Mistress of the Night (29 page)

"Velsinore!"

Feena tensed in alarm, but Velsinore only grunted, angry. "Be careful, Chandri! It might be something among them that drove Dhauna and Julith to madness." She grunted again, and said, "Perhaps it's time these archives were purged."

"Velsinore," asked one of the other priestesses timidly, "what will happen to Julith now?"

"Selune will judge her, Tam." Velsinore's voice was calm. Her footsteps retreated. "After the funeral, when the moon is waxing again—Selune will judge her."

"What about what the Sharran told her?" bleated Chandri.

Velsinore's footsteps stopped.

For a moment there was silence, then Velsinore said, "Attend to your work, sisters. When Selune waxes, we'll put an end to the Sharran and his kind. Now hurry— there's a lot to do."

Her footsteps began again, marching out of the archives. Other footsteps scurried in her wake. After a moment, the archives were silent once more, though Velsinore's light remained.

Feena put her jaw down on her paws and allowed herself a thin growl. Obviously Julith and presumably Keph along with her had been captured, but she wondered what the young man could have said to put Tam and Chandri into such a state of alarm. She whined and slapped her tail on the floor. She needed to get out of the archives and find out what was going on. Feena started rise, to change back into a woman.

Silver flashed in the corner of her eye.

Feena sank back down and peered in at the lowest level of the shelves she crouched beside. Back behind dusty, cracked scrolls—there was something there. Something that shone with silver, but that only a wolfs sharp eyes might see and even then only if the animal was stretched out on the ground. Feena made her transformation, then knelt down again and reached blindly past the scrolls. Her fingers closed on a slim book, its leather binding furred and soft with age. She pulled it out carefully.

The book's cover was black. The silver that decorated it was dull and mostly tarnished, but the hair-thin ring that stood in the center of the cover was still somehow bright.

"Moonmaiden's grace," Feena breathed.

She rose and moved out into the light. Drawing a shallow breath, she opened the cover of the book. Leather that should have crumbled held firm. There was magic at work.

Cramped, heavy script filled the first page. The book bore no title, but it began with a date: Feast of the Moon, the Year of Lost Wayfarers. Feena bit her lip. That was five months after the suppression of the New Moon Pact. Eyes wide, she read:

Feast of the Moon, the Year of Lost Wayfarers. To the one who comes—

Hear the tale of the New Moon Pact, destroyed by lies. In Selune's name and by her grace, I make this record. All around me, the tales of the Pact are wiped away day by day. My pack is gone, but by Selune's hand I survive. By her will, I carry its ancient history in my heart. On this day dedicated to the honored dead, I begin my secret record. Bright Lady of Night, grant me the years to finish it.

The priestesses of Moonshadow Hall know me as Asha the Silent. Six months ago, I had a different name and a different form. Until Selune laid her hand upon me, my name was Halftail and I was a wolf.

When the time is right, I pray that you read what Selune granted me human hands and mind to record. I pray that you

restore the name and lore of the New Moon Pact, charged by Selune in the earliest nights of the world to watch and defend against the darkest shadows. What time has consumed, not even gods can recall, but know this—these words were spoken by those who first made pact with the Moonmaiden, just as they were spoken by the last. This is the sacred rite of the New Moon.

Feena closed the book and squeezed her eyes shut. Her dream... the New Moon Pact...

"Oh, Dhauna," Feena murmured. "Bright Lady of the Night, have pity on a tortured spirit."

CHAPTER 14

The shadows seemed to go on forever, bleak and black. Cold, their touch was like a dark sea fog rolling across Keph's body and spirit. Variance was gone. He was alone—and helpless. There was nothing he could do but... drift...

Sound came back to him first.

"The call went out at dusk as you instructed, Mother Night," Bolan's voice said. "The faithful are assembling now. They will bring weapons."

"Good," replied Variance. "Go make what preparations you need to for yourself."

"I've been preparing for this for years, Mother Night." Bolan sounded like he might actually cry. Keph could hardly imagine tears breaking out on that cold white face. "I have a chest filled with formulas I thought I might never use. The poison Cyrume took was the least of what waits for the Selunites."

