Mistress of the Night (14 page)

Feena's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Mother Dhauna is going mad, Feena. We all know that. After tonight, I don't think we can deny it any longer."

"She's not mad," Feena replied.

"Then what do you call it?" Velsinore asked. "Tonight,

a seizure. Yesterday she hit you in the courtyard." "She didn't mean it."

"But she did hit you. Half the temple saw it," said Velsinore, her face drawing tight. "She's been acting erratically for the last month. Julith has been trying to hide it, but she can't hide everything. Dhauna spends all her time now in her chambers or in the archives. When we do see her, she stares at us like we're up to something. She's paranoid, Feena."

"Maybe she has something to be paranoid about," Feena snapped. "Julith told me you—both of you—were pushing her to step aside."

"She should have stepped aside," growled Mifano. "To me or to Velsinore. Instead...."

He left his words hanging. Feena sucked in her breath.

"Instead she appointed a rough, back-country werewolf as her successor," she finished for him.

"If that isn't a sign of her madness, I don't know what is," Velsinore spat.

Feena ground her teeth.

"Dhauna isn't mad," she repeated.

"Explain her actions then!"

She had promised Dhauna not to tell anyone about the dreams. Feena hung her head.

Velsinore pursed her lips and muttered, "I thought so."

Mifano cleared his throat and said, "Feena, you should know that we've sent to the House of the Moon in Waterdeep for advice. If the high priestess there agrees with us, we'll seek out two others—and Dhauna Myritar will be forced to step aside." He met her eyes. "When she is, her recent decisions will also be questioned."

"And I'll be forced aside as well," said Feena.

"You keep saying you don't want this," Velsinore said. "The night of the full moon, when you first arrived, you couldn't wait to leave again."

There was a hint of cunning in Velsinore's voice. Feena glanced at her sharply, but it was Mifano who completed her suggestion.

"You want to get back to your village, don't you?" he said. "Your loyalty to Mother Dhauna does you credit, but you have to see that she's not herself anymore. You're suffering just like us." He leaned forward. "If you speak out, it will be easier to bring her down gracefully and for you to return home with dignity."

"You want me to betray her?" Feena snarled through clenched teeth.

Mifano waved his hands, palms down.

"No," he said. "We'd never ask that. But you need to take another look at the situation. Dhauna Myritar might truly believe that she's all right, but she can't go on like this. Neither can we. Neither can you." He sat back and added, "We've had nothing but chaos since you returned." —-

"You know as well as we do that you're not meant to be a High Moonmistress," added Velsinore.

Maybe Velsinore was trying to be soothing as well. Maybe she had meant the words as an expression of sympathy for Feena's situation. They didn't come out that way. Feena whirled on her.

"Is that what you really think, Velsinore? Is it?" She glared at Mifano and asked, "What about you?"

Neither silver-haired priest nor tall priestess said anything.

"So," hissed Feena after a moment. She stepped back away from the table and spat on the floor. "All right then. Velsinore, you can run the temple and keep the numbers in your accounts. Mifano, you can make nice with the other priests of Yhaunn and carry on your petty seductions in pursuit of donations. I'll be standing by Dhauna when she needs me most."

She turned and flung open the door.

"Feena!" Mifano called.

Feena spun around and snapped her teeth at him.

He jerked away, color draining out of his face. Velsinore flinched and reached for her holy symbol.

Feena could feel the wolf pacing within her. When she looked down at her hands, they were huge and hairy, nails

halfway to changing into claws. Her face... she could feel her nose and mouth pushing forward into a muzzle, her skin itching with a fine layer of fur. She bared long teeth at Mifano and Velsinore.

"Am I not blessed of Selune?* she growled awkwardly.

She pushed the wolf away, drawing back her anger, and stalked out of the room as a woman.

ŤS> ------<§>-

Julith was in Dhauna's sitting room, trying to restore the scattered books and scrolls to some kind of order. She looked up as Feena strode in. Like Velsinore and Mifano, she flinched back, but Feena could tell it was only from the violence of her expression.

"Feena," she asked, "what happened?"

