Part 23 (1/2)

Cale sighed and looked across the table into Tamlin's eyes. ”My respect is hard-earned these days, my lord.”

Tamlin stared across the table, waiting.

”No, I do not,” Cale admitted, and once he opened the gate, the army poured forth. ”I do not think you understand the scope of the problems before you, before the city. I could see that after walking the streets for only one day. You still think like a n.o.bleman, not a statesman. And you take counsel from fools like Vees Talendar. And still you-”

He cut himself off. He had said enough. He could see the hurt in Tamlin's eyes, and below that, the angry defiance. Cale knew the expression well. Tamlin often had shown it when his father had demanded something of him. Tamlin had always disliked anyone demanding anything of him.

Tamlin took another bite of beef and said tightly, ”You come back for a single day after being gone a year and think to take the measure of me, Vees, and the city all at a glance?”

”My absence did not render me blind,” Cale answered. ”Or stupid.”

Tamlin stared at him across the table. ”Thank you for your candor, Mister Cale.” He dropped his utensils. ”You will excuse me. My appet.i.te has pa.s.sed.”

”My lord-”

”We leave for Ordulin as soon as I can get some final matters resolved,” Tamlin said as he rose. ”The fool to whom I sometimes listen will not be accompanying us. He must attend ceremonies at the new temple.”

Cale nodded. He thought of apologizing but could not bring himself to do it.

”Good eve, my lord.”

”Good eve, Mister Cale.”

Cale finished the meal alone and in silence.

Afterward, he walked the halls until he reached the kitchen and was warmly welcomed by Brilla. She wiped down a butcher's block, set him down on a stool, and smiled as she watched him eat her raisin and syrup torte.

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Vees shed his false face-that of a spoiled dilettante n.o.bleman-and entered the temple through the concealed doorway in the alley. He had murdered the four stonemasons who had knowledge of the secret entrance, using the curved sacrificial knife at his belt to cut their throats.

He closed the pivoting secret door behind him and walked down the steep stairs that led into the secret wors.h.i.+p hall below the false temple to Siamorphe. When he reached the vestry off the hall, he donned a ceremonial robe that awaited him there-a voluminous black velvet affair with purple piping. Whispering a prayer to his G.o.ddess, he walked the corridor to the main wors.h.i.+p hall.

His steps carried him through one of the magically created areas of silence that surrounded the hall. His footsteps on the stone went quiet. A ring of such areas surrounded the wors.h.i.+p hall, as did a series of magical screens to prevent scryings. Anything that happened within the hall could be heard and seen only by those in attendance. The secrecy of the design pleased the Lady.

The wors.h.i.+p hall of the Lady's temple lay directly below the wors.h.i.+p hall of Siamorphe. Like Vees, the temple had a false face. Like Vees, the temple purported to serve one purpose while serving another.

He reached the edge of the area of silence and immediately sensed the change-the whimpers of the sacrifice victim and the murmur of the wors.h.i.+pers suddenly sounded in his ears. He pulled up his hood-none of the wors.h.i.+pers knew his true ident.i.ty-and pushed open the apse door. A rustle of movement greeted him as the wors.h.i.+pers turned to watch him enter. Even the sacrifice went silent. The large, semicircular wors.h.i.+p hall smelled of tallow candles and fear-tinged sweat.

Vees held up his arms and spoke aloud the supplication.

”In the darkness of night we hear the whisper of the void.”

”Heed its words,” responded the eight wors.h.i.+pers of Shar. ”Welcome, Dark Watcher.”

”Welcome, dark sisters and brothers,” Vees answered, and moved to the altar.

The wors.h.i.+pers lowered themselves onto kneelers, heads down as he pa.s.sed. No accoutrements of the faith adorned the altar or the wors.h.i.+p hall. No windows allowed outside light. The Lady and the Nightseer wished it so.

The room was dark but for the candles that burned in candelabra at the head and feet of the bound and naked sacrifice. Shadows played over the bare walls, the arched ceiling.

Vees a.s.sumed the sacrifice-a thin, malnourished man-to be one of the refugees from upcountry. He stepped behind the altar and smiled within his hood. The difficult times in Selgaunt had made sacrifices so easy to obtain.

Sweat glistened on the man's body; he stank of fear. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He stared up at Vees with wide, terrified eyes.

”Do not,” he said, his voice a croak. He must have been crying, or screaming, before Vees arrived. ”Please.”

Vees ignored him and looked out on the wors.h.i.+pers. He moved to one candelabrum and blew out all but one of the candles, then did the same with the other. A deeper darkness settled on the chamber.

”Darkness has fallen and the Lady of Loss is with us,” Vees said. ”Give her now your bitterness. Lay your losses before her.”

He waited while the wors.h.i.+pers confessed aloud the matters that had made them bitter, the things they had lost, the grudges they had developed since the last time the group had met the month before. The hubbub of voices made it impossible for Vees to distinguish sentences or speakers, but Vees knew the Lady heard them all and rejoiced.

When the wors.h.i.+pers completed the ritual and fell silent, Vees said, ”The Lady is pleased by your offerings made in this, her new temple. The construction is nearly complete. We turn now to the sanctification of her altar, which requires blood.”

The sacrifice writhed, pleaded. ”No! No!”

Vees reached under his robes and withdrew the sacrificial dagger. He held it above the man.

The sacrifice fought against his bonds. His breath came so quickly he would soon lose consciousness. Vees could see every tendon in his body, every muscle.

”Your despair is sweet to the Lady,” Vees said, and raised the blade for a killing strike.

The sacrifice stared wide-eyed at the blade's point and screamed.

CHAPTER TEN

1 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms.

Cale awoke in his chamber before dawn. He had not dreamed of Magadon since arriving in Selgaunt and did not know what to make of it. Mask's words haunted him: Magadon will suffer in the meanwhile Magadon will suffer in the meanwhile.

Cale dressed and met Tamlin a bit after dawn in the main hall. They exchanged pleasantries and walked side by side across the grounds to the stables. Tamlin wore his father's ermine-trimmed traveling cloak with a rapier, but no armor or s.h.i.+eld. Cale recalled that armor interfered with Tamlin's ability to cast spells. A satchel with two thick, leather-bound tomes hung over his shoulder.

Books on spellcraft, Cale a.s.sumed with some surprise, since he had never known Tamlin to favor reading. Tamlin had become a moderately accomplished sorcerer over the years. If only his leaders.h.i.+p and talent for statesmans.h.i.+p had matured as much as his magical ability.

”Your mount will regret your choice of reading material, my lord,” said Cale.

Tamlin smiled tightly. ”Just something of interest to me.”

For his part, Cale wore his enchanted leather armor, his daggers, and Weaveshear. Pouches at his belt held his lockpicking kit and his coin purse. His pack held his bedroll, rope, and the magical tome he had taken from the Fane of Shadows. He carried the Shadowlord's mask in his pocket.

”I received word late last night that Mother and Tazi arrived safely at Storl Oak,” Tamlin said. ”I understand that was your suggestion?”

Cale nodded. ”Were they escorted, my lord?”

”Of course,” Tamlin snapped, an edge in his voice. ”I am not a fool, Mister Cale, despite your suggestion to the contrary. Eight members of the house guard rode with them, including Captain Orrin. Five more men plus Talbot await them at Storl Oak.”