Adon stared at his hand in dumbfounded shock. Something was terribly wrong.

Broka grabbed Myron and pressed the blade to the innkeeper's throat. "Perhaps you'd remember your place if you looked more like your daughter," he hissed.

"Do something!" whispered Corene, stepping to Adon's side. Following her patriarch's lead, she had left her weapon on the table. "He'll be killed!"

Desperate to save the innkeeper, Adon attempted another spell. This time, a ray of green radiance sizzled from his fingertip, leaving a streak of white vapor in its wake. When the beam hit the blade, a high-pitched chime rang across the veranda. The knife shattered into a dozen shards.

Broka cried out in surprise, then tossed his useless hilt aside and stepped out of Myron's reach.

"Before you leave, I suggest you apologize to Sarafina and her father," Adon said.

Broka whirled around to face the cleric. "Do you know who I am?" he demanded.

"A bullyboy who torments women and hides behind his dagger," said Corene. "And it's a real shame, too. Before you behaved so badly, I thought you rather handsome."

Broka ignored Corene's rebuke and pointed at the castle on the far side of the village. "I'm seneschal to the lord of that castle," he reported. "And at present, I'm conducting my master's business. I suggest you keep out of it-or you'll be answering to him."

With that, he turned back to Myron. "My instructions are to examine your daughter's face," the seneschal said, staring into the innkeeper's eyes. "If you deny me again, I'll have your whole family lashed."

"Let him, Father," said Sarafina, reaching up to undo her veil. "It will cause me no pain to have him look."

As Myron reluctantly stepped aside, Broka smirked at him. "If your daughter cared about the women of Tegea as much as she does her family, she would come with me to the castle," he said. "Then, perhaps, your customers would forgive you for Sarafina's stubbornness."

"She's done nothing wrong," said Adon. He grabbed the seneschal by the arm. "After you apologize, you'll return to your master and tell him to leave Sarafina alone."

"By whose order?" Broka scoffed.

"By the command of Adon of Mystra, patriarch of the Servants of Mystery," volunteered Corene.

This only made the seneschal laugh. "My master recognizes the authority of no churches here," he said, returning his attention to the innkeeper's daughter. "Now, let me see what my lord's curse has done to your beauty."

Adon jerked Broka back, and the seneschal came around swinging. No stranger to a fight, the cleric blocked the punch easily. He countered by driving a palm into his foe's chin, at the same time slipping a foot behind an ankle and sweeping Broka off his feet. The seneschal slammed into the floor with a resounding thump, his pained cry leaving no doubt that his impact had been a hard one.

Adon placed a knee on Broka's ribs. "Apologize."

The seneschal's only reply was to utter a colorful curse.

"Perhaps you'd be more sympathetic if you weren't so handsome," said Corene.

The novice uttered a spell and touched Broka's brow. Her magic worked perfectly.

The seneschal's face darkened to a deep shade of red, then it erupted into a rash of boils and festering sores. Screaming in alarm, he crawled away and grabbed a piece of the mirror he had dropped when Myron pushed him.

"My face!" Broka howled, staring at himself in the shard.

"You've nothing to complain about," said Corene. "It's better suited to your personality."

The seneschal rose and faced the novice. "Lord Gorgias shall hear of this!"

"That's all I ask," said Adon, moving forward. "Now go!"

The seneschal flung the shard of mirror at Adon, who ducked it easily. As Broka fled, the patriarch turned to face Myron and Sarafina.

"Why don't you tell me more about Lord Gorgias and what he's done to Sarafina and your village?" the cleric asked, certain that his display of courage had won the confidence of his hosts.

"You're a madman!" roared Myron. "I want you out of my inn-now!"

Adon scowled. "What's wrong?" he demanded. "Can't you see that Corene and I are here to help you?"

"You mean to get us killed!" snapped Myron. "You insulted the duke's man. I only hope Lord Gorgias will settle for your lives and leave my family alone."

"He won't murder anyone," said Adon.

"It's kind to offer your protection, but you can't stop the duke," said Sarafina. "In Tegea, at least, no cleric can challenge his magic."

"His spells can't be more powerful than Mystra's," said Corene. "No mortal's can."

"Mystra's not here," Myron growled, pus.h.i.+ng Adon and his novice toward the exit. "And until you bring her back with you, you're not welcome, either." The innkeeper pushed them off the veranda, then took his daughter and went into the kitchen.

"What's going on here?" asked Corene, staring at the door through which Myron and Sarafina had disappeared.

"I don't know," said Adon, thinking more about his failed spell than Myron's ingrat.i.tude. "Did you notice that Mystra didn't respond when I asked for my first spell?"

Corene bit her lower lip and could not quite bring herself to meet Adon's gaze. "Maybe we're in an area of especially wild magic," she suggested. "Since the Time of Troubles, no one's really bothered to map out all the places where the G.o.ds' fall made spells unpredictable. Tegea could be-"

"The devoted of Mystra need not refrain from casting spells in areas known for wild magic," Adon said pedantically, then faced the young woman. "You know that as well as I do. Besides, we can both guess why my first spell didn't succeed."

