At the Gates of Darkness (5 page)

She looked up to see the man named on the list, a Prior of the Order, Brother Willoby. He was a round-faced, stocky man with a constantly worried expression. He said, “Sister? May I be of service?”

She sat down in Creegan’s chair and said, “I will let you know, brother.”

“I will be outside if you need me,” he answered. The clerical branch of the Order were administrators. Unlike the Knights, they worked within the temples, as lay priests, but they were not properly of the clerical calling. These were men and women who had the calling, but not the strength of arm to serve in the field. Like most of the Knights, Sandreena hardly gave the priors a moment’s thought, but she suspected she might come to appreciate them when she looked at the rest of the documents beside the desk that would require her attention.

She took the list of names and folded it up. She would burn it later. She already had memorized the names.

Then she opened the report given her by the nameless Kingdom noble and read it. She put it down, picked it up, and read it a second time.

Standing up, she shouted, “Willoby!”

Within a moment, the cleric appeared, asking, “Yes, sister?”

“Three things. First, do I have a second-in-command?”

The question seemed to startle him for a moment, as she was the Father-Bishop’s
adiuvare.
“Why, no,” he said, “I mean, you are the second-in-command, but with the Father-Bishop gone, you are…I mean, no, there’s no one designated as such.”

“Very well,” she replied. “You are my
adiuvare,
as of now.”

He blinked, then said, “I guess that’s all right.”

“As I am currently the highest-ranking member of the order west of Malac’s Cross, of course it’s all right.”

He seemed to take this in stride as she stood up and put the report under her tunic. “Next, have my horse made ready with a week’s provisions.”

“Your horse?” asked the clerk.

“Yes,” said Sandreena. “I need to depart on a mission today.”

“But who…?” he began, then saw her looking at him. “Me?”

“You’re in charge until I get back,” she said.

He was almost speechless, but nodded and said, “I’ll have your horse made ready, sister.”

She waited until he was gone then indulged herself in a low growl of frustration. “You bastard,” she said softly with Creegan in mind. “That kiss…” If she had mistaken it for some sort of signal of passion withheld over the years, reading the report and thinking of what Creegan had said rid her of that notion. It was a kiss of apology. Yes, she thought, he wouldn’t tell me what he would do if he was staying, because she was now doing exactly what he would do, which was send her out on a mission that would most likely get her killed.

Swearing at the curse in her life that was men, she moved out of his office and headed to the armory to see if her newfound rank would get her better armor and weapons.

P
ug held up his hand.

The two black-armored guardsmen at the door to the ancient temple were startled to see the three men appear apparently out of a grey void that had not been there moments before. Pug said, “We’re here to see the High Priest.”

Amirantha looked up at the sky and saw a dark, starry night, clear and dry. “We’re somewhere to the east, aren’t we?”

Jim said, “Rillanon. This is the temple of Lims-Kragma.”

Amirantha said, “That makes sense.”

No one on the world of Midkemia would have more knowledge of all aspects of death than the
High Priest of the Goddess of Death. The two guards still appeared unsettled by the sudden arrival, but their duty was to defend the portal only if obvious attack was under way—most of the time they were merely there to see that those coming to offer prayers for the departed remained orderly. One finally indicated with a wave of his hand that they were free to enter.

They passed through a large antechamber, replete with frescoes of the Death Goddess showing her as a warm, welcoming figure who was the eventual judge of every mortal being. That led them into the vast hall that was the main cathedral of the Goddess. Along both side walls, tiered benches were erected for contemplation and prayer by the faithful, while along the back wall two rows of shelves held hundreds of votive candles, most of which were alight. A burning flame to light the way of a loved one into Lims-Kragma’s halls.

Pug took a moment to regard the heroic statue, some twelve feet high, of the Goddess, holding out one hand in a welcoming gesture, and in the other holding a silver net. The implication was obvious: no one escaped the drawer of nets, but she welcomed all equally. Pug found the image somewhat ironic, as he had been very adept at avoiding her welcome in the past, though the bargain he made with her was taking its toll on his mind and heart.

Three priests were praying before the statue, while off to one side several petitioners to the Goddess’s mercy for a recently departed loved one lit candles and offered prayers. One of the priests saw the three men approaching with purpose and rose to greet them.

“Pug,” he said in a neutral tone, inclining his head in a less than warm welcome. “What brings you here?”

“I need to speak with High Priest Marluke,” said Pug. “The matter is most urgent.”

“It always is, isn’t it?” said the priest dryly. “Yet I am
certain the Holy Father will consider it urgent, as well. Please, follow me.”

He led them past the statue, to a small door between the base of the edifice and the first row of burning candles and opened it. He motioned for them to go through, then followed, closing the door behind.

Down a long hall he led them, into a large room without decoration. The only items in the room were four chairs and a simple wooden table. “I’ll inform the High Priest you are here,” he said.

