Fistandantilus Reborn - Douglas Niles [34]
The final supplicant-positioned at the end of the line by Warden Thilt, who knew his master’s tastes-was a young woman of unblemished skin, golden hair, and clear blue eyes. He had her maintain her kneeling posture for a little longer than was necessary and took great pleasure in her smooth voice as she stared into the depths of the bloodstone and reverently chanted the vows.
“You are assigned to the Temple Maidens,” Kelryn declared, his voice already thickening with desire. “Pass through the white door. You will find a garden there, wine and fruit as well. Sample the food and drink as you wish. Then remove your robe and wait for me.”
“Yes, Master,” she intoned, and the high priest pulled away the bloodstone so those blue eyes would rise to regard him. He nearly fell into them, so pure was their color and so willing, so devoted, their expression.
This one really was a beauty, he thought, and he made a private vow that he would take his time with her. Too many times in recent years he had found a treasure like this, only to ruin her with his uncontrolled passion on their first encounter. Afterward, such tarnished beauties were useful only to the Faithguards. Sometimes, in fact, an unfortunate girl had been so frightened and disillusioned by her first encounter with the high priest that he had been forced to sacrifice her in the temple dungeons. Not that such executions were not without their own form of pleasure, but Kelryn Darewind was a pragmatic man and knew that his recruits were always more useful to him alive then dead.
Yes, he repeated silently, I will be patient with this one, that she may please me for a long time to come.
The woman walked to the white door, and Kelryn stared hungrily, watching the smooth curves of her body shifting gracefully beneath the gauzy cotton of her robe. He thought momentarily of dispensing with the rest of the day’s business, but quickly he discarded that notion. He could be patient, and there were important matters of the church that needed his attention.
He flopped back into his chair, reflecting that it had not always been so.
Had it actually been fifty years ago that he first arrived in this rich, lively, and utterly corrupt city? Kelryn knew it had, though none who saw him would have guessed his age to be much more than three decades. Indeed, he knew he looked very much the same as he did when he had ridden out of Tarsis so many years ago.
Now, however, when he thought back to those days, it seemed that he was recalling an experience from a different life. His hand closed around the stone that pulsed within his fingers, and he knew he owed a great transformation in his own life to his chance encounter with the dwarf, now a half century dead, on the Pax Tharkas road.
Except that he did not believe, had not even believed then, that it was really a chance encounter. It was the stone-or, more accurately, the spirit that throbbed within the stone-that had brought Cantor Blacksword into his path, that had summoned Kelryn up the steep gully to the Theiwar’s smoldering fire.
The bloodstone had known that the raving dwarf had served his purpose. A pariah to his own kind, terrified and suspicious of everyone else, Cantor had been unable to carry the powerful artifact into the centers of life and vitality that it craved. Kelryn Darewind, on the other hand, with his easy social grace, his handsome smile, and his flowing, charismatic speech, had been a much better choice.
When the man first held the stone, he had felt its compelling power; even more, he sensed that the artifact was appealing to him personally.
Then, when he had replied, had offered his acquiescence-for a price-he understood that the gem had respected Kelryn’s strength. The stone needed the man, and the man needed the stone. Together they had helped each other for many years.
And Kelryn Darewind, for his part, had no complaints as he proclaimed himself a high priest. He knew he was a tool for the power within the stone, but he had been quick to grasp