The Edge of Chaos (33 page)

Since Talfani had died, nobody had reached his heart the way Slanya had. It hurt so much. Worse than a penetrating wound that would not stop bleeding, the agony of loss was an injury that magic could not heal.

Several others spoke, but Duvan did not hear them. He reflected on his brief experiences with Slanya. He’d only known her a few days, but in that time she’d taught him to care again. She’d saved him from a life of cynical detachment and reckless self-pity. She’d rescued him from an eternity of boredom as a brick in the wall of Kelemvor’s city.

He’d hated her. He’d loved her. And now she was gone, and he would miss her so.

As he looked on, Kaylinn put a torch to the pyre. The kindling caught fire and soon was ablaze in flames licking the sky above the temple complex. Through the veil of heat and light, Duvan watched as Slanya’s corpse burned away.

A small group of monks sang a lament, the tune haunting against the rumble of the fire. The song seemed to reach

into his heart and touch the most painful places, reminding him of the beauty and vivaciousness of his lost friend, of his lost sister. Of all his losses.

Duvan knew of only one way to make the pain in his chest stop hurting. Stop living, and the pain would cease. But that was not an option for him. He wanted to live, pain or no pain. He would accept Tyrangal’s invitation. Helping her was something he could believe in. Something that Slanya would approve of.

Duvan took a deep breath. Having a goal—a purpose— filled his aching void. The pain was still there, the loss still acute. But he could go on. He could let her go, let both Slanya and Talfani go.

“Good-bye, my friend,” he whispered, staring into the flames. “May you find peace and contentment on your next journey.” Tears streamed down his cheeks as he watched her body burn.

“Good-bye.”