Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [89]
Mina remembered that she had once envisioned an army of dead men—corpses marching to battle. Like the Lord of Death, she had imagined this would be the perfect army. Like him, she now began to realize the very traits that could make a man weak were those that also made him a good soldier.
“Nothing is going right for me!” Chemosh left off watching the ridiculous scene on the parade ground and stalked over to the door that led back inside his castle. “Everyone has failed me. Even you, who profess to love me.”
“Do not say I have failed you, my lord,” Mina pleaded.
She caught up with him and twined her hands around his arm.
“Haven’t you?” He glared at her and flung her away. “Where are my holy artifacts? You were inside the Solio Febalas. You had my artifacts in your grasp, and you came back with nothing. Nothing! And you refuse to go back there.”
Mina lowered her eyes before his rage. She looked down at his hands, at the lace falling over the slender fingers. His hands had not caressed her for many nights now, and she longed for his touch.
“Do not be angry with me, my dearest lord. I have tried to explain. The Solio Febalas is … holy. Sanctified. The power and majesty of the gods—all the gods—are in the chamber. I could not touch anything. I did not dare! I could do nothing but fall to my knees in worship.…”
“Spare me this drivel!” Chemosh snarled. “Perhaps you fooled Takhisis with your show of piety. You do not fool me!”
He walked off, leaving Mina standing in hurt silence. Reaching the door, he paused, then turned around and stalked back.
“Do you know what I think, Mistress?” he said coldly. “I think you took some of those artifacts and you are keeping them for yourself.”
“I would not do such a thing, my lord!” Mina gasped, shocked.
“Or maybe you gave them to Zeboim. You two are such friends—”
“No, my lord!” Mina cried.
He seized hold of her, gripped her tight. Mina flinched in pain.
“Then go back to the Blood Sea Tower! Prove your love for me. Nuitari’s magic cannot stop you. The dragon will let you pass—”
“I cannot go back there, my lord,” Mina said, her voice low and trembling. She shrank in his grasp. “I love you. I would do anything for you. Just … I can’t do that.”
He hurled her from him, flung her back against the stone wall.
“As I thought. You have the artifacts and you want their power for yourself.” Chemosh pointed a finger at her. “I will find them, Mistress! You cannot hide them from me, and when I do …”
He did not finish his threat, but glared at her, his gaze dark and menacing. Then, turning on his heel, he stalked off. He threw open the door with a bang, entered, and slammed it shut behind him.
Mina slid down the wall, too weak to stand. She was drained, bewildered, and confused. Chemosh had been pleased at her description of the wonders she had discovered in the Hall of Sacrilege. His pleasure had quickly waned when she spoke of her reverence and her awe.
“Never mind that. What wonders of mine did you bring out with you?” he had demanded.
“Nothing, my lord,” Mina had faltered. “How could I dare touch anything?”
He had risen from their bed and stalked out and he had not come back.
Now he believed that she was lying to him, hiding things from him. Worse, he was jealous of Zeboim, who had done all she could to foster his jealousy, though Mina was not aware of that.
“Forgive me for not bringing this charming young human back to you immediately,” Zeboim had said to Chemosh, upon their return. “We took a little side trip. I wanted her to meet my monk. You remember him—Rhys Mason? You traded him to me for Krell. It proved a most interesting experience.”
Chemosh would have thrown himself into the arms of Chaos before he would have given Zeboim the satisfaction of asking her what had occurred. He had asked Mina about the monk, but she had been vague and evasive, arousing his suspicions further.
Mina had not wanted to talk about that fleeting