Chapter Text
It's a quiet night on Faerun. Stars glimmer brightly over Bottlenose Cove, and waves lap against golden sand still warm with a sun that has already set. Music and laughter rise up through the air as a group of Extreme Teen Adventurers dance around a massive bonfire, singing camp songs.
From a distance, Mavis recognizes the current tune as an old drinking song her stepdad would sometimes come home singing in a loud, cheerfully rough voice. At least he'd cleaned up the lyrics. Some of those lines had just not been appropriate for this age group.
She hears the snap of twigs behind her, and nearly jumps as a short figure steps out of the darkness. Then she relaxes at the sight of a familiar gnome, his messy red braids crusted with salt air, his impressive sailor's coat set aside for a comfortable Hawaiian shirt, deep red with a pattern of little white anchors.
"Oh hey, Uncle Dav," she says, sitting back on the log.
"Hey, Mavis. You're pretty far away from the crowd. Everything okay?"
She glances down at the bonfire. "I'm good. Just needed a break."
Davenport nods. He tilts his head in silent question. She scoots over, giving him room to sit beside her on the log that overlooks the beach. She holds her breath, bracing herself for what she knows is coming.
But it doesn't come. Davenport sits in silence, watching the others dance. Merle is leading them in a raucous round, while Mookie bangs some coconut shells together to the beat.
She bites her lip. "I suppose you're gonna tell me I should go down and have fun and dance with the others," she says.
He shrugs. "Is that what you want to do?"
"No, not really."
"Then don't. Dancing isn't your duty. You should dance because you want to dance. And if you don't, don't."
"Oh." It's such a surprise, to be given permission to stay back, to not feel the pressure to mingle and smile and be sociable. She knows Merle is trying, but he's…well, he's Merle. He's always at the center of every party, and he wants everyone to be there with him, too.
But of course Uncle Dav isn't like that. He spends most of his time at sea. He wouldn't do that if he didn't enjoy long stretches of quiet solitude.
"Did he throw a lot of parties?" she asks. "On the Starblaster, I mean."
Dav chuckles. "Oh, sure! Lots of times. He was always trying to lift our spirits."
"Did he try to make you dance?"
He gives her a wry smile. "Sometimes. I was pretty terrible at it, and politely abstained for…well, more than half the century, I think. But after I took dance lessons, I was a little more okay with it. But only when I wanted to," he adds.
"You took dance lessons?"
He shrugs, a silent expression of guilty-as-charged. "Gnomish community dances."
She mulls this over, as she watched the dancers shout and clap on the beach below. Davenport taking dance lessons sounds vaguely familiar. She remembers a brief mention of it in the Story. "What made you want to dance?"
He is silent.
"Duty, wasn't it?" she says. "You needed to get the Light."
He chuckles. "An excellent deduction, Mavis."
"It wasn't hard. You did have a reputation for being very single-minded."
"Well, the Story was right about that. Yeah, it was the Light." He pauses, then adds, "At least, at first."
She shuffles closer. "Tell me?" She always loves Uncle Dav's stories of the Century. Even if she knows a lot of what happened because of the Day of Story and Song, it's always nice hearing straight from the source.
He clears his throat, looks away. "Well, it's—it's a long story, Mavis. And it's got some scary parts."
She gives him a flat stare. "I'm not a little baby," she says. "Angus lent me half his collection of murder mysteries, and they didn't scare me at all." Well, maybe some of them were a little scary, but he didn't need to know that.
"All right, all right!" He winks. "But this time, you'll get the full version. Nobody on the Starblaster knew the full version, not even Lucretia. Because I didn't tell them the full story. Because nobody on the Starblaster knew that I was also an emissary of Garl Glittergold at the time."
Mavis gasps. "Wait…you've never told this story to anyone?"
"You'll be the first."
She beams, scooting closer to him on the log.
Davenport leans back, resting his hands on the log and tilting his face up to the stars. "It began when we saw the Light fall right in the middle of a gnomish warren-city…"
#
The door to the dance hall was opened by a short gnomish woman with a warm smile and bright blue eyes. Her face was young, but her hair was a shock of white, pulled tightly back into two puffball pigtails at the nape of her neck. "Good afternoon!" she said. "Are you here for the—"
"I'm here for the dance lessons, please!" said Davenport, plastering a big grin on his face. "If this is the, uh, the place for dance lessons, I am so here for that! Those lessons, I mean. To dance."
