Mistress of the Night

CHAPTER 10

"I've heard back from the various followers of Selune who help us keep watch for Sharran activity around Yhaunn," Julith said.

Feena glanced at her as they paced through the corridors of Moonshadow Hall. "And?" she asked.

"Nothingnot around the Stiltways, not anywhere. If there are Sharrans in the city, they're keeping very, very quiet."

Feena gave the younger priestess a faint smile and said, "I notice that you're not ruling out their presence all together."

"You saw what you saw," Julith said, "and caution never hurts." She returned Feena's glance. "I discovered something else, though. After your encounter, Mifano never even bothered to check with the watchers."

Feena pressed her lips together. "Too sure of his own assessment of the situation, I suspect. Did the watchers have anything to say about…" She grimaced. "Anything else?"

"The Stiltways are humming with stories of werewolves," Julith replied. "The tales have spread a little bit into the city at large, but seem to be mostly dismissed as drunken ravings. No one except High Luck Shoondeep seems to have made any connection to you, though."

"I hope it stays that way," Feena said bitterly.

After her experience at the Cutter's Dip three nights before, she had hastened back to Moonshadow Hall, sticking to Yhaunn's more brightly lit streets. A quick leap over the kitchen wall had brought her back to safety once morebut it hadn't been until she'd collapsed into a chair in Julith's room that the harrowing danger had really hit her. She'd tracked the servants of Malar in Arch Wood, even fought vampires in Selgaunt, but a mob of unarmed drunks had almost brought her down. Feena had given fervent thanks to Selune for her deliveranceeven if it had been at the arrogant hands of Keph Thingoleirand paid serious attention to Julith when she suggested that maybe another approach was needed.

Even if that approach failed to yield results, it was better than risking her furry skin chasing Sharrans that might or might not exist. Besides, with Julith to support her, there was more than enough to keep her busy around Moonshadow Hall.

They approached a door that opened onto the cloisters.

"Ready?" asked Julith.

Feena smoothed the simple pale blue gown that the seamstress had prepared for her and checked the silver web in her hair.

"Ready," she said.

Julith pulled open the door. Feena walked through, passed across the shaded walkway, and stepped out into the golden light of afternoon that flooded the courtyard.

Around Selune's sacred pool, a group of about a dozen people were gathered: representatives of the city's merchants, craft guilds, the Nessarch's office, and the high priests and priestesses of the council of templeseven Colle Shoondeep. Velsinore and Mifano were there as well, Mifano making restrained conversation with various people while Velsinore kept a critical eye on the acolytes who moved among the group, offering chilled wine.

"Thank you all for coming," Feena called.

Conversation stilled and faces turned toward her as she walked across the grass. The acolytes made a silent, graceful exit, except for one who quickly brought wine to Feena and Julith before departing. Feena inclined her head to her guests. They returned the gesturesome more enthusiastically and graciously than others. Colle barely nodded. Mifano's bow was deep but cold and stiff. Velsinore didn't move at all.

Feena ignored the three of them.

"As some of you may know," she said, pronouncing each word as clearly as she had practiced with Julith, "it has become a tradition at Moonshadow Hall to open our doors to the poor of Yhaunn on the night of the new moon in what we call the New Moon Beneficence."

"And a wonderful tradition it is, too!" said Endress Halatar.

Feena nodded in acknowledgement of her praise and said, "It is always popular, and it has won Moonshadow Hall much favor in the less wealthy parts of the city. The New Moon Beneficence was never intended to bring worshipers to Selune, however, only to provide some relief to the poor. We can't help all of them, though. Each new moon, we find ourselves turning people away. That's why I would like to invite you allother temples, the city, merchants, and guildsto share in this act of charity. All of us are wealthy. If we work together one night a month; we would be able to provide for many, many people."

The group reacted in startled silence, glancing among themselves, some with an expression of immediate skepticism, some with cautious interest. Velsinore and Mifano, of course, looked ready to spit fire, but they didn't dare say anythingchallenging their Moonmistress-Designate in front of outsiders would only highlight the division within Moonshadow Hall.. Feena held her breath. The reaction was exactly what Julith had predicted, and if only the guests would react in accordance with the rest of the young priestess's expectations

Colle rose to the occasion. "Preposterous!" he blustered. "The poor will certainly benefit, but once word came out that this was all Moonshadow Hall's idea, how would that make the rest of us look?"

