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Evermore: The Gathering	By : RosaTenebrum Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 9663 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Dragonlance series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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CHAPTER 15

Revered Son Zoltan's head ached and his eyes stung for want of sleep. This damned business. It kept him awake at nights, his mind racing around a track of worry and terror, wild thoughts chasing each other around his brain until dawn. But he would not give up. It was his sacred mission to put Paladine's church back on the right track, and whoever claimed such a task would be easy? Not I, he thought, feeling terribly, insurmountably weary as he listened to Acolyte Adik present the evidence he and Acolyte Farag had managed to collect.

"... and yesterday we met someone at a tavern with first-hand experience of how Revered Daughter Crysania handles things. We were told that when she was an acolyte still, she'd visited this poor family who had lost what little they had in a fire. Their house, their meagre fortune, their livestock... All went up in flames. Revered Father Elistan had sent Lady Crysania to minister to them, which turned out to be a disaster. This man that we met - he was the father of the family, see - said that his wife didn't like her at all, no one in the family did, and they'd made it clear to the church that someone else should be sent in the future."

Adik had said his say. Farag stood at his shoulder, nodding eagerly even when the narrative was already over.

Zoltan stared at the two young men, discouraged. That was it? That was all the evidence? After almost a week of digging?

It was a young acolyte whose name Zoltan had forgotten that spoke first, evidently convinced that the story they'd just heard carried lots of weight. "So what did she do to upset them so?" he asked with keen interest in his rather unmanly voice.

"Well, according to the father," said Acolyte Adik, pleased to play the part of the village gossip, "she had an affected air and a disdainful look as she was listening to their woes and trying to comfort them. He said it was like her heart wasn't in it."

Nodding eagerly, Farag chimed in. "Paladine says this, Paladine says that, sure, but no real connection. Like she was just showing off her reading."

"Yes. And after she'd left, the family only felt worse, if that was even possible. What was it again that the father said, Adik?"

"He said something like, they felt they could never live up to Paladine -"

"Oh yes, and that they were no more than some unfortunate splash of mud on the Revered Daughter's shiny white shoes."

"Like the fire was their own fault, he said that too." Adik sighed and shook his head. "I'm telling you they're astounded that she's going to be the leader of the church, completely astounded."

"Needless to say, brothers," Farag concluded, "news like that has severely undermined their trust and confidence in the church and its officers."

They had come to the end of their report. The other acolytes and the few Revered Sons in the room - they were a thirty-three-strong group now - were looking at each other quietly and thoughtfully, evaluating the worth of the statements presented to them.

"We've heard similar accounts before, have we not?" Revered Son Emerick eventually inquired, and a spirited conversation ensued.

"She didn't do well in her early days in the church, that's for sure."

"We know people rarely sought her guidance..."

"And what about the story that some of her fellow acolytes called her 'princess' behind her back because of her airs and graces?"

"That's what she was. Well, almost."

"Yes, just a rich little girl playng at being a cleric. What would she know of hardship and suffering?"

"Haughty and uptight, that's the main impression people got."

Revered Son Zoltan swallowed, listening to his colleagues. Haughty. Adik couldn't have picked a better word. Zoltan remembered that one moment so well, still, in the corridor behind the lodgings leading to the temple library... "Thank you, Acolytes Adik and Farag," he said stiffly, hoping the brief emotion had not shown on his face. "You've given us valuable insight into the Revered Daughter's character."

Everyone turned to look at their leader expectantly.

"I'm glad to tell you," Zoltan began, "that my own investigations during the past week have convinced me that Lady Crysania Tarinius" - he emphasized her title and family name with unashamed loathing - "did indeed inherit the family fortune soon after she joined the church. Her parents Lady Amelia and Lord Eldon Tarinius died from the plague at Winter Pines Hall, the ancestral family home of the Tarinii, not half a year after her arrival." Zoltan looked down at the church ledgers he had brought with him. "No renovations. No major charity donations." He looked at the men again and shrugged. "Where is the money?"

"What if," someone suggested promptly, "after she got the inheritance, what if she continued to bribe Revered Father Elistan in order to rise ever higher?"

"Yes, and then got the money back when Elistan died?"

"It's possible," Zoltan said to the young man who had spoken first. "Could you please try and find out more about that, Acolyte Galeren?"

The acolyte agreed enthusiastically, scribbling a note in the margin of his book.

All of a sudden Zoltan felt sorry for him, growing more and more certain that he was sending them all on a wild-goose chase. "As to her relationship with Revered Father Elistan," he resumed distractedly, going through the list in his hand, "we're going to have to interview those who were at the temple at the time of her entrance. Not just clerics, but anyone who might have seen or heard something. Gardeners, cooks... Anyone that comes to mind. And then there is the matter of her whereabouts between Mishamont 356 and Corij 357 which should be looked into."

