Amber and Blood

by Margaret Weis

  She slipped her shoe back on her foot and stood up and started walking. She seemed bound to try to convince herself that she felt nothing and tried to walk normally, but she could not stand it. Wincing in pain, she came to a halt.

  “You were a god,” she said. “Do you remember anything of what you were? Do you remember the moment before creation? Does your mind yet encompass the vastness of eternity? Do you see to the limits of heaven?”

  “No,” Valthonis answered. “My mind is that of a mortal. I see the horizon and sometimes not that, if the clouds obscure it. I am glad for this. I think it would be too terrible to bear otherwise.”

  “It is,” said Mina softly.

  She yanked off both her shoes and threw them off the side of the cliff. She started walking barefoot, stepping gingerly on the path, and almost immediately cut her foot on a sharp pebble. She gasped and came up short. She clenched her fists in frustration.

  “I am a god!” she cried. “I have no feet!”

  She stared at her bare toes, as if willing them to disappear.

  Her toes remained, wriggling and digging into the dust.

  Mina moaned and sank down, crouched down, huddled into herself.

  “How can I be a god if I will always be a mortal? How can I walk among the stars when I have blisters on my feet? I don’t know how to be a god, Father! I know only how to be human …”

  Valthonis put his arms around her and lifted her up. “You need walk no farther, daughter. We are here,” he said.

  Mina stared at him, bewildered. “Where?”

  “Home,” he replied.

  In the center of a smooth-sided, bowl-shaped valley, nineteen pillars stood silent watch around a circular pool of shining black, fire-blasted obsidian. Sixteen pillars stood together. Three pillars stood apart. One of these was black jet, one red granite, the other white jade. Five of the remaining pillars were of white marble. Five were of black marble. Six were made of marble of an indeterminate color.

  Once twenty-one pillars had guarded the pool. Two of them had toppled to the ground. One, a black pillar, had shattered in the fall. Nothing remained of it but a heap of broken rubble. The other fallen pillar was still intact, its surface shining in the sunlight, swept free of dust by loving hands.

  Mina and Valthonis stood outside the stone pillars, looking in. The sky was cloudless, achingly blue. The sun teetered precariously on the peaks of the Lords of Doom, still casting its radiant light, though any moment it would slide down the mountain and fall into night. The valley was filled with the twilight; shadows cast by the mountains, sunlight gleaming on the obsidian pool.

  Mina gazed with rapt fascination on the black pool. She walked toward it, prepared to squeeze her way through the narrow gap between two pillars, when she realized Valthonis was no longer at her side. She turned to see him standing near the small crack in the rock wall through which they had entered.

  “The pain will never end, will it?” she asked.

  His answer was his silence.

  Mina unwrapped the artifacts of Paladine and Takhisis and held them, one in each hand. She lay the scrip that had belonged to the monk at the foot of a pillar of white marble streaked with orange, then walked between the pillars and stepped onto the pool of shining black obsidian. Lifting her amber eyes, she stared into the heavens and saw the constellations of the gods shining in the sky.

  The gods of light, represented by Branchala’s harp, Habbakuk’s phoenix, the bison’s head of Kiri-Jolith, Majere’s rose, the infinity symbol of Mishakal. Opposing them were the gods of darkness, Chemosh with his goat’s skull, Hiddukel’s broken scales, Morgion’s black hood, Sargonnas’s condor, Zeboim’s dragon turtle. Separating darkness and light, yet keeping them together was Gilean’s Book, the forge-fire of Reorx, the steadfast burning planets of Shinare, Chislev, Zivilyn, Sirrion. Nearer to mortals than the stars were the three moons: the black moon of Nuitari, the red moon of Lunitari, the silver moon of Solinari.

  Mina saw them.

  And they saw her, all of them.

  They watched and waited for her to decide.

  Standing in the center of the pool, Mina raised up the artifacts, one in each hand.

  “I am equal parts of darkness and of light,” she cried to the heavens. “Neither holds sway over me. I may side sometimes with one and sometimes with the other. And thus the balance is restored.”

  Mina held up the Necklace of Sedition of Takhisis; the necklace that could persuade good people to give way to their worst passions, and then she cast it onto the obsidian pool. The necklace struck the dark surface and melted into it and vanished. Mina held the crystal pyramid of Paladine in her hand a moment longer, the crystal that could bring light to a benighted heart. Then she cast it down as well. The crystal sparkled like another star in an obsidian night, but only briefly. The light went out, the crystal shattered.

