Hederick The Theocrat (7 page)

Pounding and shouting at thc front door of their treetop mansion in Solace shook the Vakon
family from their beds just after midnight. Jeffers, the manservant, was the first to the
door, but Ceci Vakon, mistress of the home, followed a short distance behind. “Is the
master home?” Jeffers whispered to Ceci. He clutched a small axe of the variety normally
used to chop kindling.

She shook her head. “Mendis isn't home yet. Perhaps something has happened to him.” A
resonant voice boomed through the locked door. “Death to heretics!” Ceci recognized the
booming bass voice as that of the high priest of the Seeker temple in Solace. “High Priest
Dahos!” she whispered. “And Hederick's goblins. What are they doing here?” Jeffers's face
was young, pale, and defiant. “I'm the only man in the house,” he said staunchly. “I will
protect you.” “No. This must be a mistake,” Ceci replied. “The High Theocrat promised us
protection. Open the door. I'll speak to them.” The young servant followed her orders but
kept the small axe in view and stood stubbornly in the doorway next to his mistress.
Clutching her lacy nightrobe at her throat with one hand, she surveyed the tall, robed
Plainsman and the half-dozen goblins who ranged on the walkway just outside the door.
Behind them was nothing but the forty-foot drop from the walkway to the forest floor. The
Vakon home, like most in Solace, was built in the branches of a vallenwood tree, linked to
the other treetop buildings by snakelike wood-and-rope walkways. “What do you want?” Ceci
demanded. “It's the middle of the night, Dahos. You've frightened my servants and my
children.” Dahos inclined his head, and replied. “The High Court of the Seekers of the New
Gods in Solace has convicted you and your family of heresy, Mistress Vakon.” The formal
tone could not mask the gleeful triumph in his dark eyes. “We are here to take you into
church custody. Come outside.” “I will not!” Ceci Vakon retorted. “There's been a mistake.
We are under the protection of the High Theocrat of Solace. My husband will take care of
this misunderstanding in the morning. Now go!” She turned on the ball of one foot,
dismissing the dark-robed priest with a toss of her head. Thus it was that she missed the
signal that passed from Dahos to the six goblins. A half-dozen maces and spears came up to
the ready. But Jeffers saw. He drove his shoulder into Ceci's side and sent her sprawling
onto the walkway. He lifted his axe. He never got a chance to use it. Out of the darkness
flashed a spearhurtling sideways, like a long-handled sword, not point forward like an
ordinary spear or lance. It was a movement peculiar to the Plainsman tribe from

which Dahos hailed. The weapon slashed above the maces of several chattering goblins and
cut through the manservant's neck like a cleaver through a round of cheese. Mendis Vakon's
young sons piled into the room in time to see the loyal servant's head spin over the
railing of the aerial walkway. His body crashed to the doorstep. Ceci Vakon and her
children screamed in terror. Several months ago, the cacophony would have brought dozens
of neighbors running to their aid, but no one appeared now. All of Solace cowered under
the boot heel of Hederick, the new High Theocrat of the treetop village. “Yellow Eyes,
take two goblins and empty the house,” Dahos snapped at one of the goblins, whose broad
nose twitched at the smell of Jeffers's blood. “There may be other servants within. If
they resist, kill them. If not, bring them along. They'll bring more money to Erolydon's
coffers. Find the daughter. Assemble them on the walkway, next to the railing, with their
backs to the drop.” It was a complicated command for a goblin, but the one called Yellow
Eyes was smart for that species. The leader of sorts, he scurried to obey. The high priest
turned toward the far walkway. “People of Solace!” he shouted into the darkness. “Bear
this in mind! This is how Hederick, High Theocrat of Solace, rewards heretics and other
sinners!” Ceci Vakon, her young sons, teen-age daughter, and serving maids lined up on the
walkway. The goblins scrambled through the dwelling, gathering platinum candlesticks,
jeweled chalices, polished steel serving plates, and anything else that seemed valuable.
The rest of the furnishings they destroyed. “These precious objects will be better used in
the holy setting of the temple Erolydon than in the lair of heretics,” Dahos proclaimed.
“We will consecrate them first, of course.” “My husband will avenge this!” Ceci snapped.
“What are you going to do with uspitch a woman and children off the walkway, pious coward
that you are?” Ceci's daughter burst into tears, but her mother continued her brave but
foolhardy speech. “My husband will have your head for this, High Priest. He'll go to the
Highseekers Council in Haven! We are under Hederick's protection, I tell you!” “Silence!”
Dahos thundered. Yellow Eyes flourished a short-handled sword before Ceci's face.
Discomfited as much by his rancid breath as by the violent gesture, she clamped her mouth
shut and glared at the smelly creature. Her children swarmed around her, but the goblins
forced them back into line. Then Ceci heard the screams in the distance. Loons, she
thought at first. But the only loons in Solace would be nesting out at northern Crystalmir
Lake, out of earshot. Along with the screeches came the unmistakable thrumming of wings.
The strange sound grew nearer. Defiance drained from Ceci Vakon. Her youngest son spun
around. “Mama!” he cried. “Huge bats!” She whirled. “Night hunter bats!” she breathed.
Ceci lunged forward to drag her children into the house. But Yellow Eyes and the others
easily pinioned their captives. There were eight giant batseach one seven feet long. Their
eyes, some red, some violet like their fur, glowed in the night. They could kill easily
with the claws that glittered at the end of their papery wings. They could kill just as
deftly with their rapier-sharp, triangular tails. And, of course, like any Krynnish bat,
the night hunters had fangs that were deadly. “Death to heretics!” Dahos bellowed again at
the silent houses of Solace. “Gather by your windows and watch, sinful people. Witness the
fate of those who reject lives of holiness offered in the sanctity of the New Gods!” Each
bat plucked up a human in its claws. Holding their captives by the scruff of their
nightclothes, the bats fluted and screeched as they bore away their screaming victims.
“Take them to the slave trader Arabat!” Dahos shouted over the noise. “He waits on the
southern edge of town.” Mindless of the consequences if the bat dropped her, Ceci twisted
back toward the high priest, her nightrobe swirling in the humid air. “My husband ...” she
shouted. “... is dead, Madam,” Dahos finished for her. “Or soon will be.”

