Hederick The Theocrat (21 page)

Tarscenian caught the dead creature's dropped lance and spoke. “I thought Gaveley wasn't
in on this.” “He's not,” Snoop replied. “I'm working on my own now. Going solo, you might
say. And I'm throwing in with you, stranger.”

Tarscenian regarded him, an impassive look on his face. Finally he said, “As you wish.”
Snoop nodded. “Come on, then. I know how to get into the temple.”

Snoop dove toward the place Tarscenian had indicated. Twice his own height in depth, the
old man had said. The marble wall became some other kind of rock below the surface of the
water, and Hederick's workers had not paid as much attention to attaining a smooth
surface. Holding his breath, Snoop swam, forcing himself downward, pulling his body deeper
by grabbing handholds in the rough wall.

A good swimmer, Tarscenian caught up with the thief and passed him. They would have to
hurry, however, to find an air pocket before they ran out of breath. It was growing
increasingly dim in the

water. Tarscenian nearly collided with Snoop as they groped along the wall's base. Snoop
grasped something, then, with a horrified look, drew his hand back. He thrust something
soft and squishy behind him. It scuttled away, emitting a cloud of ink. And then they saw
the tunnela thick circle smooth with algae and black as night within. Tarscenian felt for
Snoop's arm, pointed with the lance they had taken from the koalinth, and shoved the
smaller man toward the hole. Snoop broke away, shaking his head violently. All right, I'll
go first, Tarscenian thought. But if I get wedged in front of you, you're done for, my
friend. On the other hand, if another koalinth was waiting in the tunnel, Snoop might have
made a wise choice. Tarscenian fastened the lance to his waist, dove toward the tunnel,
grasped the slippery edge with difficulty, and forced himself inside. It was a tight fit.
Tarscenian made progress only by keeping his arms outstretched before him and his legs
tight together. He could swim through the water and the growing muck, but barely. He
closed his eyes and scissored his legs feverishly. Tarscenian felt Snoop's hand bump
against his foot and draw back. The thief followed him closely, then. At least Tarscenian
hoped it was Snoop. Soon his lungs burned, and Tarscenian lost track of direction. Were
they traveling horizontally or upward? Did it matter? He kicked weakly now, at times
resting his legs and using his arms to pull himself along. A voice shrieked in his mind:
Need air need air need air. He tried to focus on the Diamond Dragon, on his hatred of
Hederick. On Ancilla. This would be worth it if somehow she could be saved. Then his hands
broke water. He came to rest on an incline, his cheek cradled in soft mudabove the
surface. Tarscenian allowed himself to fill his lungs again and again; it didn't matter
that the air was fetid, the mud foul in his nostrils, the light dim. It was air.
Somewhere, water dripped. That and his gasping were the only sounds. Then frantic
scrabbling at his feet reminded him of Snoop's presence. Tarscenian pulled himself farther
out of the muck and heard the thief emerge behind him. Snoop coughed, retched, and swore.
“By all that's holy ... old man . .. I've been in some spots before... but this...”
Tarscenian heard more retching, then still more cursing. “Where do we ... go from here?”
“Be quiet,” Tarscenian ordered. “Let me think.” They needed to let their eyes adjust. He
stood guardedly and unfastened the lance from his waist. Warily, he used the koalinth's
weapon to probe the space around him. “Ouch! By whatever gods there are, man, watch out!”
Tarscenian grunted an apology. They seemed to be in a second tunnel, this one much larger
than the firsttall enough for Tarscenian to stand in. He was ankle-deep in muck. His lance
poked something soft but solid. He pulled it free and felt again, a bit to the right, with
the same result. Then to the left. His lance met a similar obstruction. It was too soft
for stone or wood, too hard for mud. Tarscenian felt in the pocket that carried his steel
and flint. “I don't suppose you have a supply of dry tinder on you, do you, spy?” he
whispered. “Certainly,” Snoop snapped. “In the same pocket with my emerald collection.” It
would have to be magic, then, although Tarscenian had barely any strength left. Each spell
had drained him, and he'd had precious little time to rest, these last few days. “Shirak,”
he whispered, and molded his hands around the point of the lance. The tip glowed like a
torch. Tarscenian gazed around him, half-expecting what now met his eyes. Snoop, unwarned,
inhaled suddenly and drew his dirk. There were four of themfour bodies, facedownand when
Tarscenian lifted the lance-light, he could make out other, similar mounds farther up the
tunnel. He lowered the light again. Pale blue slime coated the four corpses from head to
foot. Tarscenian used a booted toe gently to turn over one of the four. Snoop gagged. “The
man from this afternoon,” Tarscenian said quietly. “He dared to question Hederick. The
guards hauled him away.” He remembered that Snoop had not been at the sentencing of the
black-robed mage. Tarscenian

overturned another corpse. This belonged to a middle-aged woman; a kerchief was still in
place on her head. “One of the women the guards arrested. Also this afternoon.” His stare
went to the other bodies. Two more kerchiefs. “Her friends.” Snoop looked like a wild-eyed
ferret, partly terrified and wholly nauseated. Tarscenian, on the other hand, merely felt
tired and old.

