Amber and Ashes - Margaret Weis [62]
Rhys shifted his feet, clasped his staff in both hands, and eased himself into a martial stance. Lleu was not wearing his sword; the monks would have forbade him from bringing a sword into the monastery. He was in the throes of religious ecstasy, however, and that made him dangerous.
“Chemosh does not want you to have any of that. He seeks only your destruction.”
“On the contrary, I already have everything I was promised,” said Lleu lightly. “Nothing can harm me.”
Turning back to the table, he lifted up a soup bowl and held it for Rhys to see. “That’s mine. Empty. I ate the water hemlock as did the rest of these poor fools. I had to eat it, of course, otherwise they might have been suspicious. They are dead. And I am not.”
This could have been a lie, bravado, but Rhys guessed from his brother’s tone and his expression that it wasn’t. Lleu had spoken the truth. He’d ingested the poison and was unscathed. Rhys thought suddenly of the dog bite, the absence of blood.
Lleu tossed the bowl carelessly back onto the table. “My life is one of pleasure and ease. I know neither hunger nor thirst. Chemosh provides all. I want for nothing. You can know the same life, brother.”
“I don’t want that life,” said Rhys. “If ‘life’ is what you call it.”
“Then I guess you had better die,” said Lleu in nonchalant tones. “Either way, Chemosh will have you. The spirits of all those who die by violence come to him.”
“I have no fear of death. My soul will go to my god,” Rhys replied.
“Majere?” Lleu chuckled. “He won’t care. He’s off somewhere watching a caterpillar crawl up a blade of grass.” Lleu’s tone changed, became menacing. “Majere has neither the will nor the power to stop Chemosh. Just as this old man lacked the power to stop me.”
Rhys looked about at the dead, looked at the hideously contorted face of the Master, and Rhys felt a sudden stirring of rage. Lleu was right. Majere could have done something. He should have done something to prevent this. His monks had dedicated their lives to him. They had worked and sacrificed. In their hour of need, the god abandoned them. They had cried to him in their death throes, and he had turned a deaf ear.
Majere’s monks were commanded to take no sides in any conflict. Perhaps the god himself was refusing to take sides in this one. Perhaps the souls of his beloved Master and his brethren were having to fight alone against the Lord of Death.
Anger twisted inside Rhys, hot and clenching and bitter-tasting. Anger at the god, anger at himself.
“I should have been here. I could have stopped this.”
Rhys had pleaded as an excuse that he was with the god, but in truth, his own selfish longing for peace and quiet had kept him from being where he was needed. Because both he and Majere had failed those who put their faith in them, nineteen people were dead.
He wrestled with himself, berating himself, and at the same time, fought against the rage that made his hands itch to seize hold of his murderous brother and strangle him. Rhys was so involved in his internal struggle that he took his eyes off Lleu.
His brother was quick to take advantage. Seizing the heavy crockery bowl, he hurled it with all his might.
The bowl struck Rhys between the eyes. Pain burst in his skull, red-hot pain fringed with yellow-tinged fire, so that he couldn’t think. Blood poured down his face, into his eyes, blinding him. He staggered, clutched at the table to remain standing. He had the dizzying impression of Lleu lunging for him and another impression of a black and white body hurtling past him. Rhys tasted blood in his mouth. He was falling and he stretched out his hand to stop his fall, reached out his hand to the Master …
A monk in orange robes stood before Rhys. The monk’s face was familiar to him, though he’d never before seen it. The monk had a resemblance to the Master, and at the same time to all the other brethren of the monastery. The monk’s eyes were calm and tranquil, his demeanor mild.
Rhys knew him.
“Majere …” Rhys whispered, awed.
The god regarded him steadily, not answering.
“Majere!” Rhys