Amber and Ashes - Margaret Weis [33]
Zeboim touched the armor with her fingertips, then she gave it a shove.
The armor collapsed. The mailed gauntlets fell to the floor. The cuirass sagged sideways in the chair. The greaves toppled to the left and right. His two boots remained standing, stationary, in place. Zeboim walked over to the helm. She thrust out a delicate foot, nudging the helm disdainfully with her toe. The ram’s skull helm rocked a little, then settled. The empty eye sockets, dark as death, stared at nothing.
Mina remained on her knees, her head lowered, her arms crossed in humble supplication across her breast. The wind that was the goddess’s escort was chill and raw, and Mina shivered uncontrollably. She kept watch on the goddess out of the corner of her eye.
“You did this, worm?” Zeboim demanded. “Alone?”
“Yes, Majesty,” Mina answered humbly.
“I don’t believe it.” Zeboim looked swiftly about the room, as if certain there must be an army hidden away in the bookshelves or a mighty warrior tucked into a cupboard. Not finding anything except rats, the goddess looked back at Mina. “Still, you were Mommy’s pet. There must be something more to you than appears on the surface.”
The goddess’s voice softened, warmed to springtime, a ripple of breath over sun-drenched water. “Have you chosen a new god to follow, child?”
Before it had been “worm.” Now it was “child.” Mina hid her smile. She had foreseen this question, and she was prepared with her answer. Keeping her eyes lowered, Mina answered, “My loyalty and my faith are with the dead.”
Zeboim frowned, displeased. “Bah! Takhisis can do nothing for you now. Faith such as yours should be rewarded.”
“I ask for no reward,” Mina replied. “I seek only to serve.”
“You are a liar, child, but such an amusing liar that I’ll let it pass.”
Mina glanced up at the goddess with a twinge of concern. Had Zeboim seen into her heart?
“The weak-minded among the pantheon might be deceived by your show of piety, but I am not,” Zeboim continued disdainfully. “All mortals want a reward in return for their faith. No one ever does something for nothing.”
Mina breathed easier.
“Come now, child,” Zeboim continued in wheedling tones, “you risked your life to destroy that maggot Krell. What is the real reason? And don’t tell me you did it because his treachery offended your fine sense of honor.”
Mina lifted her eyes to meet the gray-green eyes of the goddess. “I would like to have something, if it’s not too much to ask, Majesty.”
“I thought so!” Zeboim was smug. “What do you want, child? A sea chest filled with emeralds? A thousand strands of pearls? Your own fleet of sailing ships? Or perhaps the fabled treasure of the Dark Knights that lies in the vaults below? I feel generous. Tell me your wish, and I will grant it.”
“The death knight’s helm, My Lady,” Mina replied. “That is what I want.”
“His helm?” Zeboim repeated, amazed. She made a scornful gesture toward the helm that lay on the floor, near the mummified hand of one of his victims. “That heap of metal is worth next to nothing. A traveling circus might give you a few coins for it, though I doubt even they would be much interested.”
“Nevertheless that is what I want,” said Mina. “That is my wish.”
“Take it, then, by all means,” returned Zeboim, adding in a mutter, “Foolish chit. I could have made you rich beyond your dreams. I can’t think what my mother saw in you.”
Mina rose to her feet. Conscious of the goddess’s annoyed gaze upon her, she walked past the khas board, past the toppled suit of armor, past the two chairs to the far corner. The ram’s skull helm lay on the floor. Mina cast a glance at Zeboim. The goddess’s ever-changing eyes had gone gray as the stone walls of the Keep. The restless winds stirred her hair and clothes.
“She hoped to ensnare me,” Mina said to herself, as she turned away. “Keep me in her debt by lavishing wealth upon me. I did not lie. My loyalty and my faith