  Turning her back, Mina walked out of the obsidian pool. She walked away from the circle of stone guardians. She walked across the floor of the empty, barren valley, walked barefoot, her cut and blistered feet leaving tracks of blood.

  She walked until she came to a place in the valley known as Godshome where the shadows vied with the sun and here she stopped. Her back to the gods, she looked down at her feet, and she wept and left the world.

  In the valley known as Godshome, a pillar of amber stood alone and apart in a still pool of night-blue water.

  No stars were reflected in the water. No moons or sun. No planet. No valley. No mountains.

  Valthonis, looking into the pool, saw his own face there.

  Saw the faces of all the living.

  hys Mason sat beneath an ancient oak tree near the top of a green, grass-covered hill. He could see in the distance the smoke rising from the chimneys of his monastery, the home to which he had returned after his long, long journey. Some of the brothers were in the field, turning over the ground, awakening the earth after its winter slumber, making it ready for planting. Other of the brethren were busy around the monastery, sweeping and cleaning, repairing the stonework that had been gnawed and worried by the bitter winter winds.

  The sheep were scattered about the hillside, grazing contently, glad to be eating the tender green grass after the stale hay on which they’d subsisted during the cold months. Spring meant shearing time and lambing and then Rhys would be busy. But, for the moment, all was peaceful.

  Atta lay by his side. She had a scar on her flank where her fur would not grow, but otherwise she had recovered from her injuries, as Rhys had recovered from his. Atta’s gaze was now divided between the sheep (always a worry) and her new litter of pups. Only a few months old, the pups were already showing a strong interest in herding, and Rhys had started training them. He and the pups had worked all morning, and the exhausted pups were now sleeping in a furry black and white heap, pink noses twitching. Rhys had marked one already—the boldest and most adventuresome—to give to Mistress Jenna.

  Rhys sat at his ease, his emmide resting in the crook of his arms. He was wrapped in a thick cloak, for though the sun shone, the wind still nipped with winter’s teeth. His mind floated free among the high, feathery clouds, touching lightly on many things and passing on to others; in all things honoring Majere.

  Rhys was alone on the hillside, for the sheep were his care and his responsibility, and he was therefore startled to be lured from his reverie by a voice.

  “Hullo, Rhys! I’ll bet you’re surprised to see me!”

  Rhys had to admit he was surprised. Surprised was hardly the word, in fact, for sitting calmly by his side was Nightshade.

  The kender grinned gleefully at Rhys’s shock. “I’m a ghost, Rhys! That’s why I look washed out and wobbly. Isn’t it exciting? I’m haunting you.”

  Nightshade grew suddenly concerned. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

  “No,” Rhys said, though it took him a moment to find his voice.

  Hearing her master speak, Atta lifted her head and glanced over her shoulder to see
if she was wanted.

  “Hi, Atta!” Nightshade waved. “Your puppies are beautiful. They look just like you.”

  Atta’s eyes narrowed. She sniffed the air, sniffed again, thought things over, then, dismissing what she did not understand, rested her head on her paws and went back to watching her charges.

  “I’m glad I didn’t scare you,” Nightshade continued. “I keep forgetting I’m dead and I have an unfortunate tendency to drop in on people suddenly. Poor Gerard.” The ghost heaved a sigh. “I thought he was going to have an apologetic fit.”

  “Apoplectic,” Rhys corrected, smiling.

  “That, too,” said Nightshade solemnly. “He went extremely white and started wheezing, and then he vowed he would never touch another drop of dwarf spirits as long as he lived. When I tried to cheer him up by assuring him I wasn’t a hallu—a halluci—that he wasn’t seeing things and that I was real live ghost, he began to wheeze even harder.”

  “Did he recover?” Rhys asked.

  “I think so,” Nightshade said cautiously. “Gerard scolded me soundly after that. He told me I’d taken ten years off his life and then he said he had enough trouble with living kender and he wasn’t about to be plagued by a dead one and I was to go back to the Abyss or wherever it was I’d come from. I told him I wasn’t in the Abyss. I’d been on a world tour, and that I understood his feelings perfectly, and I’d just stopped in to say ‘thank you’ for all the kind things he said about me at my funeral.

