The pressure on Joel's brain increased. He raised his hands to his throbbing temples in a futile effort to massage away the pain.

Your mind cannot remain closed to us forever, the voice declared. We will know if you are lying.

"It is as you say, great lord, but perhaps we can come to some agreement that you will find more satisfying than draining the dregs of our minds," Joel replied.

We must know who you are, the voice insisted.

"I am Joel, and this is Jedidiah. We are priests of Finder," Joel replied.

We have never heard of this Finder.

"Thank you very much," Jedidiah muttered softly, so that only Joel heard him.

"Finder has dominion over the cycle of life and the transformation of arts," Joel explained, trying to deepen his voice to fill the room. "He is worshiped by artists and bards seeking to renew their work."

Now we recall. The slayer of Moander. A demi-power worshiped only in Abeir-Toril. There are so many gods worshiped in that world it's hard to keep track of them all. We wouldn't be surprised to find they have a god there with dominion over the tableware and ale mugs.

Jedidiah chuckled with amusement. The laughter sounded so genuine that Joel would have been hard pressed to say whether his god was truly amused or just humoring Ilsensine. Joel chuckled as well.

If you are not thieves, why did two of your party flee? the voice asked.

"They were priests of Bane, Lord Ilsensine," Joel explained. "They stole the ship from the original thieves. We tricked them into flying over your territory."

There was a momentary silence. Then the god of the illithids said in their heads, Even if you did not steal our people's ship, there is still the question of trespass. No one enters our realm without paying tribute to us.

"We brought you your ship," Joel pointed out.

You cannot offer what you do not own as tribute.

"What can we offer you, Lord Ilsensine?" Joel asked.

Knowledge is the only power, Ilsensine said. Unless there is some knowledge you possess that we do not, your lives are forfeit.

Joel choked back his anger at the god's injustice and struggled with his fear that he had nothing to offer. He bowed his head modestly. "My only expertise is music, O great lord."

Then we will have a song. Something we have never heard before. Come forward so that we might take one from your mind. Be warned, however, that we will not stop until we find one we have not heard before.

Joel swallowed. There had to be something in his repertoire that the god hadn't heard… he hoped. He stepped forward.

"No!" Jedidiah declared, yanking the Rebel Bard back to his side. The incognito god stepped forward. "With respect, Lord Ilsensine," he said, "surely what you seek is not merely new knowledge, but exclusive knowledge. This one"-he nodded at Joel-"is my pupil. There is no song he knows that I do not. I, on the other hand, have many songs in my mind, some as yet unwritten. Take one of those. Then it will be yours and yours alone."

That would be satisfactory, Ilsensine replied. Come forward.

Jedidiah handed Joel his light stone, then stepped toward Ilsensine. The illithid god raised one of its short tentacles and stroked the older man's forehead. Jedidiah flinched, but whether from fear or pain, Joel could not tell.

Then in an instant the tentacle pulled backward and lashed forward, burying itself inside Jedidiah's head like an arrow. Jedidiah gasped.

Joel shouted and tried to leap to his god's defense, but three zombie grell lashed their tentacles around his arms and legs and held him fast. The young bard struggled furiously, horrified that Jedidiah might be harmed. He shouted for Ilsensine to leave the priest be, to take something from his own mind instead. The illithid god made no reply, but the grell tentacles tightened painfully about his limbs. With a sense of futility and despair, Joel went limp.

After a minute, Ilsensine withdrew the tentacle from Jedidiah's head. To Joel's relief, there seemed to be no wound. On the tip of the tentacle was a smear of pink, like raspberry jam. Ilsensine pulled it back toward its brain and smeared it into a fissure between two throbbing convolutions.

Joel felt a sigh in his mind… Ilsensine's sigh.

Mmmm. That is good. Very good.

Jedidiah collapsed to the floor in a heap.

"What have you done?" Joel cried out, struggling again in the grail's tentacles.

There is no need for alarm. He is not seriously injured. He will recover. We are most pleased. You have earned your freedom. My servants will escort you to the borders of our realm. Where will you be heading?

"The Palace of Judgment," Joel said, his eyes straining for some sign of movement from Jedidiah.

You will like it there. It is very beautiful. At least, that is what I have tasted in the minds of humans who have visited there.

A zombie grell scooped up Jedidiah's fallen form and floated from the hall. The grell holding Joel released him. The Rebel Bard followed after his god. Two grell followed him.

The grell carrying Jedidiah led the party through a glowing portal. On the other side was a straight passageway that climbed back to the daylit surface of the Outlands. After the cool, dark corridors, the bright sky, with or without a sun, was a pleasure to see, and the air felt gloriously warm. Even better was the quiet that settled in Joel's head.

The grell set down Jedidiah and disappeared back into the dark tunnel in the earth.

Joel rushed to Jedidiah's side and shook him by the shoulders, calling out his name. The god remained unconscious, and he was very pale, but at least his breathing was steady. Joel rolled his cape up to pillow the older man's head.

Joel surveyed the land. He stood on a low bluff looking out over a great level plain. From the center of the plain rose a great city, laid out in perfect order, surrounded by a high wall. Everything was built of the same uniform red brick. The roofs all sparkled with glazed yellow tile. The streets were all paved with gray stone. Joel could see at least three large gardens, each growing around a blue lake. Even from this distance, the young priest was inclined to agree with Ilsensine- or, rather, with the victims whose minds the god had drained. The Palace of Judgment was indeed beautiful.

Yet the palace was only a stepping stone to Sigil. He and Jedidiah would have to reach the City of Doors quickly. If they didn't find the Hand of Bane before Walinda did, they would have nothing to barter for the stolen half of the finder's stone. Finder would remain a very weak god for a long time, and Bane the Tyrant would return to the Realms.

Joel shuddered. He knelt down beside Jedidiah, shook him gently, and called out his name-his real name this time.

The older priest woke with a start. He smiled up at Joel. " 'Lo," he said.

"Hello yourself," Joel replied with a grin, relief flooding over him.

"Been sleeping long, have I?" Jedidiah asked. He sounded like an invalid recovering from a long illness.

"Not too long," Joel answered. He helped his god sit up.

Jedidiah's head twitched involuntarily. It was a movement Joel had never seen before.

"Are you all right?" Joel asked Jedidiah.

"I'm not sure," the older bard said. "They have a saying in the Outlands: 'One would be wise to question the wits of anyone who makes it back alive from Ilsensine's court.'"

"You should have let Ilsensine take a song from me," Joel chided. "I must have known something it had never heard."

Jedidiah shook his head. "It was too great a risk."

Joel chuckled. "And Grypht warned me what a reckless fellow you are."

Jedidiah smiled. "Well, I am. I'm the kind of fellow who climbs to the top of a high wall and dances a jig. But I never intend to fall from the wall and break my neck. You might have known a song that Ilsensine had never heard-one of your own that you haven't performed yet. But then instead of leaving you completely brain-burned, Ilsensine would have only left you addled. No. I stood a better chance of resisting its probe."