Nonetheless, Tarscenian, I swore an oath to my brother.
"Hederick despises you, Ancilla. I could dispatch him with a quick thrust of steel. He'd not hesitate to do the same to you, you know that. For your sake, I'd make sure it was instantaneous, which is more than he'd grant you."
No, Tarscenian. I cannot renege on such an oath.
"Let me follow him, at least, and divine where he keeps the Diamond Dragon. I will try to steal it back for you."
We have tried that. You are a crafty illusionist, my love, but you have no skills as a thief. And Hederick knows what you look like now.
"I could hire a thief."
We have tried that, too. Many times. But perhaps Solace thieves are more adept than those we have engaged in the past. Do that-hire one. It is something, anyway.
Tarscenian's thoughts shifted. "We were not able to save the woman Crealora."
We eased her passage to the next world. She felt little pain.
"But she died!"
The woman is with Paladine, my friend. She is away from the pain of this world. It is not our place to wish her back.
Tarscenian did not reply. This time it was Ancilla's turn to offer comfort.
Don't despair, my love. Lie low until the guards stop looking for you, and then find us a ring of thieves. I will do what I can from here. I still have a few ways to annoy my brother, never fear. Perhaps I cannot stop him permanently, but surely I can make his life miserable.. .as he has made mine.
Chapter 8
The high Theocrat changed into a fresh robe after the execution and turned his sullied garment over to a novitiate for burning. Then Hederick headed straight for the Great Chamber. He sent Dahos and the others away, then clos shy;eted himself to prepare for the evening revelations.
He may have defeated one of the greatest mages ever, but routine was sacred. Seeker gods did not tolerate slop-piness.
Everything in the Great Chamber was out of place today, of course. It always was this way, despite repeated punishment of his terrified aides. The incense holders, the ceremonial crystals, the holy parchments-all were only a hairsbreadth awry, but wrong nonetheless. Had no one else read the Praxis?
Hederick resolved to speak once more with his high
priest. Perhaps he would have to make an example of one of the novitiates before the rest applied themselves more dutifully. But now he busied himself setting things to rights in the pulpit. It wouldn't do to have the Greater and Lesser Pantheons gaze down on untidiness when he sum shy;moned them before hundreds of devout Seekers.
Setting out the ritual implements according to intricate, century-old patterns was an exacting task, but Hederick had a passion for detail. He routinely caught lapses in Seeker protocol that far younger men missed.
I may be well past sixty, but I have sharper faculties than most priests, he told himself. That's why I'm High Theocrat. The New Gods have blessed me. After all, they helped me defeat Ancilla.
He stood a little straighter despite the cramp that had creased his back since the tussle with Mendis Vakon. Hed shy;erick frowned and moved the goblet of holy mead an inch to the right.
Then he froze. Cold fire gripped the pit of his stomach. Sweat drenched him.
He swept the room with a stare.
Undeniably, Hederick was alone. But not alone.
The High Theocrat stood quietly for a moment. Then he reached into the front of his robe and pulled out the Dia shy;mond Dragon. He removed the leather covering and shook the artifact onto his palm.
The Diamond Dragon, as always, was warm to the touch and all aglitter. Hederick squinted and stared directly at it, even though that always made his head ache. If he concentrated enough, he could see the artifact's outline: jagged scales, wicked tail, and toothy maw of a tiny dragon. A lance grew from its midsection like some misplaced egg tooth.
Crafted in precious steel, with ruby eyes and encrusted with diamonds all down its back, the thing was worth a fortune. Early in his Seeker career, when he had been poor enough to fear starvation, he was tempted to pawn it.
But Sauvay, his god, had invested it with his blessing. The Diamond Dragon had protected Hederick more than once. The High Theocrat stroked the figurine, replaced it in the bag, and dropped the pendant inside his robe once more. The knot in his stomach eased.
Then the fear hit full-force. He was being observed, and the observer was malevolent. Hederick maintained his emotionless mien and, as though it were an afternoon like any other, poured sanctified mead from a silver vase into a stemmed goblet of crystal, its tiny bowl barely larger than a thimble.
Hederick had performed this rite many times in his decades as a Seeker. So practiced were his actions that even now, with his pulse hammering, none of the sweet fluid dripped onto the altar cloth. The High Theocrat felt the hair prickle at the back of his neck. He carefully replaced the vase on the altar, then raised the chalice and quaffed the honey-colored beverage.
"To you, Great Ones, I offer my fealty," he murmured. "I greet another evening with hope and passion, and I beseech you to punish this sacrilege of your holy chamber … for something threatens the peace of this place." He quickly poured another glass of mead and downed that one, too.
As always with the potent beverage, Hederick's vision swirled, then snapped into focus. But unlike the other times, on this occasion he suddenly felt exposed and vul shy;nerable, so high above the floor of the Great Chamber. Vertigo assailed him, then faded away.
Because of Hederick's lack of physical stature, he'd derived peculiar joy in ordering the builders of the temple Erolydon to construct the holy altar and pulpit at the top of four narrow flights of stairs. Each sunset, when Heder shy;ick passed on the revelations of the New Gods, he spoke down-down, he rejoiced-to the hushed worshipers that
jammed the tiers of wooden benches. Special windows and mirrors allowed the blushing sunsets over Crystalmir Lake to pour into the room, bathing the priestly figure at the top of the chamber in glorious purples, pinks, and scarlets.
Then, as now, the pulpit gave him an unobstructed view of everything within the Great Chamber.
Hederick raised his head, gaze shifting around the cav shy;ernous amphitheater. There was no sign of an intruder, but he had the distinct feeling that somebody's eyes were upon him. Slowly the feeling grew, until he felt seared by what was happening, as if his skin was blistered and peel shy;ing away in charred strips. His free hand found its way back to his neck and again grasped the leather-swaddled dragon figurine.
Face me.
The unheard words filled Hederick. The priest felt his mind expand and contract dizzyingly. His body remained motionless, arrested in the act of lowering the sacred chal shy;ice to the altar. But in his mind, Hederick saw himself bleeding on the marble floor below, at the bottom of the vallenwood stairs. The broken Hederick of his imagina shy;tion lay naked to whatever torture the Presence that shared this chamber chose to inflict.
Face me.
"Unholy thing!" the religious leader shrieked. Tremors shook him. "Sorcery's bastard! Show yourself!"
I am Ancilla. Face me, dear one.
"You are dead!"
Alas, my little brother, you are mistaken.
Hederick shook a tightly clenched fist in the air and shouted again into the vast and seemingly empty cham shy;ber. "For decades I walked the roads of northern Ansa-lon, witch, spreading the word of the deliverance to come," he shouted. "I am-I was-the Holy Wanderer of the Seekers. Entire villages joined the Seekers upon my
inspiration. I worked miracles in the name of the New Gods!" His voice dropped to a piercing whisper. "Always you have followed me, dear sister. And never have you defeated me. Nor will you. I proved that this afternoon. You had never been stronger-but I was stronger still." Hederick placed the crystal chalice on the altar and shook his fist again. "This is my temple. You cannot hurt me here!"
There was no answer.
After a moment, Hederick's hands weakened and fell to his sides. He damply fingered the folds of his robe. The ache grew behind his eyes, and sweat trickled through his hair. His heart lurched.
I'm getting old, he thought suddenly. How many more years of this can I stand?