She raised her pale eyebrows, but she smiled all the same. The door opened wider. "Come on in, then! You're just in time. I'm Windi Featherlight, the instructor here."
"Davenport," he said, extending a hand. She gave it an odd look, and he winced inwardly. Did they not shake hands here?
She chuckled, and gave him a low-five.
Inside, they passed down a hallway that was clean but shabby with age. There were signs of recent upkeep, however: patches of fresh paster on the walls to shore up cracks, a smaller studio that was in the middle of being repainted. Finally they came to a large circular studio lined with benches and lit by a circular glass skylight in the center of the domed roof. The walls were painted a pale sky blue, faded with age, and the floorboards were scuffed and dull with use. Large windows looked out into the populous gnome city.
In the distance, Davenport could see the sturdy stone walls that encircled the city's above-ground portion. Soldiers walked back and forth on top of the wall, spears and bows prominently displayed.
But here, inside the dance studio, the atmosphere was genial. About a dozen gnomes lined the benches, chatting cheerfully. Davenport took a seat at one end, next to a broad-shouldered gnome woman with thick auburn curls.
"Well, it looks like it's about time to get started!" said Windi, clapping her hands for attention. "I see some familiar faces and also some new ones. Why don't we go around the room and introduce ourselves? Your name, and what brings you here to dance with us."
Davenport tapped his foot restlessly, his mouth pressed shut, praying to Garl that Windi didn't pick him first.
Through the door in his heart, he could hear his god chuckle. Seems like a waste of a good prayer, don't you think?
Before he could reply, a gnome on the opposite end of the benches raised their hand. Davenport relaxed.
"Heyoo, I'm Brightly," said the gnome, with a warm smile. "I've been taking lessons here for about a year now. I really like cutting a rug up at the temple, and I came here to take my game to the next level. Heyooo!"
The gnome next to him high-fived him. "I'm Robin," she said. "I've always had a dance inside me, and I just want to get it out there for the world to see!" She threw up her hands, as if the dance inside her was bursting out already.
"Oh, definitely," said the next gnome. "I'm Torque, and I just love dancing so much!"
"Heyoo, didn't I see you doing flips at the last Communion?" asked Brightly.
"Heyooo, you sure did!" They high-fived.
Davenport's insides felt like they were shriveling up. He hadn't attended a Communion at a temple of Garl since his homeworld got swallowed by the Hunger decades ago. And even then, he hadn't particularly enjoyed them. Hours of dancing and storytelling and stand-up improv were never his thing, even if Garl Glittergold, the Lord of Pranks, had decided in his inexplicable wisdom to make Davenport, the least funny gnome in his warren, his personal emissary.
And from the looks of things, the Communions in this warren were no different than the ones he'd grown up with.
Finally they reached the broad-shouldered gnome next to Davenport. She leapt to her feet with an agility surprising for her bulk. He realized with a start that she was all muscle.
"You can call me Cookie!" she said, with the biggest, most enthusiastic grin he'd seen so far. Which was saying a lot. "And I wanna learn to dance so I can show Garl Glittergold how much I love him! I've dedicated my life to serving him. When I'm not here, I patrol with the Justifiers! Heyooo!"
"Heyoooo!" the rest of the gnomes cheered.
It took Davenport a moment to catch up with what she was saying. She worked for Garl, too? And what the heck was a Justifier?
Wait, were they all cheering? Was he supposed to cheer?
"Heyooo!" he shouted, into a room that had already fallen silent.
Damn it.
Everyone turned to look at him. A few giggled. Cookie sat back down next to him, her smile plastered on her face, her sharp eyes regarding him.
"You're next, new guy," she said.
He took a deep breath, and forced a smile. "My name is—um, Davenport. I don't—I'm not very good at dancing. But I want to get better at it! Because I just, um, really love Garl!" He looked around the room. "Heyoo?"
Cookie laughed, and slapped him on the shoulder with a force that nearly knocked him off the bench.
Windi smiled. "Well, why don't we get started? We're going to start with a traditional contra dance, so just line up across from each other in the center of the room. Over the course of this dance, we'll be changing partners, but at the end of every verse we'll be back with our starting partner. So pick who you want to be teamed up with!"
Before Davenport could even think, he felt the strong hand of Cookie clasp firmly onto his shoulder, an indisputable claim.