“I suppose the materbill was sated, so they put the bodies in here,” he said. “Eventually
the remains will wash out into the lake.” Snoop burst out, “But what happened to them?
What's that coating? There are no wounds, nothing but this blue ...” He stooped and
reached toward one of the still forms.

Tarscenian shouted a warning, but too late. Snoop touched the blue substance with his
forefinger and, screaming, jumped up. Tarscenian grabbed the thief's hand and used the
light of the lance to burn away the ooze. The man's finger turned blistered and red. “What
is the stuff?” Snoop cried.

“It's digesting the bodies,” Tarscenian replied tensely. “Now be still.” Snoop controlled
himself with an effort. “Why?” he finally whispered. “Who will hear us in here?” “Whatever
spread this stuff.” Horror increased tenfold on Snoop's face. “I don't know what the
monster is called. The man who told me about it years ago referred to it as a slime
creature.” “Where is it?” “Somewhere in this tunnel, I'd guess. If it had been in the
first tunnel, we'd be dead by now. The creatures spread their ooze on living or dead
things, then retire to a cave to wait until the ooze does its job and the prey is soft
enough to absorb.” “Did that man tell you how to fight such a creature?” Tarscenian
grimaced. There was something he half-remembered, but he couldn't quite put the words
together. It had been a long time ago. Snoop gasped in the foul air. “I can handle human
enemies, maybe even a hobgoblin or two. But this ... I don't know if I can stand this,
Tarscenian.” “You made your decision when you entered the tunnel.” “But I ....” “Be
quiet,” Tarscenian repeated. “Listen.” Water splashed somewhere, and a sound, as of
something slithering through the tunnel, came to them. “Maybe you should turn out that
light,” Snoop whispered. “The creature can see in the dark. Can you?” Not waiting for an
answer, Tarscenian stepped over the slimy bodies and moved toward the sound. He thrust his
lance-light before him. Ten feet in front of them, a waist-high mound of pale blue ooze
glistened. Snoop halted, dumbfounded, then sneered. “That unimpressive thing?” he asked.
“That's it? I can probably take care of that beast all by myself, old man.” He raised his
arm. In an instant the spy's dirk was hurtling through the air toward the creature.
Tarscenian's shout came too late. The weapon sliced through the slime monster's covering
of ooze, then bounced off the creature's hide and landed back in the water at their feet.
Snoop slowly bent to pick it up, then halted. He used his foot to nudge the weapon out of
the water. The doused weapon was clean and free of ooze. Tarscenian frowned. Something
still tickled at his memory. The monster slithered forward, slow and sluglike, as though
it had all the time in the world. “How do we stop it?” Snoop whispered, less cocksure now.
He took a step backward. “Stay back. It catches live victims by interfering with their
thoughts. At this distance, you may be safe. If it gets closer, that won't be so. It will
offer you what you most desire. Ultimately you will actually urge it to devour you.” Snoop
shook his head. “That thing? Not a chance.” 'It has overcome stronger men than us.“ The
thief doggedly shook his head. ”It has to have a weak spot, Tarsceniansomeplace where my
dirk is welcome.“ Snoop moved forward. Tarscenian tried to grab him, but the thief shook
him off and continued. ”It's moving this way,“ Snoop said. ”There must be eyes or
something where there's no hide to pro..."

