Wayfarer of Sune (Book 2 of the Wanderer's Tales)

Wayfarer of Sune

Prelude

(28th of Flamerule, 1491 Dalereckoning)

The being that was once and would be again drifted through clouds of astral mist and tenebrous motes of sparkling energy amid an infinite darkness, the visual stimuli reminiscent of the cosmos surrounding Abeir-Toril, now soon to be merely Toril once again. He considered the thought and found it equally appropriate and humorous...

For Guardian now roamed the Fugue Plane; the crossroads of the realms, where mortal souls went to their gods and devils to receive their judgment, and ultimate punishment or reward, a place, quite poignantly, nearly as infinite as the outer reaches of space. A few of the former never made it to their destination.

He took no pleasure in preying upon them, these wicked beings, but while he perceived and interpreted, he lacked the immediacy of a truly sentient being to lament his actions.

Guardian simply knew he needed to grow stronger, if he was ever to leave the Fugue Plane himself.

The notion of it consumed him, riveting him to his task, in acclimating to the weft and flow energies. They too, he could absorb at will, courtesy of the unique magic absorbing aura that Kaileena, his ward and so much more it seemed, had unwittingly passed to him.

It had sufficed, for a time...

But now, he was nearly there. Nearly ready. A small sacrifice, that a soul might return to the living, rather than leave it.

"Soon, my Little Fox." he whispered, "Soon, we will meet in the flesh. In the flesh, ...and of your flesh."

Chapter 1

Teneth's Festhall, Suzail, Cormyr

(29th of Flamerule, 1491 Dalereckoning)

Kaileena couldn't see the sunrise, but she felt it, intuited in the faint song echoing through the thick walls of Teneth's Festhall. A song that was not of sound, but heard by all who worshiped there regardless.

She rose, blinking, her forked tongue tasting the air confusedly. In her bed; a quality feather-down affair with a wooden frame and curtains, she was alone. Pity.

Saddened, but in a distant sort of way, for it was her place at times, she pulled herself out and removed the sheets, folding them neatly and placing them in a basket in the closet. The stains of her recent attentions would need laundering.

Drawing fresh ones, she set her bed and closed the frame curtains, ignoring the dryness in her mouth, not to mention the unpleasant aftertaste. Her client had drank heavily last night, and insisted she do the same. Her slight frame didn't handle ale very well...

Outside the door there was hot water for the tub, fine porcelain, another luxury they all enjoyed. Kaileena didn't know how the staff knew when she, and all the others, woke, but the water was always hot, as if it'd just been set there.

Smiling, she set the bath, leaning back into the bowl of the tub, and relaxed for a time.

Her room was lavishly decorated with furnishings and artwork, purchased by the earnings of her profession. She'd developed a particular fondness for butterflies, and a few of the paintings reflected that, including a watercolor of a Moonlight Butterfly, a massive Outsider species composed of living magic. Its pale green, luminescent body seemed to burst with multicolored sparkles captured perfectly by a master artist, and its helix spiral horn seemed to catch the light like polished mithral.