"I had another talk with Mifano and Velsinore," Feena explained as she walked to the window and looked out over the courtyard. High overhead, the moon was fading toward a crescent. Feena raised her chin. "I need your help, Julith. You know things about Moonshadow Hall, about Yhaunn. What you did yesterday, coaching me into intimidating Colle and Manas...."

She turned back to the room. Julith was staring at her, an unraveled scroll clutched in her arms and a puzzled look on her face.

"Could you do it again?" Feena asked. "Could you show me how to be a proper high priestess?"

The Stiltways seemed especially lively that night-blazing with light and color, roaring with noise, and fiery with excitement. Or maybe, Keph thought, it was all just him.

Real or imagined, the night felt good around him.

The elation of the ceremony, of drawing on Shar's power and channeling it into magic, still surged inside him. It felt like the night was a wave, carrying him along,

or a great dark heart, driving his pulse. It felt as if there was nothing he couldn't do. He was invulnerable!

Keph swung his arms around the shoulders of Talisk and Starne, two of the Sharrans Jarull had first introduced him to. A third, Baret, swaggered along behind them. A few days before, the cultists' names had slid right out of Keph's head—they were Jarull's friends, not his. Since the ceremony, though, it seemed as if he'd known the three forever and they were his friends, too. They were close in age to Jarull and him, and moved in similar circles. Keph wondered if he'd seen them before at parties or at the Sky's Mantle. Why had they never met before?

Maybe because Strasus had kept him too tightly under his thumb?

That wasn't going to happen again. Hail to the Mistress of the Night, he thought.

"Will it be the Mantle or Cutter's Dip, boys?" he shouted over the noise of the street.

"Mantle!" roared Starne.

"Cutter's Dip!" yelled Talisk.

Keph twisted to look back at Baret.

"Mantle!" said the third man.

"Mantle it is!" Keph replied.

He planted his feet and hauled Talisk around so they all turned a corner toward a staircase that led to the highest level of the Stiltways.

Just coming down the staircase were Lyraene and her friends.

She hadn't seen them.

An idea burst into Keph's head. He leaped back, dragging Talisk and Starne with him. Baret only barely managed to jump away from the tangle of cursing bodies.

"Dark!" he spat. "What are you doing, Keph?"

Keph pulled himself free. "There's going to be a half-elf woman coming around the corner in a moment," he hissed. "You three scatter, but follow my lead." He clenched his fist. "I want to give Shar proper homage on the night of my initiation."

The three man glanced at each other then ducked away. Keph ground his teeth together and stepped around the corner.

Lyraene was only steps away. Her hand darted to her sword at his sudden appearance—and stayed there when she recognized him.

"Keph!" she snarled.

"Did you miss me, Lyraene?" Keph asked. He kept his hand close to Quick, but not on her hilt. Lyraene's friends had their eyes on him, but the half-elf s gaze was darting around suspiciously. "Looking for Jarull?" he asked her. "Don't waste your time. He isn't here."

"That's what I thought last time," she grunted. She focused on him again. "We've got unfinished business."

"Just what I was thinking." He flicked the fingers of his left hand, gesturing her to him. "You and me. You know about Quick. I know about your tricks. What do you think—a duel?"

He could tell that she was considering it, trying to guess if he was hiding something.

"Bring your friends if you're worried," he suggested.

There were four of them—two men and two women. Talisk, Baret, and Starne would be able to handle them if they tried anything.

Lyraene's eyes narrowed, but she nodded and said, "Where?"

"Fanter's swaybridge," Keph said.

Her eyes narrowed even more, but then relaxed. "Now?"

Keph spread his arms wide and said, "There's no better time."

He spun around, boldly presenting his back to her, and started walking.

Fanter's was a tailor shop out near the edge of the Stiltways and up on the fourth level, a quiet and respectable area. Relatively few people went that way after dark. The swaybridge was a railed platform suspended from beams above and tied off to walkways at either end. No strangers would interrupt them and no allies could interfere

without being spotted on the empty bridge. If either of them tried to run, there would be no escape in two directions. It was a long way down to the street from the sides of the bridge. Fanter's had also spent good coin having spells of light cast on the posts of the bridge—they burned with a cold, eternal flame. Keph and Lyraene would have good lighting for their fight, but anyone watching would be blind to whatever happened in the deeper shadows around them.