She grinned. "Whaddaya say, partner?"
Davenport forced a smile. "Heyoo?"
#
Davenport was not a good dancer. He could get the timing right, but his spine was stiff as a steel rod, and every muscle in his body was tense. Still he soldiered on through the steps, still he kept a smile plastered to his face until his cheeks ached.
Windi was cheerfully supportive, tapping out the rhythm with a small baton clutched in her tail while music played from a crackling record player. She moved around the room with the grace of a practiced dancer, watching the pattern unfold. Every so often she would guide an errant dancer back into the flow.
Cookie was enthusiastic, but she was not as gentle. Whenever Davenport messed up the pattern and started moving in the wrong direction, she'd grab his arm and yank him back into place. He suspected she didn't quite know her own strength.
So by the end of the night, when he stumbled his way back to the inn, his entire body was sore. He collapsed into bed with a sigh, and pulled the Stone of Farspeech from where it was tucked beneath his shirt.
"This is Captain Davenport, checking in," he said. "Starblaster, please respond."
There was a pause. Then a familiar rough voice came on the line. "This is Barry here. How ya doin', Cap?"
He smiled weakly. "Pretty sore, if I'm being perfectly honest. But I'm alive. I tracked down the rumors of the Light to a local dance studio, so I signed up for a class there." He kicked off his shoes and began to massage his feet. "Haven't learned anything yet, but I'm keeping my ears open. How are things on the ship?"
"Running smooth," said Barry. "We completed the ship camouflaging today, and the scanners haven't picked up any patrols within visual range. We think we're good."
"Don't get lazy," said Davenport. "I wouldn't be surprised if the warren uses stealth scouts in addition to their more obvious armored patrols."
"Roger that, Cap."
"Anything else?"
There was a pause. He could hear Barry conferring with Lup. "We did pick up some weird seismic activity," he said. "We don't know enough about the geology of this world to really know if it's abnormal or not, but it's nothing immediately dangerous."
"Keep an eye on it, all the same."
"Will do!"
"Thanks, Barry. Davenport, out." He thumbed the Stone and set it aside. Crossing his legs beneath him, he stretched his ankles. In a quieter voice, speaking to the air, he said, "Arumdina? Are you there?"
What is it? The voice in the back of his head was curt, bordering on irritated.
"Who are the Justifiers?"
There was a pause. Why are you asking me?
He frowned. "Oh, I don't know," he said, raising one eyebrow. "Maybe because Garl Glittergold, leader of the gnome pantheon, has a magical talking battleaxe named Arumdina the Justifier. I figured you'd know something about it."
Well, maybe you wouldn't be asking me, she said, if you actually bothered to study the lore of your own patron!
He winced. It was a fair accusation. But it wasn't like he'd thought to bring sacred gnome texts onto the Starblaster. And faith practices varied so much from plane to plane, and he had the Mission to think about, and—and there were always other things he needed to be doing.
But getting into a petty argument with Arumdina wouldn't help him right now. He sighed. "Okay, you're right, that is a failing on my part. But I'm asking now. Please."
She was silent for a moment. Then she said, They're a military order who fight in Garl's name. Defending communities, acting as marshals, that kind of thing. Sometimes they call themselves the Companions of Arumdina.
"So they're your fan club," he said, mouth quirked in a slight smile.
The joke didn't land. Arumdina said nothing, but he could sense her bristling in annoyance. He cleared his throat. "So Cookie is one of Garl's?"
She's not an emissary, if that's what you mean. But she is a servant. All the Justifiers are.
"So…she might help me retrieve the Light, if I told her I was an emissary?"
Her laugh was short, bitter. She might. Or she might just cleave you in twain for a liar and a thief.
He sat up as if he'd been stung. "She'd—? Arumdina, are you being serious?"
But she didn't reply. He sat for a while in the silence, his feet throbbing.
It took him a long time to fall asleep that night. Outside, patrols marched through the streets, their boots a rhythmic tattoo on the cobbles. A beat without music.
#
Three months ago, the gnomish warren-city of Fairvale was brutally attacked by an army of berserkers from the northlands. Fairvale had sturdy stone walls surrounding it, but after a long period of sleepy peace, their patrols were scanty and their guard was down. The attack caught them off-guard, and a horde of Big Folk scaled the walls and invaded the city. Precious cultural centers were destroyed, artifacts stolen, buildings burned. The invaders were finally fought off, but at great cost.