Feena let out her breath. "As you yourself said in our last council, Colle, it's a great shame when temple competes with temple. If the announcement is phrased properly, all Yhauntans will see is the group of us working together for the common good. It will benefit all of us" she nodded to the representatives of the city's civil authorities" Temples, merchants, and guilds."

Colle blinked, his bluster countered, and Feena turned to Endress. Julith had suggested that the old priestess would be the most likely to support the idea. Feena was relieved to see interest sparkling in her eyes.

"High Mistress of Revels?" she asked. "What do you think?"

"You know I love any excuse for a party." Endress chuckled. "Especially one for a good cause." She tilted her head. "But there would be a tremendous amount of organization involved."

"With your help, I don't think it would be difficult." She looked to the high priest of Ilmater, the suffering god who was traditionally the patron of the impoverished. "Sir?" she asked humbly.

He nodded slowly and said, "A burden shared is a burden more easily borne. You have Ilmater's blessing."

"And Deneir's," added the High Scrivener of the Lord of All Glyphs. Feena held back a grin. Julith had said that the two priests, the most conservative members of the council of temples, would agree with each other. Another prediction fulfilled!

"And Waukeen's, as well, Moonmistress." The priest of the goddess of wealth bowed toward Feena. "Generosity is the root of success."

Feena heard Julith let out a little gasp beside her. Waukeen's priest had been among those the priestess had judged would be the most difficult to convince. That he had come around so quickly was almost a miracle! Feena bowed back to him, honoring him with a deeper bow than he had given her.

"Thank you," she replied.

The representatives of the Nessarch, the council of merchants, and the craft guilds were still communicating among themselves with whispers and skeptical glances. The merchants' representative finally looked up and cleared his throat.

"The idea seems to have merit," he said, caution plain in his tone, "but none of us can offer our full approval without consulting our members. And with the new moon only tomorrow night, we couldn't organize meetings in time to give you an answer."

"Of course," said Feena. She couldn't hold back her smile anymore and it spread across her face just as the warmth of triumph spread through her belly. "I didn't expect that you could. That's why I would like to invite you to attend"

"Feena!"

From the window of her sitting room, Dhauna Myri-tar's voice drifted down into the courtyard, piercing and demanding. It didn't sound like the High Moonmistress was frightened or in pain, however. Feena clenched her teeth behind her smile and carried on.

"I would like to invite all of you," she said, extending her arms to encompass the group, "to attend tomorrow's New Moon Beneficence as my guests. I think you will see-"

Dhauna's second call was more strident: "Feena!"

Feena winced and glanced at Julith. The other priestess gave her a sharp nod of encouragement. Feena drew a breath. "I think you'll see how much need there is for this type of cooperation and how much good we would be able to do if we were to work togeth"

Feena!

The call was magical, echoing inside her head as loudly as if Dhauna were standing right next to her and shouting in her ear. Feena gasped and actually staggered. Julith caught her.

"Feena, what is it?" the young priestess whispered.

"Mother Dhauna doesn't want to be ignored," Feena grunted. She stood and offered her guests a bow. "Please excuse me," she said. "It seems there's something I must see to." She laid a hand on Julith's shoulder. "Julith can tell you anything you need to know. Thank you very much for taking the time to come and speak with me."

She turnedand Mifano and Velsinore turned as well, moving to intercept her as the rest of the group converged on Julith. She shot the pair a hard glance.

"Not now," she snapped.

"Feena!" Velsinore began angrily.

Feena glared at her. "I said not now!"

She crossed the courtyard at a swift stride. As soon as she was beyond the cloisters and inside the temple, she broke into a furious run, hastening up to the High Moonmistress's quarters before Dhauna could try calling her again.

The high priestess stood at the door, waiting for her.

"Do you ever intend to come when I call you?" the old woman asked.

"I was busy, Mother Dhauna," Feena snarled. "Did you look out your window? I was in the courtyard meeting with people. Important people!" She stormed past Dhauna and into the sitting room. It was dark. The High Moonmistress had drawn the curtains against the sun. Magic lit the desk in a puddle of light. Dhauna closed the door and waddled over to the desk.

