Mistress of the Night - Don Bassingthwaite [94]
The wail that tore across the courtyard outside struck her like a blow.
"She's dead! Mother Dhauna is dead!"
Someone had visited the infirmary. For a heartbeat there was silence, then chaos erupted as the news spread Feena could hear shouts and screams from the dormitories, cries and exclamations from the few priestesses who had remained in the temple. She could imagine the confusion amid the heat of the kitchens-the New Moon Beneficence would suddenly become a funeral feast. For a moment, all of her own grief threatened to come crashing back yet again. Memories of Mother Dhauna in better times, wise and gentle before madness claimed her…
Feena squeezed her eyes shut and sagged back against a wall.
"No," she snarled under her breath. "Enough." No more tears. Not now.
She reached up and clenched her hand around Selune's medallion, gripping it so hard that the edges of the holy symbol bit into her flesh.
Bright Lady of Night, she prayed in silent anger, how could you let this happen to someone who loved you?
Her arm tensed. The chain of the medallion strained against her neck. One tug would tear the holy symbol free…
She forced her hand open and let it fall back to her side. Rejecting Selune wouldn't change what had happened. She opened her eyes. Her gaze fell on the white book on Dhauna's desk.
Was that how the New Moon Pact had felt as their sisters and brothers turned on them? Had they questioned Selune, too?
Out in the courtyard, chaos was giving way to order as elder clergy took charge of the situation. Feena couldn't hear running or shouting anymore, but her chance to slip out of Moonshadow Hall unnoticed had passed. Whoever stood sentry at the gate would be alert. She would need to find a place to hide and wait for the right time to make her escape. She forced herself away from the wall and started to turn to the door-then stopped and turned back to the white book.
One good thing had come of Dhauna's madness, hadn't it? The New Moon Pact, condemned by jealousy and lost for centuries, had been rediscovered. Feena lifted her chin, stepped forward, and scooped up the massive tome.
If nothing else, she was going to have time to read.
By our authority in assembly, these are the heretics who shall face Selune's own judgment:
Tyver Thomdrove, called the Peacemaker, of Berdusk.
Niree Swifthands of Elmwood.
Brant Hallower of Candlekeep.
Qualise Domo of Turmish.
Rode of the Farsea Marches (died in capture).
Enshu Venerun ofChondath (died in capture).
By our authority, a bounty is also placed on any servants and close associates of them, and on the wolf called Halftail, companion of Niree Swifthands. They are cast out of Selune's grace in body and in soul. May Selune's face turn away so that their souls walk in darkness until the end of time.
Feena's head jerked. She blinked sleep from her eyes, sat back, and stretched. A night spent walking and running without rest was trying hard to catch up with her and her chosen hiding place wasn't helping. Moonshadow Hall's archives had seemed like an ideal refuge: all but abandoned, no windows to give away the small magical light she conjured, a table and chair at which to read, easy concealment among the tall shelves in case someone should happen to come by…
Then again, there was a reason no one came to the archives, wasn't there? She had to fight against the muffling quiet just to keep herself alert, and with no windows there was also no way of marking the passage of time.
She stared down at the list of the names again-the last members of the New Moon Pact. More than anything else in the great white book, those names called to her. Not that there was much else in it that had more than the faintest ring of truth. The pact had been tried by people who disdained them. Great deeds, hallowed traditions… those hadn't been important in the face of charges of foul heresy.
Selune's priests and priestesses and done more than suppress the New Moon Pact six hundred years ago. They had killed its history. Their