Smell... Recognition of an odor that had been

in his nose for some time filtered into Keph's consciousness: raw, cold stone. He was in the cliff tunnels. In Shar's temple. His heart clenched and his eyes opened.

Darkness weighed upon the air. The only light was a dim glow, a single candle that burned on the other side of the temple. Against it, Bolan and Variance were silhouettes, the alchemist squat and nightmarish, the Calishite woman tall and stiff. Her arm reached out and came down on Bolan's wide shoulder.

"This is the time we have been waiting for. This is what the Temple of Old Night sent me to Yhaunn to oversee. The Selunites' attempt to steal Keph from us was only the final blow."

Keph caught his breath at the lie. What—?

Bolan hissed in righteous anger. "Moonshadow Hall will crumble!" He stepped away and bowed low, the candlelight shifting with his movements. "We will do honor to Shar tonight."

"I do hot doubt it," said Variance. "Now, go. I have preparations of my own to make."

Bolan bowed again and the light bounced—then dimmed and faded as the squat man trotted away. Keph almost gasped and called out after him: Leave the candle, Bolan, please!

The words faltered in his throat. Darkness, utter darkness, cloaked Shar's temple.

"You're finally awake."

Variance's voice—far kinder than the last time she had spoken to him—emerged from the shadows. Her footsteps approached across the raw stone of the floor, as sure as if she walked through the brilliance of daylight. Keph flinched away. For the first time, he realized that he was stretched out on wood, maybe a broad bench. His arms and legs were untied. He sat up, and the movement brought pain. Fire shot through his ankle and across his face where the priest Aeso had struck him. He gasped and fell back.

"Be still."

A hand touched him. He tried to pull away, but

Variance pressed him down against the wood with shocking strength.

"By the glory of Shar, be healed."

The agony that surged through him was almost worse than his injuries. Keph jerked and spasmed, his head cracking back hard. The false brightness of pain exploded across his vision—but when it cleared, the ache in his ankle was gone and his face felt no more than tender. Variance lifted her hand away.

Keph gulped air and sat up, trembling with relief. He stared blindly into the darkness. She'd healed him. Why?

Variance gave a soft laugh and said, "Do you think that just because you're blind, I am as well? I see confusion on your face, Keph. You have questions. Ask them." He heard liquid pour. Variance put a metal cup into his hand. "Water," she said. "Nothing more."

He didn't move. After a moment, Variance released him and stood up. He heard a rustle of clothing and footsteps as she moved away, then returned. A tindertwig scratched on stone and flared bright as Variance lit a candle.

"Light, Keph," she said, holding the candle out to him.

"You were angry," he rasped. Fear made a hard lump in his stomach.

"Of course I was angry," Variance said calmly. "I was worried. When Bolan told me that the Selunites had captured you, I feared for you. Praise Shar, I was able to reach you before they could start their torture. The werewolves among them—"

"Torture?"

The Selunites hadn't been going to torture him. And werewolves? The only werewolf among the Selunites of Moonshadow Hall was Feena, and she had been long gone when he and Julith had been captured.

Julith... He remembered the young priestess staring as Variance...

Keph blinked Variance's voice was inside his head, seductive and haunting, weaving lies among his memories.

The cup fell from his hand to splash water across wood and stone as he thrust himself backward, away from the pale woman. If Quick had been at his side, Keph would have drawn her—but the Selunites still had the blade.

"Stop it!" he gasped at Variance.

She narrowed her eyes. Her voice surged back, harsher than before. "I brought you to safety..."

Keph clenched his teeth and pushed back against the whispers, straining with all the strength of his will.

"No!" he shouted.

The force of the denial was shocking, like a slap in the face. In an instant his head was clear and Variance's eyes were hard in the candlelight. Breathing hard, his heart pounding, Keph tensed and met her gaze.

"Stay out of my head!" he snarled.

Variance pressed her lips together. For a moment, she was silent, then she whispered, "My words come back to haunt me. I did say you had remarkable strength of will, didn't I?" She shrugged. "Very well. Keep your memories."

Keph's breath caught in his throat. He gaped at the priestess.

"You-"

"—admit surrender?" Variance's eyebrows rose. "Why shouldn't I?"