*****

Mendis Vakon heard faint screams as he crouched in the darkness before Erolydon's
wrought-iron gate. He was north of Solace, and whatever emitted that caterwauling was
headed in the other direction. Small blessing, he thought; the screeching gave him
gooseflesh. He scrambled to his feet and stood before the long, solid, white walls of the
temple.

Avoiding the bustle of Solace, Hederick had chosen to build his blessed temple on the
shores of peaceful Crystalmir Lake less than a league north of the city. Hederick hated
dirt, and cities, even treetop communities like Solace, had a lot of dirt. Hederick also
loathed noise unless he himself was making it, Mendis Vakon thought sourly. Solace had
plenty of pandemonium, too. Especially now, with refugees arriving every day, telling
their unbelievable tales.

This wooded place, however, was as quiet as a crypt. Unfortunate thought. Mendis tried to
pretend his heart was not hammering like that of a terrified mouse. The silver and scarlet
moons of Krynn provided some light but little comfort. The humidity, even at midnight,
pressed against Vakon, and he caught the scent of his own body heat. As usual for
midsummer, the mosquitoes were aggressive. Their droning added to Vakon's tension. He
swatted at the insects and looked nervously from side to side. Where was Hederick? The
marble of the temple glowed faintly in the darkness.

The stout wooden inner doors, just behind the ornamental iron outer gate, were shut to the
night. There was no sign of guards. All was as Hederick had promised. From inside the
compound, the scrape of a footstep on cobblestone sent Vakon jumping, and he cursed
inwardly. In a short time I will be well away from here, he said to himself. I'll have
money to last to the end of my days. And I'll not deal with this madman, or any of his
Seekers, again.

The inner doors swung slowly open. Then the outer gates, the ones of wrought iron, opened.
Vakon could not see the hand that controlled the mechanism. He slipped inside. The metal
gate locked behind him. “Over here, idiot!” came a whisper. “Do you want someone to see
you?”

Mendis Vakon peered toward the shadow of the wall and spied the short, lumpy man whom all
Solace had come to fear. Despite the languid heat, the High Theocrat wore a heavy dark
cape over his brown and gold-braid robe. His gray hair was unaccountably dark and thick,
and Valcon realized Hederick was wearing the ludicrous wig he sometimes donned for state
occasions. As always, Mendis marveled that such an unassuming figure could inspire such
terror in people. Hederick was in his sixties, as near as anyone could guess, with bulging
blue eyes that had faded long ago, a spongy, bulbous nose, thin hair, and the mottled
complexion that came from imbibing too much mead for too many years. Vakon held himself
with his most military bearing and strode toward the High Theocrat. He was taller than the
religious leader, and he relished the fact that it annoyed the diminutive man. “You took
your time opening the gate,” Vakon complained. “Anyone could have seen me out there.” “At
midnight?” Hederick retorted. “I opened it at the promised time, no sooner and no later.”
He motioned for Vakon to follow him. They headed between the outer wall and a lower, inner
one that ran parallel to it. This was the corridor within which people gathered to witness
the executions of heretics and other enemies of the faith. Mendis hesitated, then spoke
warily. “I want my money. Where are you taking me?” “To get it, fool. Did you think I
would just open the gate and throw it through?” “Where is it, then?” Just to be safe,
Vakon lingered a few paces back. Hederick stepped from the outer corridor, opened a door
into Erolydon's central courtyard. Keys jangling, he unlocked a plain wooden portal that
was off to one side of the temple's huge main entrance. He stepped into a pitch-black
hallway. Vakon stopped just outside the door. “Why aren't we using the main doors,
Hederick?” The High Theocrat's carefully modulated voice, which had lulled thousands of
Seeker converts over the past decades, echoed out of the tunnel. "Mendis Vakon, you have
the sense of a mole. Why not

