Mistress of the Night - Don Bassingthwaite [100]
Keph stopped, his feet heavy, his heart in his throat. "You're… you're letting me go?"
"If I wanted to harm you, I could do it easily enough." She glanced back at him and said, "Come with me unless you want to stand in the dark."
It wasn't an answer to his question, but he hesitated, then followed her.
"You and Jarull," he said, "you've been manipulating me."
"More or less," Variance replied. On the far side of the temple, she turned down a curving tunnel. "It's regrettable that you fell in with the Selunites. I'd be curious to know how that happened."
"It was coincidence."
Variance said, "You'll find there's no coincidence where gods take a hand, Keph."
"Maybe… maybe Selune is giving me a chance to redeem myself."
"Or perhaps Shar chose to show me that your faith was weak." She paused and turned to look at him. Her face was placid, but cold. "The Mistress of the Night could have given you many rewards, Keph. I spoke no lie when I said you had the potential to become one of Shar's priests. It would have been best for both of us if your faith had been stronger-or if your will had been weaker."
"It's a good thing Shar teaches you loss then, isn't it?" Keph said.
"Shar teaches the anticipation of loss," answered Variance. "Even if I prefer to expect that my plans will succeed, I prepare for the possibility of failure."
She raised the candle. Stone walls shone with slowly trickling water and slick mineral deposits-then ended abruptly in darkness. Just beyond Variance's reach lay a shadow that seemed to consume the candle's feeble glow, resisting its light. Variance held out her hand and spoke a prayer under her breath. Like mist before a wind, the shadow parted.
Keph stared.
Chained like a dog to the stone floor, Jarull jerked back from the sudden light, covering his eyes and howling in agony-then clapping his hands to his ears as if the sound of his own voice were painful. Howls dropped into moans and the big man swung his head back and forth like an animal driven to madness.
With the parting of the shadow, the stench of excrement filled the tunnel as well. The pants that Jarull wore were stained and horribly crusted. His skin was pale, his tall frame gaunt, and his hair, a tangled nest. The fingers that cupped his ears were torn and bloody. When his open mouth swung into the light, Keph could see that his tongue was raw and red as well. The rock walls within reach of the chain had been rubbed clean of mineral deposits. Jarull had been licking the stone for water.
–It was as if his friend had been chained there for days- for tendays. But that wasn't possible. He'd seen Jarull practically every day-
But Jarull's mother hadn't. Wasn't that what Strasus had said? And Strasus and Dagnalla hadn't been able to locate Jarull with magic.
The chained man wore no amethyst ring. Keph raised his head and stared at Variance. The dark priestess had her hands crossed, but the purple gem of her ring winked between her fingers. Keph clenched his teeth.
"How long has he been here?" he asked.
"Only a little more than two tendays," said Variance. She might have been discussing apples in a barrel for all the emotion in her voice. "But it probably seems much longer to him. The Lady of Loss is a harsh jailer."
"Then it was you all along. You took his place to draw me into the cult."
Variance just turned away and began walking back to the temple. Keph swung between her and Jarull. As the candlelight faded, the chained man's moans eased. His mad swinging turned into a gentle rocking. Keph took a step toward him, reaching out his hand.
"Jarull…"
His friend looked up. Bruised eyes widened-and he shrieked, scrambling away to press himself frantically against the wall.
Variance's voice floated back down the tunnel, "Come away from him, Keph."
Keph whirled toward her. "What have you done to him?"
"I haven't done anything. Come away."
The candlelight moved on. Clenching his