Feena looked at her and frowned. "Where are your canes?"

"I put them aside," said Dhauna. "Selune gives me strength."

She'd used magic to bolster herself, just as she had on the night of the Full Moon Blessing. Feena's eyes narrowed.

"What's going on, Dhauna? Why did you call me?" "I've unlocked the meaning of the dreams." Feena stared at her in surprise for a moment, then asked, "What?"

Dhauna scowled and said, "Are you deaf? Is that why you don't come when you're called?" She shoved her chair out of the way and bent over a series of books and scrolls laid out on the desk. "I said I've unlocked the meaning of the dreams. I know what Selune has been trying to guide me toward."

There was only the barest trace of triumph in her voice and no joy at all. Feena hesitated before asking, "You've uncovered the heresy?"

"Yes and no," Dhauna replied, gesturing. "Come look at this."

Feena stepped over to the desk and looked down at the collection of records laid out there. Dhauna pointed at the first of them, a book of dark, greasy parchment. The ink on the pages had bled badly over time, but the book was clearly written in the angular Dethek script used in the region of the Moonsea.

"This is a record of inquests held at the House of the Moon in the city of Thentia," said Dhauna. "It came to Moonshadow Hall about a hundred years ago, but parts of the record are as much as two centuries older. This was written in about 1194." She cleared her throat and read, "'Mirela, Fela, and Iwna Telsk, the three sisters who tended Selune's shrine at the trade moot of Glister until the Year of Sinking Sails, stand accused of the New Moon Heresy. As the sisters perished in that year, we declare that none may judge them save Selune herself and in memory of their long years of true faith, declare them acquitted of these false and heinous charges.'"

Feena frowned again. "I've never heard of the New Moon Heresy."

"Neither had I," admitted Dhauna. "I wonder if the Thentians had either. The Year of Sinking Sails was U. 80 Dalereckoning. It's almost as if it took them fourteen years just to assign a name to whatever those three priestesses did. And Glister is only a remote crossroads even father north than Thentia. To have crossed that distance and endured so many years of investigation, the rumor must have been something shocking." She put her finger on the eptry. "But as soon as I found this entry, I knew it was what I was looking for. Then I found this…"

She moved her finger to a scroll of cracked parchment that was being held flat by a shoe on one side and the moon's road tiara on the other. The scroll had been written in the bold curves of Thorass that Feena could read herself. "'And long be chanted the name of Marrigan, who heard the call of Selune and turned her back on the Gray Wolves to become a hero of the New Moon,'" she read out loud. She looked at Dhauna. "Wait. Here it sounds like the New Moon Heresy is something highly regarded."

"This scroll is a transcription of legends told by the more civilized of the Uthgardt tribes of the Silver Marches in the northwest beyond the Anauroch desert," said Dhauna. "The scroll is centuries old, but the stories are probably even older."

Feena's eyebrows rose. "I've heard of the Gray Wolf Uthgardt tribe," she gasped. "They're werewolves!"

Dhauna nodded and said, "And savages by all accounts, so a Gray Wolf following the call of Selune must have been something. Unfortunately, that's all the scroll has to say about Marrigan. Two clues about the New Moon Heresy, yet still nothing clear. But then…"

She reached for a folded leaf of fine vellum and carefully opened it.

The vellum had been used to take a rubbing of some stone inscription. The carved words were in both Dethek and Thorass, in two columns of characters. Feena took the vellum gently and held it up to read the ghostly words.

To the memory o/Niree Swifthands. In Elmwood, a Hero of the New Moon Pact, in Chancelgaunt, a Heretic. Murdered in treachery and jealousy there at Bright Lady's Tower in the Year of Lost Wayfarers, 757. Selune guide her to rest.

"Chancelgaunt is the old name for Selgaunt," said Dhauna. "The rubbing was taken in the Temple of the

Half-Moon in Elmwood, an ancient village on the south side of the Moonsea."

"I've been there," said Feena. "I don't remember seeing this memorial."

"It may well be gone or by hidden nowthe rubbing was made almost four hundred years ago, two hundred years after this Niree Swifthands was executed at Selune's temple in Selgaunt."

"There's no temple to Selune in Selgaunt."