The novice shook her head. "There must be another explanation."

"No. What happened is a sign of Mystra's disappointment in me," he said. "If I don't discover why she's displeased with me before we leave Tegea, I fear I never will."

When the sun rose the next morning, it found Adon standing in the center of Tegea. Behind him, a bubbling spring spilled out of the mountainside to fill a stone basin with cold, clear water. In front of him was a small plaza enclosed by the stone walls of several two-story houses. Dozens of women wearing white blouses and colorful skirts stood in the square, their heads swaddled in black shawls and veils. In their hands, they held the empty wooden buckets they filled each morning at the water basin.

"Mystra's magic will protect you from Lord Gorgias," said Adon, one hand casually resting on the head of his mace. "All I need from you is one who'll trust me to prove it."

When none of the women stepped forward to volunteer, Corene moved into the crowd and touched the veil of a thin woman. "Come now, do you wish to wear these masks for the rest of your lives?"

"What's done is done," said the woman. "Sarafina thought she was too beautiful to marry the duke, and now we must all live with the consequences."

"This is not Sarafina's doing!" boomed Adon. "Lord Gorgias cursed your village, and it's cowardice to blame Sarafina because she won't yield to his demands."

"That's easy enough for you to say," yelled a matronly woman. "You don't live in Tegea."

A chorus of agreement answered from the crowd, then another woman said, "Even if you can help us, what happens when you leave?"

"I'll tell you what happens," said the thin woman. "Lord Gorgias punishes us for defying him."

"No, he won't," said Corene, stepping to her patriarch's side. She gave Adon a dutiful glance, then added, "I'll be staying behind to make sure that doesn't happen."

"A lot of good she'll do us," said the matronly woman, glaring at Adon. "If your idea of bravery is to leave a little girl behind to fight the duke, I want nothing to do with you."

"Inside a week, she'll be scrubbing Lord Gorgias's floors and begging for gruel," called another.

"No!" cried Adon. "With the power of Our Lady, she's strong enough to prevail over any foe-even Lord Gorgias."

From the back of the plaza, a familiar voice called, "Then let her prove it." A narrow lane opened in the crowd, and Sarafina walked forward, a pair of empty water pails in her hands. When she reached the basin, she dropped the buckets at Corene's feet, then reached up to her veil. "If you are strong enough to protect us from Lord Gorgias, then make me beautiful again."

"No, Sarafina!" shouted the matron. "If you ask strangers for help, we'll all pay the price."

"At least we still have our hands to work with," cried another woman. "Don't make Lord Gorgias any angrier, or he'll take those away, too."

The thin woman stepped toward Sarafina. "Haven't you caused enough trouble already?"

"I'm suffering the same as you-probably more so, considering the hards.h.i.+p your anger has caused my family's inn," Sarafina replied. "But the duke is evil, and I'd rather die than marry him."

"There are tortures worse than death," said the thin woman. "And your stubbornness is visiting them upon us all."

"If you prize your appearance so highly, then you marry him," countered Sarafina, ripping off her veil. "As for me, I'll parade my ugliness past all the men of the village before I sell my virtue and yield to the duke."

Adon gasped at what the duke's curse had done to Sarafina's face. From the eyes downward, her appearance was that of a monster. She had shriveled green skin, stretched tight over a dozen bony lumps jutting out from her face. Her nose was hideously pointed and covered with carbuncles, while her lips were frozen into an ugly sneer that revealed a mouthful of jagged, yellow teeth. From her chin sprouted a short gray horn, which curled back toward her throat.

All of these deformities, however, could not hide Sarafina's inner beauty. She held her head high and met Aden's gaze without shame, her strength and determination showing in her unwavering brown eyes. In a steady voice, she asked the patriarch, "Now who's gaping?"

The cleric did not look away. "If I am staring, it's because I am captivated by your spirit," he said honestly, stepping toward her. "It's not because the duke's pitiful mask has engrossed me."

"All the same, the people of Tegea won't trust your novice until she proves her power," said Sarafina, facing Corene. "Give me back what Lord Gorgias has stolen."

Corene cast a nervous glance at her patriarch. Adon nodded at her. "Lift the curse," he said. "Trust in Mystra. You have more than enough power."

The novice's eyes ranged over Adon's scar, then she swallowed hard. "If you think so." She laid a hand on Sarafina's deformed face, then spoke her incantation.

A yellow radiance spread outward from the novice's hand and crept across Sarafina's visage. The young woman's skin returned to its normal swarthy color, and the lumpy protrusions covering her face began to subside. The carbuncles on her nose slowly healed, and her gray horn began to soften and shrink.

An astonished murmur rustled through the crowd.