Silence dropped. It was all Keph could do to stare. She was giving up? The priestess whose disdain had once made him grovel, the woman who spoke for the Lady of Loss, was admitting defeat? Suddenly, his rage was gone, stolen out from under him so quickly that his head spun in confusion. The fear that had driven him to flee Yhaunn, the sense of purpose he had found in helping Feena... they were gone as well. If Variance was just giving up, what was there to be afraid of? Off balance, he groped desperately for something to help make sense of what was happening.

"This is some kind of trick," he said, taking another step away from her.

Variance gave him a measured look and asked, "How is it a trick?"

He struggled for an answer. "You... you lied to Bolan. You told him the Selunites tried to steal me away. You know that's not what happened."

"You want me to tell Bolan the truth?" She opened her free hand as if releasing some captured insect. "That your faith failed? That you tried to flee? That you fell in with Selunites? That I dragged you back through Shadow by the hair on your head? What purpose would there be in telling Bolan that? He would strike you down on the spot. But so long as he believes the Selunites snatched you away, you're Shar's hero. If I had convinced you of the same thing, no one would have known any different."

"But you didn't convince me."

"No, I didn't," Variance agreed. "I might have, though. . If plans never succeed, why bother making them at all? But I serve the Lady of Loss. One of her harshest lessons is learning to recognize when a plan has failed and there's no hope of taking it any farther." She turned away and began walking across the temple. "It's clear that you've turned away from Shar. Drawing you back isn't worth the effort."

Keph stopped, his feet heavy, his heart in his throat. "You're... you're letting me go?"

"If I wanted to harm you, I could do it easily enough." She glanced back at him and said, "Come with me unless you want to stand in the dark."

It wasn't an answer to his question, but he hesitated, then followed her.

"You and Jarull," he said, "you've been manipulating me."

"More or less," Variance replied. On the far side of the temple, she turned down a curving tunnel. "It's regrettable that you fell in with the Selunites. I'd be curious to know how that happened."

"It was coincidence."

Variance said, "You'll find there's no coincidence where gods take a hand, Keph."

"Maybe ... maybe Selune is giving me a chance to redeem myself."

"Or perhaps Shar chose to show me that your faith was weak." She paused and turned to look at him. Her face was placid, but cold. "The Mistress of the Night could have given you many rewards, Keph. I spoke no lie when I said you had the potential to become one of Shar's priests. It would have been best for both of us if your faith had been stronger—or if your will had been weaker."

"It's a good thing Shar teaches you loss then, isn't it?" Keph said.

"Shar teaches the anticipation of loss," answered Variance. "Even if I prefer to expect that my plans will succeed, I prepare for the possibility of failure."

She raised the candle. Stone walls shone with slowly trickling water and slick mineral deposits—then ended abruptly in darkness. Just beyond Variance's reach lay a shadow that seemed to consume the candle's feeble glow, resisting its light. Variance held out her hand and spoke a prayer under her breath. Like mist before a wind, the shadow parted.

Keph stared.

Chained like a dog to the stone floor, Jarull jerked back from the sudden light, covering his eyes and howling in agony—then clapping his hands to his ears as if the sound of his own voice were painful. Howls dropped into moans and the big man swung his head back and forth like an animal driven to madness.

With the parting of the shadow, the stench of excrement filled the tunnel as well. The pants that Jarull wore were stained and horribly crusted. His skin was pale, his tall frame gaunt, and his hair, a tangled nest. The fingers that cupped his ears were torn and bloody. When his open mouth swung into the light, Keph could see that his tongue was raw and red as well. The rock walls within reach of the chain had been rubbed clean of mineral deposits. Jarull had been licking the stone for water.

• It was as if his friend had been chained there for days— for tendays. But that wasn't possible. He'd seen Jarull practically every day—
  

But Jarull's mother hadn't. Wasn't that what Strasus had said? And Strasus and Dagnalla hadn't been able to locate Jarull with magic.

The chained man wore no amethyst ring. Keph raised his head and stared at Variance. The dark priestess had her hands crossed, but the purple gem of her ring winked between her fingers. Keph clenched his teeth.