just pick up your reward at noon in the center of the temple courtyard, with hundreds of
people around? We must be circumspect, you blockhead. Come on.“ Vakon grunted in protest,
but still he followed Hederick into the dark tunnel. ”Didn't you order everyone to remain
in their cells?“ he complained. ”The priests and the guards? Who else would be about?"

The floor was slick, scored with deep striations. Vakon could feel the ruts through the
thin soles of his dress slippers. The tunnel seemed to lead gradually downward. “Of
course, lunatic,” Hederick snapped back. “I declared a night of prayer and fasting for
priests and novitiates alike. I have ordered all to remain in their quarters tonight.”

“So? We're safe then.” “That means they'll be confinedbut awakeyou fool. Now be silent.”
Vakon started to retort, then he reminded himself of the wealth that soon would be his,
and held his tongue. Mendis Vakon believed in no godsOld Gods, Seeker gods, or otherwise.
The Seekers, true, were manipulative, cunning, and greedy, but so were the leaders of most
of the religious movements that flourished on Krynn these days. What interested Vakon was
that the Seekers were the biggest group and the richest. And the meanest, he added to
himself. He was glad he'd slipped a dagger into a pocket in his leggings when he'd dressed
earlier that night. Suddenly, Vakon bumped into Hederick and cursed. He stretched a hand
to each side and felt only dank air. “Where are we?” he asked apprehensively. “Right
outside the treasury. Be still.” Hederick's keys clanked. Just a few more moments, Vakon
thought. It's so damned dark. Why doesn't Hederick light a torch while he opens the lock?
We're below the temple. Everyone is in their cells above us. No one will see. No one ...
Mendis Vakon turned and ran back the way he had come. His slippers skidded on the incline.
Hands caught at the back of the knotted cord that belted his shirt. The hands jerked
upward, and Vakon crashed onto his knees. He tipped forward. His head hit slimy stone, and
he cried out. Then another stone crashed into his temple. Vakon rolled over and felt for
his dagger. Hederick laughed knowingly. “I already have it, Vakon. I had to learn some
such skills in my years on the road, after all.” The priest was surprisingly strong. Vakon
felt himself being rolled across a slight rise. Suddenly the air was not merely stale, but
fetid. Vakon sprawled on uneven slabs of rock as a lock clicked behind and above him, then
he heard Hederick wheeze, as if from beyond a door. Something stirred in the blackness
within the chamber. Rats? “The dungeon!” Vakon protested. “You can't keep me in a dungeon!
I am Mayor of Solace!” A breathy chuckle came from the darkness. “No longer. I lead Solace
nowthanks in part to you, Vakon.” Another chortle. “Ironic, considering that you refused
to embrace the Seeker faith, isn't it?” Vakon scrambled to his feet and pounded at the
steel-clad door. Dimly, he saw a small, barred window and sensed the High Theocrat peering
through. Then a torch flared from Hederick's side of the door, and Mendis Vakon found
himself eye to eye with the Seeker. “Seekerism is claptrap,” Vakon hissed. “False miracles
and phony revelations. Your Seekerism is a farce, Hederick!” “I knew you'd feel that way,
Mendis Vakon,” Hederick replied. “In fact, I have several witnesses who heard you speak in
just such a fashion last night in the Inn of the Last Home.” “I was in no tavern last
night, the Inn or otherwise!” “My witnesses say you were. It's blasphemy, you know, to
criticize the Seeker gods, Vakon. The Praxis says so. And the Praxis guides my life, as it
does that of all truly pious people.” A snarl broke the silence in the chamber behind
Mertdis Vakon, and Hederick laughed. Vakon flung himself around as the rumblinghalfway
between a growl and thunderreverberated within the stone walls. Whatever lurked in the
shadows was dreadfully near. “You're a heretic, Vakon,” Hederick hissed through the door.
“Heretics deserve to die.”