  “I was there, by the way. It was really lovely. So many important people came! Mistress Jenna and the Abbot of Majere and the Walking God and the elves and Galdar and a minotaur delegation. I especially enjoyed the fight in the bar afterward, though I guess that wasn’t really part of the funeral. And I like having my ashes scattered underneath the Inn. Makes me feel that part of me will never leave. Sometimes I think I can smell the spiced potatoes, which is odd, since ghosts can’t smell. Why do you suppose that is?”

  Rhys had to admit he didn’t know.

  Nightshade gave a shrug, then frowned. “Where was I?”

  “You were talking about Gerard—”

  “Oh, yes, I told him I’d come to good-bye before I started on the next stage of my journey, which, by the way, is going to be extremely exciting. I’ll tell you why in a minute. It has to do with my grasshopper. Anyway, Gerard wished me luck and escorted me to the door and opened it to let me out. I said he didn’t need to open the door because I can whisk right through doors and walls and even ceilings. He told me I wasn’t to go whisking through his door or his wall. He was quite stern about it, so I didn’t. And I don’t think he was serious when he said he going to swear off dwarf spirits, because after I left I saw him grab the jug and take a big swig.”

  “Did you say good-bye to anyone else?” Rhys asked, considerably alarmed at the thought.

  Nightshade nodded. “I went to visit Laura. After what happened with Gerard, I thought I’d sneak up on Laura gradually—you know, give her time to get used to me.” The ghost sighed. “But that didn’t make any difference. She screamed and threw her apron over her head and broke a whole stack of dirty dishes when she fell into the wash basin. So I thought it would be best if I didn’t stick around. Now I’m here with you, and you’re my last stop, and then I’m off for good.”

  “I am glad to see you, my friend,” said Rhys. “I have missed you very much.”

  “I know,” said Nightshade. “I felt you missing me. It was a good feeling, but you mustn’t be sad. That’s what I came to tell you. I’m sorry it took so long for me to get here. Time doesn’t have much meaning for me anymore and there were so many places to visit and so much to see. Do you know there’s a whole ‘nother continent! It’s called Taladas and it’s a very interesting place, though that’s not where I’m going on my soul’s journey—Oh, that reminds me. I have to tell you about Chemosh.

  “The ghosts I talked to when I was a Nightstalker told me how when you die your soul goes before the Lord of Death to be judged. I was looking forward to that part and it was very exciting. I stood in line with a whole bunch of other souls: goblins and draconians, kender and humans, elves and gnomes and ogres and more. Each soul goes up before the Lord of Death, who sits on an enormous throne—very impressive. Sometimes he tries to tempt them to stay with him. Or sometimes they’re already sworn to follow him or some other god, like Morgion, who is not a nice person, let me tell you! And sometimes other gods come to tell Chemosh that he’s to keep his hands off. Reorx did that for a dwarf.

  “So I was standing there in the back of the line, thinking it was going to take me a long, long time to reach the front, when suddenly the Lord of Death bolts up from his throne. He walks down the line and comes to stand in front of me! He glares at me quite fiercely and looks very angry and tells me I can go. I said I didn’t mind staying; I was visiting with some friends, and that was true. I’d run into some dead kender and we were talking about how interesting it was being dead, and we described how each of us had died and they all agreed that none of them could top me since I’d been killed by a god.

  “I started to explain this Chemosh, but he snarled and said he wasn’t interested. My soul had already been judged, and I was free to go. I looked around, and there was the White Lady and Majere and Zeboim and all three moon gods, and Kiri-Jolith in his shining armor and some other gods I didn’t recognize and even Sargonnas! I wondered what they were all doing there, but the White Lady said they’d come to honor me, though Zeboim said she’d come just to make sure I was really dead. The gods all shook my hand, and when I came to Majere, he touched the grasshopper that was still pinned to my shirt, and he said that it would let me jump forward to see where I was going and then jump back to say goodbye. And I was just telling Mishakal how much I liked her gingerbread and I was about ready to leave when who do you think came to see me?”

  Rhys shook his head.

  “Mina!” said Nightshade, awed. “I was going to be mad at her, for slaying me, you know, but she came to me and she put her arms around me and she cried over me. And then she took me by the hand and walked with me out of the Hall of Judgment and she showed me the road made of star dust that will take me onward past the sunset when I am ready to leave. I was glad for her, because she seems to have found her way, and because she’s not crazy anymore, but I was sad, too, because she looked so very sad.”