Now, Fairvale bristled with steel.
The crew of the Starblaster didn't know that, at first. They only knew that the Light had come down in the area. Magnus, Taako, and Merle had been on one of the scouting parties, and saw the city, and approached. Magnus was always good with people. He prided himself on his rustic hospitality, and besides, he was an experienced adventurer.
Then he took an arrow to the knee.
Over his Stone, Davenport called an immediate retreat. They regrouped, and Davenport went back to the city with Merle, hoping the locals might be more amenable to a gnome and a dwarf.
The soldiers on the walls attacked the moment they came in range.
Other local towns told the story to the crew. Fairvale had closed itself off after the attack, allowing no outsiders to pass through its walls. Even gnomes from outside were held under close scrutiny. Anything alien to the warren was viewed with fear and suspicion. Nobody knew how long this self-imposed isolation was intended to last.
That night, Davenport retreated to his berth. "Can you do something about this, Garl?" he asked. "Can you tell the local priests that I'm your emissary? If I can retrieve the Light, this world and your people will be saved."
But Garl was oddly silent.
"Garl?" he tried again.
My Utirhant, said the god, using the affectionate nickname another Garl had given him when he was only a boy, on a home lost to the Hunger. His voice was thick with muted sorrow. I could tell them. But they will not trust you.
And with good reason, Arumdina muttered in the background.
The conversation left him troubled. But he could not give up. So he tried another tactic. He borrowed Taako's Cloak of Concealment and snuck into the city alone, to integrate himself into their population. The Starblaster was to remain outside the ring of the city's patrols, concealed in dense forest. Davenport carried his daggers and an enchanted amulet which, if broken, would give him a one-use instant teleportation back to the ship. An emergency ripcord if things turned bad.
He didn't know what to expect from this insular, wounded community.
He definitely didn't expect dance lessons.
#
Windi got the class's attention with a soft rap of her baton on the floor. "Now this next one, the Gillyhop, is a two-person dance," she said. "It's a very energetic dance."
Davenport paled, anticipating being flung around like a rag doll by an over-enthusiastic Cookie. But Windi stepped up to them as they were partnering off, and she set a hand on Cookie's shoulder. "Cookie, since Robin is out today, would you be willing to partner with Brightly? And Davenport, would you be willing to help me show the class the steps?"
"Oh, sure!" Cookie gave him another bone-shattering clap on the back. "Go get 'em! Heyoo!" And she skipped over to Brightly, picked him up, and swung him around while the other gnome whooped.
Davenport stared. Was the Gillyhop a well-known dance that everyone knew about? Was it something obscure? "Um, I--I'm not--that is, I don't know--"
She gave him a slight smile as she led him over to the gramophone. "Don't worry, it's very straightforward. And you pick up steps very quickly. Just follow my lead." She got the class's attention with a wave of her baton. She directed him how to set his feet, and guided his hands to her: one over her hip, another clasped in her hand. "Now class, follow us. We'll start on the left foot, moving slowly. Like so…"
They went through the basic step outline a few times, gradually increasing in speed. And finally Windi turned the gramophone on, and they fell to dancing in earnest. Davenport kept himself focused on the pattern. Left-back right-step left-front, left-back right-step left-front. The dance wasn't difficult when he didn't have to worry about Cookie inadvertantly yanking his arms out of his sockets.
"You've got the pattern down," she said, halfway through the second dance. "But you're still very stiff. Can you feel the rhythm?" She shifted. "Left-rightleft, left-rightleft."
He tried to put more emphasis on the first step, and stumbled. "Damn it," he muttered, glaring at his feet.
She laughed. "It's okay, try again." She pulled him back into rhythm. "Dancing is a lot like speaking, or singing. It's not interesting if it's a monotone, every step with equal weight. Let the music flow through you. Let yourself feel what it's trying to say, and what you want to say with it." With a brief twist of her wrist as the only signal, she swung him around and dipped him, catching him easily before he could hit the floor. His heart pounded, and his breath caught in his throat. She pulled him back to his feet, seamless with the rhythm.
He focused even more tightly on the rhythm, trying to get his footing back, both physically and mentally. The closest he'd ever come to dance was the bizarre, oddly sensual interpretive jazz dance that Merle had come up with on Legato. And the only thing that dance said was whatever Merle was feeling at the moment. "And what is this music trying to say?"