Zoltan trailed off, with that awful feeling still in the pit of his stomach. Dead ends. He knew both those lines of investigation would be dead ends. He could not believe it, did not want to believe it, but that's what it was starting to look like: the Revered Daughter was as clean as a baby's bum, as Adik had so eloquently put it. But, after everything was said and done, no matter how many dead ends he would have to face and no matter how perfect the lady's reputation, there remained the Blood Sea scrolls, firm and consoling in their steadfastness: A venerable man shall represent me on earth; it is for him to teach my creed. His strength, his justification to which he returned when all else failed, the very foundation of his holy war. Paladine's own words: enough for him, though not nearly enough for the people of Palanthas. They needed something more than just words to be persuaded, but time was running out frighteningly fast and they had nothing, nothing but alehouse rantings. To every bad testimonial there were at least ten good ones, praising the Revered Daughter's compassion and genuine piety. The folks were dazzled by her youth, dazzled by her looks. You could not fight that with a bit of text from an old parchment. The people would never sign a petition based on a line from the Holy Scriptures they could hardly understand.

The heat was intolerable; Zoltan unbuttoned the collar of his white robe but felt no better. "Let me remind you again, gentlemen, before we conclude for today, that we must abstain from disseminating malicious rumours. We do not fight this war with lies. We fight this war with Paladine's truth." He looked up at the door, slightly annoyed by the sudden noise. "Acolyte Gefroy, you're late."

"Cry pardon, good sirs, but I can explain." Gefroy was sweaty and out of breath as he charged into the room, but he did not have the patience to even sit down or wait for permission to speak. "I come from the archives, see. I've been two days going through the records by the acolytes describing their Tests of Faith, starting when Lady Crysania joined the church until her creation as a Revered Daughter of Paladine. And do you know what I've discovered?" Gefroy's brown eyes glittered; he could hardly contain his excitement. "There is no record of her Test in the archives!" he blurted out. "I've looked and looked, but it does not exist."

There was a long quiet pause as the information sank in. Then Zoltan stood up abruptly. "Gefroy, you genius, genius man!" he shouted, watching the young acolyte humbly bow his head. "Do you see what this means?" he asked everyone, filling with wonderful new hope and joy. "Revered Sons amongst us! Like me, you have all submitted your visions in written form to the archives, have you not? Why, is it not the first thing we are required to do after we receive our vision from the Platinum Father?"

Exchanged glances; agreeable nods and sounds.

"So if that be the case, my good gentlemen, does it not follow that the record of Lady Crysania's vision should be in the archives as well? And if such a thing cannot be located, well, I'm afraid the answer is simple: she never had her vision in the first place and Paladine never sent her a Test of Faith. And if she never received her vision, it can only mean that..."

"That Paladine did not accept her?" Acolyte Galeren said tentatively.

"Good man. It can only mean that Paladine never accepted her, and therefore she is not, and never has been, a Revered Daughter of the Platinum Father."

An uproar broke out when everyone figured this out. In the middle of it, Zoltan closed his eyes and, certain of his logic, ardently thanked Paladine for providing them with the first hard evidence against her. So she was a fraud and a liar. This was something Zoltan had not expected, although he had known from the beginning, when they had been acolytes together, that she was an arrogant and selfish woman who would do anything to gain promotion and authority. But still: how dare she pose as a cleric and debase the holy orders like that? They needed some more evidence, of course, but this was definitely a place to start. Soon those stubborn fools of the vestry - Bogos, Belarius, Senior Warden Aegon most of all - could not but listen to what they had to say.

"Thank you, Acolyte Gefroy," Zoltan raised his voice above the babble, silencing everyone. "You have done us a great service. Who knows, maybe soon enough you will be submitting your own vision to the archives."

Gefroy took a bow and sat down amongst his fellows, his face shining with earthly pride.

Zoltan's eyes travelled from face to face of their small gathering. "A new church is on the making, my brethren, and we are its building stones. All of us. You, Acolyte Randull, and you, Acolyte Wimarc," he said, addressing the insecure youths who were looking at him admiringly. "A church that rests on Paladine's true, ancient word. No corruption. A fresh start, as Paladine would have wanted it."

Satisfied with the day's work, Zoltan explained their next steps and set the date of their next meeting. Finally he reminded them of the importance of recruiting new people to their cause and then led the group into a closing prayer.

Afterwards, when he was collecting his papers, he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw Farag looking at him.

"We just wanted to tell you that we're so very grateful to you, Zoltan," said Farag, "for opening our eyes before it's too late."

Zoltan smiled at the man, his heart filling with warmth and almost fatherly pride. Farag was such a passionate young acolyte, entirely committed and devoted; one day he would make an excellent cleric. "Farag, my dear friend," he said, "let us pray it is not too late. If this new clue should fail..." He sighed. "But, do you know, we should take great comfort and joy from the knowledge that we're doing everything we can for Paladine's church. After all, there is no other way to displace the Revered Daughter than our current enterprise."

"Yes, there is." Farag looked at him gravely.
There was a coldness in his eyes that made Zoltan's skin crawl.
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Evermore: The Gathering