Snoop's voice trailed off into silence. He stared at the creature, an arm's length away. A
whisper hissed through the tunnel. “I will give you great wealth. I will give you great
power. All the world will thrill to your existence. The world will worship at your feet.
You will be rich beyond anything you have dreamed.” A whimper escaped Snoop. Tarscenian
searched through his pockets for something to block his own ears, but he'd lost everything
in the lake. His hands would have to do. Covering his ears, he stepped to Snoop's side. He
had to remove Snoop from the creature's deadly influence. “All of Solace will work to
indulge your every wish. You will want for nothing. You will enjoy power and wealth that
kings would gladly die for.” Tarscenian placed a hand on Snoop's shoulder. Snoop gave a
small scream and jumped toward the creature. The slime monster turned slightly and now
addressed Tarscenian. “I will help you attain what you seek, also. Your lady will live
again, and Hederick will die. Together, you and your lady will rule Solace. You will have
wealth and power. All this will come to pass. You can spread the word of the Old Gods
throughout the world, you and your lady. The two of you will never die. Your bodies will
become young again; you will be fertile; you will have many children. And these children
will worship the Old Gods.” Tarscenian covered both ears. “It cannot be so,” he whispered.
“It is against nature.” “I can make it so.” Tarscenian pulled again at Snoop's arm. Snoop
struck out, sending the older man sprawling back into the mud. The thief lunged toward the
monster, but as soon as Snoop touched the creature, he began to scream. In a moment the
creature had covered him with ice-blue slime. Snoop beat frantically at his torso and
legs, trying to remove the sticky stuff that gnawed at his skin. Tarscenian held the lance
forward, hoping the light at the tip would be enough to dispel the ooze, but Snoop gave
one final cry and collapsed, lifeless, on the tunnel floor. The creature hovered over the
thief, eating ravenously. The older man seized that moment to dash around the creature and
escape up the tunnel. There had to be a way out. The tunnel curved. Tarscenian heard the
sound of water ahead at the same time the whisper of the creature behind him stroked his
mind. “I will give you eternal life. You will have countless lifetimes to worship your
gods, you and this mage woman you love. Your bodies will be young, your lives easy.”
Tarscenian bounded around the curve and skidded in the slippery muck. The tunnel ended.
Water streamed from two openings in the wall above Tarscenian's head. Between and above
them was a trapdoor. The slime monster came slithering around the curve behind Tarscenian.
And at that moment he remembered what would stop the creature. “You will be wealthy. And
you will be forgiven. All your sins, Tarscenian, will be swept aside at once, like dust.
Those years as a Seeker fraudforgiven. Those years of greed and pride and deceptionas
nothing. And you will have Ancilla at your side.” The mound of blue ooze slithered toward
him and stopped just short of the fresh water that cascaded from the wall. Tarscenian
edged back into the space between the waterfall pipes. “Think of it, Tarscenian, a life of
ease. You can rest. Don't you want to rest? Aren't you exhausted, Tarscenian? I can help
you.” Tarscenian's clothes were sodden, but the water was clean. He felt the filth of the
tunnel slough from his body, and with it, some of his exhaustion. The creature edged
aside. Its whisper never ceased, but Tarscenian steeled his mind against it. He bolted
through the waterfall and circled behind the creature. Tarscenian stepped forward and
jabbed the lighted lance at the slime creature. Smoke hissed from the ooze where the lance
tip touched it, and the monster jerked backward toward the waterfall. “Your lady will live
again. Hederick will die. You will have wealth and power. You can spread the word of the
Old Gods. You will never die. You will become young. You...” Tarscenian slammed the lance
into the slime creature as hard as he could. Still the hide resisted,

even though smoke curled above the ooze. The light in the lance tip made the slime glow
like blue flame. Tarscenian braced his feet against the tunnel wall and threw all his
weight into his next thrust. The tip did not pierce the creature's hide, but the force of
the blow sent the slime monster sliding back into the cascades of clear water.

In an instant, the creature's protective coating of ooze was swept away. The tough hide
quivered with shock beneath the force of the pure water. Then the monster exploded.

Tarscenian felt for the footholds he'd seen fastened to the wall behind the cascades of
water, and climbed. Cautiously, he extinguished the magical light on the lance tip and
raised the trapdoor. The door opened up into a dark hallway. Tarscenian climbed out and
flattened himself against a wall. Too late the adventurer realized he was leaving a
telltale stream of water. Why not just paint an arrow on the floor with a sign saying
“Fugitive This Way”? he thought disgustedly.

His nose twitched. The smell of food and soap came to him. This, then, must be the kitchen
and laundry area. And where there was a laundry, there would be dry clothes. Tarscenian
edged along the wall. The rooms he passed had no doors, just curtains to mask their
contents from the prying eyes of passers-by. He poked his head into the first room. A
small lantern burned. He saw brooms, mops, wooden buckets and shelves holding a lifetime
supply of chamber pots, but no clothes.

Nothing but an apron. He snatched up the apron and slipped back into the corridor to wipe
up the traces of his arrival. Just then, a burst of raucous laughter greeted him.
Tarscenian froze. It wasn't until a loud female voice sounded, prompting more laughter,
that Tarscenian realized he hadn't been spotted. Footsteps came his way, though. He dived
across the hall, behind another curtain.

Steamy air engulfed him. The dim light showed nothing but a row of what looked like two
dozen coffin handles. Tarscenian grabbed one of the handles and yankedperhaps a secret
passage? A drawerlike contraption rolled smoothly toward him on tiny wheels. Inside were
wooden dowels that held rolls of white fabric. Hot air rose from some heat source under
the floor.

“A clothes-drying room,” Tarscenian muttered, intrigued despite himself. “Ingenious.”
“Hello, dearie!” Tarscenian leaped around to see a smiling nymphet of a woman. Her red
hair was wild, her grin suggestive, her clothes barely decent. Her feet were bareno doubt
the reason why he had not heard her approach. She laughed coarsely. “Are you one of the
new girls, dearie? My, my, Hederick has taken to hiring some ugly women!”