She gave him that small, thoughtful smile that he was beginning to realize was one of Windi's things. "What do you like to do, Davenport? Something that you enjoy?"
Flying. He clamped his mouth down on the word, swallowed it back down. There were no flying ships on this world that he knew of, and he could not be an outsider here. "The stars," he said instead.
"The stars?"
"Yeah. Stargazing, making star maps, that sort of thing."
Her smile broadened. It wasn't like Cookie's wide smile, but something deeper. "And how do the stars make you feel?"
He closed his eyes, pictured the night sky in all its glory. "Limitless," he said, his breath leaving him.
"Show me," she said. "With your dancing."
The music built to a crescendo. He hooked his arms around her waist, lifted her and swung her around, her feet completely cleared of the ground. He guided her in a smooth, controlled circle and set her gently down again, like the Starblaster. She touched the ground, her steps so light that she still seemed to be floating. He was surprised to find himself laughing. They transitioned smoothly back into the base step.
"The stars make your heart soar."
"Yeah…" With a start, he realized he had an opening. "Did you see that falling star that came down a few weeks ago? I was on the roof, er, stargazing, and I saw it soaring. It was so beautiful! I'd love to know more about it."
Windi gave him an odd look. He cursed himself silently. Had he overstepped? Moved too early?
The music faded away, and the dancers broke apart, catching their breath, grinning and sweaty. Windi separated from Davenport and shut off the gramophone. "Class," she said, "take a seat. I have an announcement to make."
Davenport sat down, the adrenaline high of the dance already wearing off.
"Now, most of you have probably heard of the magnificent star that fell in Fairvale a few weeks ago," she said. "Temple authorities have consulted the signs and pronounced it a good omen, a blessing given to us directly by Garl Glittergold himself. Now I know that the attack on our good city has left us all heartbroken. But I have no doubt that this blessing indicates that things will get better for us." She smiled, spreading her hands wide. "The darkness will be extinguished in the glittering light of Garl's love for us."
The others nodded, murmured their assent. Cookie shouted "Heyoo!"
Windi nodded in turn. "Now, some of you may have heard rumors that Garl's Blessing landed near here. Some even say, it was on the grounds of this very humble studio." She arched one eyebrow, and gave them all a wry smile. "And some of you may have picked this studio, out of all the dance studios in town, for this very reason."
Brightly cleared his throat. "Well, I…I just love Garl so much! And if this studio has been blessed by him…" He trailed off uncertainly. But others nodded in affirmation.
If anything, Windi seemed amused by this. "Look up," she said, pointing to the round skylight at the center of the curving roof. The class looked up. Davenport took a look at the ceiling. He'd never noticed the clouds painted there, as faded and worn as the rest of the room. But the skylight was clear and polished as a diamond.
"That skylight is where Garl's Blessing came down," she said, "passing through the glass without breaking it." She pointed to the scuffed floorboards. "It landed right on this floor--"
Cookie gasped, her fingers tightening on the bench so hard that Davenport thought the wood might crack. "This studio is holy ground…" she said, staring at it with wide, dark eyes.
Windi blushed. "Well, maybe not holy ground per se," she said. "But if Garl has seen fit to bless my little studio with such a momentous gift, then I wish to honor him with something in return. I've spoken with the temple Jewels, and we have decided to hold a special Starlight Celebration as part of the Candlenights Festival this year. Garl's Blessing will be put on display, and some of you will have an opportunity to perform a dance I will be composing for the occasion. Now, this is a momentous responsibility, so it will be volunteer only. You are not required to participate in this public performance in order to still take classes here. But if you wish to--"
Everyone in the class was already raising their hands, already shouting their enthusiastic consent.
Davenport raised his hand in silence. Of course he would participate. It was his job.
Windi smiled at him. "Davenport," she said, "if you're interested, I have a…special request for you."
He found heat crawling across his neck. "I'm, uh, not the best dancer in class," he said. "So, no solos." He forced a smile. A few of his fellow classmates laughed.
"Oh, I think you'll like this. It's right in your wheelhouse." She pointed to the skylight. "I want my dance to reflect the movement and pattern of the stars themselves. Since you've studied the night sky so much, perhaps I could lean on your expertise while I compose this dance?"
He blinked. "I'd, uh…I'd be happy to." And he was surprised to find he was telling the truth.