you to Garnet?” Matya asked slyly.
“I’ll give you five gold pieces,” Trevarre said flatly.
“I’ll not take less than fifty!” Matya replied, indignant.
“Fifty? Why, that’s highway robbery,” Trevarre
growled.
“All right,” Matya said briskly. “I’m in a kindly mood,
so I’ll make it twenty, but not one copper less.”
Trevarre stroked his moustache
thoughtfully. “Very well. I will accept
your offer, Matya, but on one condition.”
“Which is?” Matya asked, skeptical.
A smile touched Trevarre’s lips. “You must allow
me this.” He took Matya’s hand, brought it
to his lips, and kissed it.
The bargain had been struck.
SEEKERS
TODD FAHNESTOCK
Gylar Radilan, of Lader’s Knoll, set his mother’s hand back onto her
chest, over the rumpled blanket. It was done then. Gylar wasn’t sure
whether to be relieved or to crumple into the corner and cry. Finally,
though, it was done. Stepping back, he fell into the chair he’d put by
her bed, the chair he’d sat upon all night while holding her hand.
His head bowed for a moment as he thought about the
past few days. The Silent Death had swept through the
entire village, killing everyone. It had been impossible to
detect its coming. There were no early symptoms. One
minute, people were laughing and playing – like Lutha, the
girl he had known – and the next, they were in bed,
complaining weakly of the icy cold they felt, but burning to
the touch. Their skin darkened to a ghastly purple as they
coughed up thicker and thicker phlegm, and in a few hours
their bodies locked up as with rigor mortis.
Poor Lutha. Gylar swallowed and sniffed back tears.
She’d been the first one, the one who had brought about the
downfall of the village. Gylar could remember going with
her into the new marsh, the marsh that hadn’t been there
before the world shook. People had told their children
repeatedly not to go in. They said it had all sorts of evils in
it, but that had never stopped Lutha. She’d never listened to
her parents much, and once she got something into her
head, there was no balking her. She’d had to know about
their tree, his and her tree.
Now she was dead. Now everyone was dead. Everyone,
of course, except Gylar. For some reason, he hadn’t been
affected, or at least not yet. His parents had seemed to be
immune as well, until the day they collapsed in their beds,
shivering.
Gylar rose and crossed the room. He looked out the
window to the new day that was shining its light across the
hazy horizon and sifting down over the trees skirting the
new marsh. He clenched his teeth as a tear finally fell from
his eye. If it hadn’t been for the marsh, none of this would
have happened! Lutha never would have brought the evil
back with her, and everyone would be okay. But, no, the
gods had thrown the fiery mountain. They’d cracked the
earth, and the warm water had come up from below, and
with it whatever had killed the town.
Gylar banged his small hand on the windowsill. Why
did they do it? The villagers all had been good people.
Paladine had been their patron; Gylar’s mother had been
meticulously devoted to her god, teaching Gylar to be the
same. She had loved Paladine, more than anyone in the