“What is it, Helda?” Another woman shoved aside the curtain. “Are you talking to
yourself... Oh, looky here!” Tarscenian, for the second time in as many days, found
himself speechless before a woman. He clutched his lance and waited.

“Well, man?” asked a black-haired woman. “Are you one of Hederick's prisoners?” “Mmmm, not
yet,” Tarscenian muttered. “Any moment now, though, I suspect.” The women laughed as
though he'd said something terribly witty. It occurred to him that they were just this
side of drunk. More of them appeared behind the first two. “Do you work here, ladies?”
Tarscenian asked. Another chorus of giggles resounded in the humid room. “Ladies! He
called us ladies.” “Well, ain't he a sweet one?” “I ain't been, called a lady some twenty
years or more.” “Are you married, sweet man?”

At Tarscenian's hesitant nod, they sulked for a bit, then resumed their chatter. The
redhead who'd discovered Tarscenian waved an imaginary fan and curtsied deeply to the
black-haired woman. The rest of them went into gales of mirth, and soon everyone was
curtsying and fanning someone else. Perhaps the Seekers were operating a home for lunatics
or dipsomaniacs, Tarscenian decided. Perhaps he had stumbled into the main dormitory. He
had no idea how far he'd traveled in the discharge tunnels, after all.

He put a hand on the nearest woman's arm. “This is Erolydon, isn't it, my dear?” he
whispered. “The temple?” Clearly he'd scaled new levels of hilarity with that remark. The
women giggled until one of them, practicing a curtsy in the crowded drying-room, slipped
on the damp floor and landed with a yowl. Then the little redhead was back by his side.
“Here, dearie,” she said. “My name is Helda. You ain't going to get far running around the
temple in those clothes.” She shooed all but one of the women into the corridor. “He's
mine. I saw him first. So back to work, ladies,” she said, causing even more hilarity.
Tarscenian could see he'd provided them with entertainment for days to come.

With the help of the black-haired woman, Helda hauled on the handle of another drying
rack. This one held brown robes. “You'll make a nice-looking priest, even if you are
taller than most of them,” Helda said, rummaging through the garments. “So what are you,
an escaped prisoner? An assassin? Ah, I do hope you're an assassin. I'd stick a paring
knife in old Hederick's gut myself, except he pays regular. Not much, but regular. Can't
say as I'd mourn long if someone else did him in, though.” She didn't wait for
Tarscenian's answer. “How about this one?” she asked, holding up a brown robe.

“It's gonna be too tight across the shoulders,” the black-haired woman said. “If s the
biggest one in here. It'll have to do.” “I'm sure it will be fine,” Tarscenian said
quickly. He grabbed the robe. “Don't the temple guards patrol down here?” “Sometimes,”
Helda said. “When we're baking pastries, they sometimes come to visit. It don't pay to get
'em mad. We always make enough extra. But they only come down here during baking time, not
cleanup. Which is now.” “Isn't that just like a man?” the black-haired woman said with a
sigh. “Show up for the goodies, but...” Tarscenian interrupted. “I'd like to try this on.”
“So go ahead.” Both women stared at him as though he'd suddenly sprouted wings. “Could you
two ladies, ah, that is ... well, give me some privacy?” Helda and her friend poked each
other, giggling. “That's a sure sign of quality, Helda,” the black- haired woman said as
they left him alone. “Modesty in spades. Me, I've never had a problem with modesty. Did I
ever tell you about the time I...” Eventually the voice faded. The black-haired woman must
have returned to the kitchen. Tarscenian pulled the robe down over him. It was tight but
dry, and it did have a hood. Tarscenian poked his head around the curtain. Helda stood
outside, leaning against the wall. She held out a dagger, hilt first. “It's mine,” she
said softly. “You never know when the temple guards'll overstep themselves, and I do
maintain some standards.” She shook off his thanks. “You'll need it. That lance don't
exactly go with a robe, you know. And I gather you're trying to be sneaky.” She accepted
Tarscenian1s lance in exchange for the dagger, slipping it behind a pile of sheets in a
nearby closet. “You're sure you're married, now?” “Absolutely,” Tarscenian said, smiling.
“A shame,” she rejoined. “I have no way to pay you for the dagger.” “Do me a favor, then.”
Helda leaned forward and scooped aside the thin strap that held her blouse in place. She
showed Tarscenian her back, which was crisscrossed with welts, some barely healed before
they had been retraced. Then her blouse was back in place, and Tarscenian was gazing into
fierce blue eyes. “Make him suffer,” she hissed. “Make him pay.” He hesitated, then
nodded. Helda whirled back toward the kitchen without another word.