Mistress of the Night - Don Bassingthwaite [40]
Against the big windows of Dhauna Myritar's sitting room, a silhouette reeled.
Feena reacted on instinct alone, charging across the courtyard and through the cloisters, back into the temple and up the ramp to the High Moonmistress's quarters. The screams were even louder inside, echoing through the halls. Every priestess and priest she passed seemed stunned to silence.
"Dhauna!" Feena shouted as she ran. "Julith!"
"Here!" Julith shouted back.
The door of Dhauna's chamber had been flung open. Julith's call came from inside. Feena caught herself at the door and choked on her breath.
On the floor of the sitting room, Julith wrestled with Dhauna, trying to pin her down. The old woman was thrashing like a demon. Her face contorted and she screamed as if all the hordes of the Abyss were parading before her. Books and scrolls were scattered everywhere.
"Help me!" Julith yelled.
Feena leaped into the room, grabbing for Dhauna's flailing arms. One she caught, the other she missed. Dhauna's fingernails scratched a trail across her cheek.
"Moonmaiden's grace!" Feena spat. She caught hold of both of Dhauna's hands and held them firm. "Dhauna!" she shouted at the High Moonmistress. "Mother Dhauna… calm down…"
Dhauna fixed her with burning eyes. "Too late!" she howled. 'Too late-"
Her voice soared up into a renewed shriek. Feena glanced at Julith, then at the door. Crowded into the doorframe, Velsinore and Mifano stared back at her.
–– -- ____________________ --
Cultists squeezed around Keph, slapping his shoulders and shaking his hand for all the world as if he had just won some contest at a Midsummer fair.
A few slipped back their cowls to reveal men and women he had already met through Jarull. Keph couldn't recall any of their names. They seemed completely wiped from his mind. The best response he could manage was a stunned smile and a slow nod. His heart was still racing. He clutched the disk of Shar, its edge hard against his palm.
Fuel was added to the smoldering braziers and they flared up with new light, pushing back the darkness just a bit more. With a start, Keph realized where they were- the temple of Shar lay in the tunnels that laced the rocky cliffs surrounding Yhaunn. At an intersection of tunnels, most likely. Firelight glimmered on a number of irregular arches of rock, though it didn't penetrate the shadows beyond. There was still no sign of the ceiling overhead.
Nor was there any sign of Jarull.
Bolan had turned away from him. The other cultists were beginning to as well, breaking off into their own little groups like merchants at a party. One cultist, however, brought him a basin of water and a sponge. His eyes flickered distastefully over the torn remains of Keph's vomit-soaked, wine-stained shirt. The first emotion to penetrate Keph's fogged mind was embarrassment. The symbol of Shar was strung on a black cord-he looped it around his neck, took the basin, and retreated to wash himself.
The water was blessedly cool against his face. When he wiped it away, however, he realized just how badly he stank.
"Dark," he muttered.
"In the grand temples of Shar," whispered a soft voice, "the initiation of a new devotee isn't so primitive."
Keph started and looked up. Variance stood beside him. He flushed and took a step away from her.
"F-forgive me…" he stuttered but the strange woman shook her head.
"No need. I've seen enough of Bolan's initiations now to be used to the effects."
She held out a fresh shirt-and Quick. Keph's eyes widened. He took both gratefully.
"Thank you," he said.
As he took Quick, he saw a flash of purple on Variance's hand. A ring of blackened silver set with an amethyst. Variance noticed him looking and nodded.
"You're thinking how like Jarull's this ring is," she said. She smiled slightly. "I gave his to him. He's told me about you, Keph."
Keph managed a small bow. "And me