  “I think she always will be,” said Rhys.

  Nightshade heaved a deep sigh. “I think so too. You know, in my travels I’ve seen the little shrines people are starting to build to honor her and I was hoping those would cheer her up, but the people who come to her shrines always look so sad themselves that I don’t think it helps her much.”

  “She wants the people to come to her,” said Rhys. “She is the God of Tears and she welcomes all who are unhappy or sorrowful, especially those consumed by guilt or regret, or struggling against dark passions. Any person who feels that no one else can understand his pain can come to her. Mina understands, for her own pain is constant.”

  “Woo, boy,” said the ghost.

  Nightshade was never downhearted for long, however. After gathering up a few ghostly pouches, he bounced to his feet.

  “Well, I’m off,” he said, adding cheerfully, “As Zeboim said, it’s time for me to go annoy the poor, unfortunate people in some new world.”

  Nightshade reached down to pat Atta. His ghostly touch caused the dog to jerk awake and stare about, puzzled. Nightshade held out his hand to Rhys. He felt a soft whispering touch, like the fall of a feather on his skin.

  “Farewell on your journey, my friend,” Rhys said.

  “So long as there’s chicken and dumplings, I’ll be happy!” Nightshade replied, and he waved and whisked himself through the oak tree—just because he could—and then he was gone.

  A bell ringing out from the monastery called the monks to evening meditation. Rhys stood up and smoothed the folds of his orange robes. As he did so, he felt something fall to the gr
ound. A gold grasshopper lay at his feet. Rhys picked up the grasshopper and pinned it to his robes and sent a silent prayer of well-wishing along the stardust road after his friend. Then he whistled to Atta, who sprang to her feet and raced down the hill, herding the sheep.

  Her pups chased after her, barking frantically and making little darting runs at the sheep in imitation of their mother. And though Atta cuffed them for getting in her way, her eyes shone with pride.

  Rhys picked up one of the pups, the runt of the litter, who was having trouble keeping up. He tucked the pup under his arm and continued down the hill, taking his flock safely to the fold.

  MINA

  Goddess of Tears

  Lesser Deity

  Symbol: An amber teardrop.

  Celestial Symbol: None.

  Home Plane: Ethereal Plane/Krynn.

  Alignment: Neutral good or neutral evil.

  Portfolio: Grief, loss, mortality.

  Worshipers: The desperate and the abandoned; the grief-shattered; those feeling trapped, suicidal; those who have lost all hope.

  Colors: Black, purple, yellow.

  The embodiment of the sorrow of the gods in the face of the world’s many tragedies, Mina (mee-na) is a mysterious divine agency who does not stand among the other gods of Krynn. Once the divine power of innocence, Mina was corrupted by and subsequently liberated from the plots of Takhisis and the other gods of Darkness during the Age of Mortals. Her trials have irrevocably changed her. Now, she is the patron of the faithless, the hopeless, and those who, either through their own fault or despite their best efforts, have lost what they hold most dear. She brings comfort in the face of sorrow, yet she is a constant reminder to the grieving that their pain is a real and necessary part of a mortal’s existence.

  History

  Mina is the daughter of Mishakal, Goddess of Healing, and Paladine, the Platinum Dragon. She was born out of their sheer joy in the creation of the world. Sister to Kiri-Jolith and Solinari, Mina was not counted among those gods who brought forth the world during the Age of Starbirth. Indeed, her existence was known only to her divine parents and to their wise counselor, Majere, who knew that if she joined them in the pantheon of Light, her existence would upset the divine Balance between Good, Neutrality, and Evil. Such an imbalance would be an excuse for the Queen of Darkness to manipulate events to her advantage, and thus Paladine and Mishakal bade Majere hide Mina away, safe in eternal slumber deep within Krynn’s primal oceans. Her divine essence was thus housed within Krynn itself, unseen and unknown, until the world was stolen by Takhisis after the Chaos War. Takhisis, thinking herself alone, felt Mina’s holy power, and set out to find her. She awakened the god-child and tricked her into believing herself mortal. Thus began the sequence of events that led to the War of Souls and the rise of the Beloved.