"You see?" cried Adon, facing the women. "Armed with Mystra's magic, even a novice can undo Lord Gorgias's-"

An alarmed cry from Corene cut his statement short. When Adon looked back, he saw that a gray shadow was replacing the golden luminescence of Corene's magic. As it worked its way over Sarafina's face, the young woman's newly restored beauty was replaced with the hideous mask of Lord Gorgias's curse.

When the shadow touched Corene's fingers, she screamed and pulled away. The grayness followed her hand, quickly gliding up her arm. The terrified novice plunged her hand into the water and desperately tried to scrub the thing off, but her efforts were to no avail. The shadow slipped over her shoulder and onto her face. It lingered there for an instant, then faded away as rapidly as it had appeared.

For a moment, Corene remained where she was, staring into the basin's rippling waters. Then, all at once, a horrified howl escaped her lips and she threw herself at Adon. "Forgive me!" she screeched, wrapping her arms around his chest. "It was your scar. It made me doubt Our Lady!"

Adon pried Corene away and looked at her. From her cheeks downward, her skin had become leathery and shriveled. Her b.u.t.ton nose had tripled in size and turned red, with gaping pink nostrils larger than those of a swine. Her lips were covered with black bristles and curled back, while a fringe of silky white wool hung from her jawline.

"I understand," Adon whispered. "Don't worry. I'll set things right."

"How?" demanded the matron. "By staying here yourself?"

The patriarch shook his head. "My duties in Arabel-"

"Then I suggest you return to Arabel right away. Just leave us to our troubles," said the thin woman, moving forward. "Now stand aside so I can fill my bucket."

Corene blocked her path. "You don't understand. This failure was mine, not Mystra's."

"Our Lady of Mysteries is the patroness of magic itself," Adon explained. "No mortal's spell can withstand her power."

A deep voice boomed across the plaza. "But your G.o.ddess is not here, and I am!"

A hulking, leather-clad figure lumbered out of the lane. Although he had a hunched back and a gnarled frame, he stood half again taller than any normal man. His legs were thin and so badly bowed that he seemed to scuttle rather than walk. One gaunt arm hung so low that his knuckles dragged on the cobblestones, while the other was twisted and held to his chest at an awkward angle.

The newcomer had a face as horrible as any Adon had ever seen. It was impossibly haggard and covered with cracked, black skin. The figure's brow jutted out so far that it cast an impenetrable shadow over his eyes. His nose was as narrow as a dagger blade, his cheekbones were grotesquely misshaped, and a pair of yellow tusks curled up from beneath his lower lip.

Behind the figure stood Broka, wearing his fur-trimmed cape and purple c.u.mmerbund. His face remained covered with boils, and his swollen nose and black eyes suggested that he had suffered a harsh beating after returning to Castle Gorgias last night.

As the women began to scurry for their homes, the seneschal yelled, "Stay! The duke wishes you to see what pa.s.ses here."

The crowd stopped moving instantly, leaving a wide swath of open plaza between the gruesome figure and the patriarch. Adon stepped away from Sarafina. "Lord Gorgias?"

The duke tipped his head in acknowledgement and scuttled forward. "I've come to thank you for the change in my seneschal," he, said, waving his gangling arm at Broka's ulcerating face. "He's much more interesting to look upon."

"Perhaps to you," Adon allowed.

The duke stopped a dozen steps away. "And now that I have expressed my grat.i.tude, you and your novice must go," he said. "Had you called at my castle when you arrived, you and I might have had an interesting debate regarding the Church of Mysteries-with a few hours on the rack to help you think clearly. As it is, however, I cannot allow you to spread your lies among my villagers."

Adon shook his head. "We won't leave while your curse remains on Tegea."

"Curse! Do you think I would curse the woman I love?" demanded the duke, gesturing in Sarafina's direction. "I'm broadening her sense of beauty, so that she'll appreciate the subtle elegance of my form."

"It's not your form that repulses me!" Sarafina snapped. "I loathe what you are inside."

"And what am I-inside?"

"A tyrant, as cruel as you are vain," said Sarafina. "I'd rather die alone than marry you!"

A forked tongue flickered between the duke's lips. "I wonder if the other women of Tegea share your feelings?"

"No!" screamed several of the women in the square.

"Go with him now, or you'll make widows of us all," ordered the matron, stepping toward Sarafina. Others moved to back her up, but Corene quickly drew her flail and blocked the women's path.

Adon pulled a pinch of yellow brimstone from the pocket of his cloak. He uttered a silent prayer to Mystra, begging her to look favorably on the spell he was preparing to cast, then said, "Lord Gorgias will kill no one."

"Perhaps not-if you're gone by dusk," said the duke, fixing his shadowed eyes on the cleric. "But if you're still here after highsun, every man in this village will die. Mark my words."

"If you threaten others, I've no choice but to strike you down in Mystra's name!"

As the patriarch raised his arms to cast the spell, the women screamed in alarm and fled the plaza. The duke merely smiled while a fiery breach opened in the sky above his head. A pillar of flame crackled down toward his face. He watched it come, laughing wildly.