At that moment, a door opposite the one through which they entered opened, and an elderly man in a simple black robe, different only from Pug’s in that it had a cowl thrown back, entered the room. “He already knows,” he said. “You may leave us,” he instructed the priest. He was tall, though starting to stoop a little with age, slender to the point of gauntness, and his hair was light grey bordering on white. But his dark eyes were alert and keen and his smile engaging.

As the younger man departed, the old prelate held out his hand to Pug and they shook. “As if you could pop into my temple without me knowing it,” he said dryly. Then he said, “Ah, Jim Dasher, or is it Baron James Dasher Jamison today?”

Jim shook his hand as well and said, “Today it’s Jim.”

“And who is this?” asked the old man, waving the three of them to sit.

“Amirantha, Warlock of the Satumbria,” said Pug.

The High Priest’s eyebrows rose. “A Warlock!” He sat as soon as the others had taken seats. “I’ve sent for wine and food, if you’re hungry.”

Jim nodded approval.

Looking at Amirantha, the High Priest said, “Leave off the serious discussion until my servant has come and left. Until then…I thought the Satumbria obliterated.”

“All but me,” said Amirantha without emotion. “We were always a small nation—just a loose confederation of villages, really, scattered around the northern grasslands of Novindus. The Emerald Queen’s army ended our existence.”

“Ah,” said the High Priest as his servant entered. All four men remained silent as food and wine were served, then the servant withdrew.

The High Priest looked at Pug and said, “No matter how many years pass, you look no different.” He turned to Amirantha and said, “When I first met our friend here, I was a young priest, just ordained, working in the temple at Krondor. This fellow had several encounters with the High Priestess serving there.” He looked regretful. “A wonderful woman, really, if you got to know her. She was my mentor and it’s because of her I now hold this impossible office that was thrust upon me.”

He looked again at Amirantha. “I suspect years after I’ve gone to meet Our Lady, he will still look as he does.”

Amirantha only nodded politely.

Then the old man’s manner changed. “Now, enough of reminiscence. What brings you here at this late hour?”

Pug said, “I am not sure, myself. Amirantha, Jim?”

The Warlock said to Jim, “You begin.”

Jim had just bitten off a large hunk of bread and cheese, and was forced to wash it down with red wine, and after almost choking a bit he said, “Very well.” He related his entire experience out in the Jal-Pur desert, describing the scene of slaughter and self-sacrifice as best he could. Given his years of training in observing detail, the narrative lasted almost a half hour.

None of the others spoke until he was finished. Pug said, “That is horrible, indeed.” He looked at Amirantha and said, “You demanded we have an expert in death. Here he sits. Now, what in all this troubles you, that we are not seeing?”

Amirantha had been preparing for this question since he had first heard Jim’s account. “Nothing that Jim observed makes sense. I will explain, but first let me ask you this, Holy Father: how much demon lore do you understand?”

“Little, truth to tell,” answered the old man. “Our concerns here are in preparing the faithful for their eventual journey to Our Lady. We are put upon this world to let a fragile humanity understand that this life is but part of a much more profound journey, and that by living a just and honorable existence, when they meet Our Mistress she will place them upon a proper path toward ultimate enlightenment. Beyond that, our knowledge is much like anyone else’s, we gather information where we may, share what we know with others”—he indicated Pug with an inclination of his head—“and have in turn been given the benefit of their wisdom.” He laughed. “Besides, I was told to work with Pug.”

Amirantha looked surprised. “Told to? By whom?”

“By Our Lady herself,” said the old priest. “It is rare to have a visitation by the Goddess, but it does occur. Usually it’s a revelation for the faithful and is proclaimed throughout the land, but in this case I was told to help Pug in whatever way I could and to keep my mouth shut.” He laughed. “I may be the only High Priest or Priestess in the history of the temple to have a personal revelation and be unable to boast of it.”

Amirantha said, “Then to understand what I must tell you, I shall have to tell you a story I have already shared with Pug and Jim.”

Amirantha detailed his childhood, describing his existence on the fringes of Satumbria society, his mother’s role as “witch” and her being tolerated by the villagers because of her skill with potions, herbs, and unguents. “She was also very beautiful; as a result, she bore three children by three fathers, none of whom would claim us.”

He went on to contrast his brothers and himself, ex
plaining how the eldest, named Sidi, had murdered their mother for the sheer pleasure of it. Of his next eldest, Belasco, he painted a portrait of a man obsessed with surpassing his brothers in any endeavor, one given to rages at the thought of being bested, and someone who had, for reasons Amirantha only vaguely understood, been trying to kill his younger brother for nearly fifty years.

“I can’t even begin to guess which slight, real or imagined, set Belasco off on his quest to see me dead, but it hardly matters.” He paused to sip some wine as his throat was dry.

The High Priest observed, “An interesting family, certainly, but I’m failing to see how any of this has to do with what Jim reported to us.”

