Amber and Ashes - Margaret Weis [108]
“What can I do to help?” he asked gently.
A beautiful and shapely hand slid out of the bundle of black robes. The hand grasped hold of Rhys’s arm. Sharp nails dug into his flesh. Sea green eyes glittered, and a voice hissed from the shadows of the cowl.
“Slay Ausric Krell,” said Zeboim, hissing the name in venomous hatred, “and save my son.”
eboim’s eyes shone with a wild and lurid light. Her face was deathly pale, her cheeks marred by bloody scratches, as though she had clawed herself. Her lips were cracked and rimed with a white powder, like sea salt or perhaps the salt of her tears.
“Majesty?” Rhys said, bewildered. “What are you doing in this place? In prison? Are you … are you ill?”
He knew that was a stupid question, but the situation was so bizarre and unreal that he was having trouble ordering his thoughts and he said the first thing that came into his head.
“Gods, why do I bother with you mortals!” cried Zeboim. She gave him a shove that flung him off-balance, sent him toppling sideways. Then, casting her cowl over her head, she hid her face in her hands and began to sob.
Rhys gazed grimly at the goddess. He did not know which he was more inclined to do—comfort her or shake her until her immortal teeth rattled.
“What are you doing here, Majesty, in a prison cell?” he asked.
No answer. The goddess sobbed stormily.
He tried again. “Why did you send for me?”
“Because I need your help, damn it!” she cried in tear-muffled tones.
“And I need yours, Majesty,” Rhys said. “I have discovered some profoundly disturbing things about these followers of Chemosh. I have prayed to you countless times in the past few days and you have not answered me. All of these disciples are dead. They appear to be alive, but they are not. They go out among the living and trick innocent young people into proclaiming their loyalty to Chemosh, and then they murder—”
“Chemosh!” Zeboim raised her swollen and tear-streaked face to glare at him. “Chemosh is behind this, you know. That steel-plated idiot Krell could not have come up with this on his own. Not that it matters. Not that any of it matters. My son. He is all that matters.”
“Majesty, please try to control yourself—”
Zeboim sprang up suddenly, seized hold of Rhys’s arms, clutched at him with both hands. “You must save him, monk! They’ll destroy him, otherwise. I can do nothing …” Her voice rose to a shriek. “You must save him!”
“Are you all right, Brother?” Gerard called, his voice echoing down the long corridor.
“All is well, Sheriff,” Rhys returned hastily. “Give me just a few more moments.”
He took hold of Zeboim’s hands, pressed them tightly. He spoke to her in soothing tones, his voice low and firm. “You need to explain to me what is the matter, Majesty. I cannot help you if I don’t know what you are talking about. We don’t have much time.”
Zeboim drew in a sobbing breath. “You are right, monk. I will be calm. I promise. I have to be. I must be.”
She began to pace about the prison cell, beating her hands together as she spoke.
“My son, Lord Ariakan. Yes, I know he’s dead,” she added, forestalling the question on Rhys’s lips. “My son died long ago in the Chaos War.” Her hands clenched to fists. “He died due to the treachery, the perfidy of a man he trusted. A man he had raised up from the muck—”
“Majesty, please …” Rhys prompted quietly.
Zeboim passed a hand over her brow, distracted.
“When my son died, I thought … I assumed that his spirit would continue on to the next stage of the soul’s journey. Instead”—she struggled for breath—“instead Chemosh kept his spirit, imprisoned it. He’s held my son captive all these long years.”
Zeboim’s voice dropped, low and throbbing with fear. “Now he has given the spirit of my son to the death knight who betrayed him. A death knight named Ausric Krell”—she choked on the name, as though it were a foul taste in her mouth—“is threatening to destroy my son’s spirit, to cast him into oblivion. Of course, Krell is acting under orders from Chemosh.”
“I assume, then, Majesty, that Chemosh is holding your son’s spirit hostage so