Lady of Poison_ The Priests - Bruce R. Cordell [66]
Despite her special nature, she was still relieved to avoid that touch. She said, "The cleric and his group have had their successes, but their path seems clear. They are coming here. No matter their power, they can't hope to stand against you, Talona's favored, and your strongest servants, not to mention your… project."
The cloaked figure laughed then. Damanda was inured to unpleasantness, but she still had to resist stopping up her ears to keep that sound out.
Still chuckling, the Rotting Man said, "Your fellows had but one task-bring the Child of Light to me here in the Close. In their incompetence, they not only lost their lives, but they also impeded the cleric, who had already decided to bring that which I seek directly to me in his own misjudged initiative."
Damanda said nothing but leaned closer to indicate her interest.
"You wonder how I know all this? There is a spy in the Nentyarch's Court. Yes, it's true. He has served our cause before with bits of information channeled through Anammelech, but he took an audacious step. He revealed himself. In a bid to leapfrog his way into Anammelech's heart and good graces, Fallon has plucked the Child of Light from the cleric and even now seeks to deliver the Child directly to me."
"Fallon? Who's he?"
"One of the Nentyarch's hunters. Anammelech turned him. This Nentyar hunter is in our pocket. Anammelech has kept me appraised of Fallon's reports and progress."
Damanda frowned, realizing her brother blightlord had accomplishments in some areas greater than her own, another reason to be glad that Anammelech was not around to receive the Rotting Man's accolades.
"Anammelech had a delightful ambush arranged." Some of the joviality left the Talontyr's demeanor. "That ambush seems to have backfired, but I pray that Fallon is still ahead of the cleric and that the traitor elf has the Child of Light with him."
"Does he?" wondered Damanda. "We just 'saw' Anammelech fall, how can we be sure that Fallon is not also dead, and the Child of Light back in the hands of the cleric?"
Her voice was tight. She wondered what force had overtaken her, making her question her master and thereby precipitate harm to herself. The Rotting Man was not one to gainsay without consequence. Of course, most harm could not long impair her, given her supernatural resilience.
The Rotting Man shook with some unnamed palsy but did not strike down Damanda. He turned and walked a few short strides. He stopped before one of the great petrified trees that formed the periphery of the Close.
He said, "Anammelech plans ahead. He equipped his spy with a means to communicate with his paymaster. I can also access that communication link."
The Talontyr began to spew syllables toward the tree, giving voice to a rough and somehow obscenely urgent chant. He ran his slender digits across the gnarled bark, caressing it. The dead wood began to shift and mold itself, soon- enough forming the likeness of a face. Damanda thought the features seemed elven and possibly masculine. Sometimes it was hard to be sure with that androgynous race.
The face spoke, saying in a weak voice, as if relayed from a great distance, "Who's there? Is that you, Anammelech?" Though the face was that of an elf, its texture was that of petrified wood, briefly animate through the workings of the Talontyr's sorcery.
"It is to Anammelech's master you speak," intoned the Talontyr.
The expression on the woody face grew slack with amazement then fear. When it could speak, the face sputtered, "My Lord, I… Where is Anammelech?"
"Anammelech is dead, Fallon. He fell to those who pursue you."
"Marrec and Elowen? I didn't think they had the power to contest a blightlord. Where are they?" squeaked the voice, its spike in tone betraying sudden apprehension.
"I don't know their