As Keph stepped onto the swaybridge, Baret peered out quickly from a hiding spot near its far end. His hand flashed in the flickering, magical firelight—two fingers, pointing back the way Keph had come. Talisk and Starne would be hiding behind Lyraene and her friends. Keph gave no reaction, but just walked out to the middle of the bridge and turned. A moment later, Lyraene stepped onto the bridge as well.

A warm wind blowing through the canyon of the Stiltways stirred her blond hair. She drew her sword.

"Since you have a magic sword," she said, "I hope you don't mind if I even the odds a little."

She spoke a word and gestured with one hand. With her other, she stabbed the rapier up into the air. A pure, ringing note shimmered in the night as she cast the spell. The metal of the sword seemed to ripple faintly.

Keph smiled. "You're full of surprises, aren't you? Don't use up all your magic, though. You may need some later." He drew Quick and said, "Storm's lash!"

Lightning crackled up the blade and quickly subsided. Lyraene snorted as she walked out to meet him.

"I could just knock that out of your hand again," she said.

"You can try."

He held Quick up in a salute. Lyraene returned the gesture—then lunged.

Keph had been expecting it. He dodged back, then flicked Quick in a fast cut across her torso. Lyraene arched away from it, but only barely, and smacked her back against the railings of the bridge. The platform

shook with the impact, but swayed no more than a couple of inches. The ties at the ends held it firmly. Lyraene rolled off the railings, turning to meet him again. Her eyes narrowed.

"Nice try," she spat.

She swung her sword. He parried.

Their weapons met with a shriek. Blue sparks spat off of Quick's blade. The magic in the rapier guided his hand as he pushed Lyraene's sword to the side and tried to thrust inside her guard while she was out of line. The half-elf was faster though. Her sword came back up and caught Quick. Brushing the rapier aside, Lyraene thrust at him.

Keph gave ground and surged back. Lyraene thrust and retreated. With each blow and step, the swaybridge shimmied.

When Lyraene turned to avoid a blow, he slid past her and threw an elbow into her stomach, then sprinted for the end of the bridge. Lyraene's cronies shouted in surprise and derision.

If they thought he was giving up the fight, they were going to be disappointed. At the end of the bridge, he reached down and slashed Quick at the thick ropes tying off the platform. Lightning crackled with the blow. The ropes parted.

The end of the bridge swung free.

Keph whirled back to Lyraene. She was clutching the rail with her free hand but the shock on her face was -already fading into an angry growl.

"I hope your balance is as good as you think it is!" she yelled.

Lyraene let go of the rail and charged straight along the swaying bridge.

Keph met her with a charge of his own, catching her blow on Quick Sparks showered down on them. Keph leaned against Lyraene, trying to force her back, but she was stronger than she looked She heaved up, forcing their locked weapons away and bringing their bodies closer together. For a moment, Keph could feel her breath on his face.

Her weight shifted as she raised a foot to kick him or stomp on his leg.

Keph stopped straining against her and folded backward, twisting with her weight as he fell. Lyraene gasped and stumbled, falling past him to hit the wood of the platform. She squirmed around, trying to raise her sword above herself in defense, but as soon as she let him go Keph was sprinting again—to the other end of the bridge.

He swung Quick and lightning crackled again. The stink of burning rope puffed into the night wind. The whole bridge shook and swung.

"You crazy bastard!" yelled Lyraene.

Keph spun around. The half-elf was kneeling. She thrust her free hand at him and shouted a word of magic.

A shimmering bolt streaked from her hand. Out of instinct, he raised Quick, but it was no good. Magic blasted through his body and left him gasping and staggering. His free hand found a rail and he grabbed it for support. Bright spots of pain danced in his vision. He could see Lyraene, though. She was up stalking toward him, sword out and ready.

Throwing his arm around the rail, he flung the weight of his body backward.

Ropes creaked and groaned as the platform swung forward. Lyraene stumbled with the motion—then staggered and fell as the end of the bridge slammed hard against the walkway that had once anchored it. Her sword flew out of her grasp and slid across the wood.