“I’m getting there, Holy Father,” said Amirantha. “I recount my history so you’ll fully understand what I believe is behind that exercise in murder.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “My eldest brother Sidi—whom you may also know as Leso Varen—was insane by any measure. He was mad when he was a child and only got more so as he grew. By the time he killed our mother he was a remorseless monster with no sense of humanity. His obsession was death magic.”

The old priest nodded. “I recognize the name Leso Varen, and know he was a necromancer of prodigious art and from all reports, a font of evil.”

“Whatever you read would not do the man justice,” said Amirantha as Pug nodded agreement. “If there ever existed a shred of humanity in his being, it was extinguished long before he became a player in this monstrous game we find ourselves in.

“But Belasco is of another stripe; he is a man consumed by envy and rage, and jealous of any feat or skill achieved by my brother or myself. But unlike either of us, he has his own skills and talents, though he often leaves them aside to emulate our achievements. His dabbling in necromancy or
demon lore, that I can see. But anything as murderous as the scene Jim described is…it’s not something he would normally be a party to. Neither is serving a demon, no matter how powerful.”

“Why?” asked Pug.

Sipping his wine again, Amirantha said, “Because Belasco would choose death before he would willingly serve anyone or anything.”

“There’s more,” asked the High Priest, though it wasn’t a question.

“Belasco also would not be a user of this sort of death magic. Here’s the conundrum: whatever else death magic is good for, it’s almost of no use whatever to those of us who are trafficking with demons.”

Pug looked suddenly very interested, as if he wished to say something or ask a question, but instead said, “Go on.”

“Holy Father,” asked Amirantha, “what use is death magic?”

Pug realized the question wasn’t rhetorical, but rather Amirantha asking a question to clarify a point he was about to make.

“It’s an abomination,” said the prelate. “Death magic, necromancy, are misnomers, for really what it becomes is the foulest form of life magic. At the moment of death, that which we call life leaves the empty shell of our bodies—it is what some call the
anima,
others call soul—and that energy is the fundamental core of being. The body is transitory and will fail, but the life which leaves it is eternal”—he held up a finger for emphasis—“unless something prevents that energy from translating to Our Mistress’s hall.”

Amirantha appeared impatient. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the heart of the question is, what can you do with that energy if you trap it, bind it, intercept it somehow?”

The High Priest sat silently for a moment, then said, “An excellent question; the answer is beyond my knowledge.

“What little we know of necromancy is due to our having spared no effort to stamp it out; it’s an abomination against the nature of Our Mistress to prevent a soul from returning to her for judgment.” He turned in his chair and shouted, “Gregori!”

A moment later his servant appeared, and he said, “Ask Sister Makela to join us, please.”

The servant bowed, and the High Priest said, “The sister is our Archive Keeper. If she doesn’t know of something, she knows where to look to find out about it.”

“I have already visited the Ishapian Abbey at That Which Was Sarth.”

The old prelate smiled and shook his head. “The Ishapians are a noble order, and we venerate them, but despite their authority and knowledge, they tend to vanity from time to time. Their library is prodigious but hardly exhaustive. There are things that have not found their way into their library.”

“But have into yours?” observed Jim.

Smiling even more broadly, the High Priest said, “We all keep our prerogatives. What we find is ours unless we wish to share with others.” Then his mood turned somber. “And much of the knowledge we do not share is of the sort about which you inquire; some things are best kept secret or at least closely guarded by those who understand them best.” He turned to Amirantha. “While we are waiting, I believe you had other points to make?”

“You are perceptive, Holy Father. Beyond my ignorance of the nature and purpose of this death magic, or as you pointed out, the stolen life force, I have never in my study of the demon realm found any connection.”

Pug said, “A thought I’ve been holding for a few moments is there is something from my past that should be mentioned.” He looked at the three other men and said, “Back when the Emerald Queen’s host sailed across the ocean from Novindus and invaded the Kingdom of the Isles, their leader,
the Emerald Queen, had been replaced by a seeming of her, a false guise worn by a demon named Jakan.”

Amirantha tilted his head slightly, as if pondering this.

“What is not known to any but a few of us who were there—” He hesitated a moment, remembering that among those who had been present at the events he was about to describe was his wife, Miranda, and he felt a pang. “I was about to say, this was not about simple conquest, but rather a massive assault to reach the city of Sethanon.”

Jim’s brow furrowed. “Why? Sethanon had been abandoned since the end of the Great Uprising. There was nothing there.”

Pug said, “Even your Kingdom annals were not privy to what took place below the city after the sacking of Krondor and the final victory at the Battle of Nightmare Ridge.”

Pug paused, gathering his thoughts. Then he said, “During the Chaos Wars, the Dragon Lords fashioned a mighty artifact that was called the Lifestone. I never had the opportunity to fully study it, as it was deemed so dangerous we left it—” He considered the wisdom of revealing the true whereabouts of the Oracle of Aal, and decided not to burden his companions at the table with that information. “It was hidden in a deep cavern below the city.” He looked at the High Priest and said, “I believe the Lifestone was constructed from captured life elements, as you have described.”