"There was six hundred years ago. Ironically, it was abandoned and demolished not long after 757. Its library was brought here." Dhauna opened the final book on the table, a grand tome bound in silver and white leather. "Eighteen Kythorn, the Year of Lost Wayfarers," she began.

Feena moved around to read over her shoulder.

I, Brima Chintamn, High Moonmistress of Bright Lady's Tower in Chancelgaunt, declare the ancient Pact of the New Moon to be ended. The lands and goods held by it and its former members are forfeit and are to become the property of the temple of Selune to which they lie nearest. Its tales and legends are declared false and are to be purged from archives and expunged from memory. Its members are declared heretics. Those in our custody have been tried and found guiltythey are cast out ofSelUne's grace, in body and in soul. Should any remain free, let them also be cast out of Selune's grace. Their heresy has damned them. I pray that Selune's face turn away so that their souls walk in darkness until the end of time.

I, Rian Liurandel, Priestess of the High Moonlight of the House of the Moon in Waterdeep, concur and so pray.

I, Zarran Tonnos, High Moonmistress of Moonmaiden's Hall in Murran, concur and so pray.

I, Bero Falabara, High Moonmaster of the Crescent Shrine in Alaghdn, concur and so pray.

I, Mara Nightnever, High Moonmistress of Moonshadow Hall in Yhaunn, concur and so pray.

The list went on, another half dozen high priests and priestessesthough not the high priestess of Elmwood adding their condemnation.

"Moonmaiden's grace," breathed Feena. "What was this Pact of the New Moon and what did they do?"

Dhauna began flipping back through the book as she explained, "According to the records of their trial, the New Moon Pact was an order of priests and warriors in Selune's service throughout the north and west of Faerun. They were never large, but they were ancientthis makes passing mention of events centuries before the trial, which would fit with the Uthgardt legend of Marrigan. And even though they were a small order, over time the Pact accumulated significant wealth and power while answering to no temple or clerical hierarchy."

"The New Moon Pact is a strange name for a Selunite order," Feena observed. "The new moon is a dark time."

Dhauna looked up at her. "The New Moon Pact," she said in a quiet voice, "did dark deeds. They claimed to serve the interests of Selune that couldn't be spoken openly."

Feena's eyes went wide. "Assassins?" she choked.

"They were never accused of that," Dhauna said. "They were defenders and avengers, working in secret and sometimes against the interests of the larger temples. Six hundred years later, the charges of heresy ring more than hollow." She flipped back to the declaration of condemnation. "This passage about land and goods being forfeit to the templesI've seen that in too many trumped up charges of outlawry. I think Selune's clergy feared and envied the New Moon Pact."

"Because they were fighters?" Feena snorted. "I think I like these people."

"They were more than just fighters, Feena." Dhauna gave her a sideways glance. "The New Moon Pact embraced werewolves and lycanthropes of all kinds."

Feena opened her mouth in amazement, then closed it again, speechless.

"An order of werewolves?" she whispered finally. "They still exist then. I've heard stories of the Sil"

"Silverstars?" Dhauna finished for her. She shook her head. "The Silverstars accept lycanthropes, but they aren't the same. Silverstars promote tolerance and harmony in Selune's name." She touched the declaration of condemnation. "The Pact fought for Selune. They moved in darkness. Maybe that's what gave their persecutors the basis for the accusation of heresy."

"Which was?" asked Feena.

Dhauna flipped through the book once more and indicated another passage. Feena bent closer and read:

… and over time they became corrupted by the darkness they had been commanded to fight, turning from Selune's light to chant and pray in unholy tongues to Shar. Worse, they then affirmed a blasphemy: that Shar was not Selune's sister, but the Moonmaiden herself, and that Shar was only a name given to Selune's dark face.

Feena gasped and flinched back. Her hand darted up to clutch the battered disk of her holy symbol. "That's monstrous!"

"And so the ancient New Moon Pact became the reviled New Moon Heresy, its members damned and the very mention of it erased. The pact survives only in remote inscriptions and barbarian tales, the mere mention of the heresy only in charges that take more than a decade to even identify." Dhauna closed the great tome and said, " Our Silver Lady shield us from such horrors."

Feena swallowed and said, "But if the priestesses of

Glister could even be accused of such a thing " She looked up. "Dhauna, could the New Moon Heresy have been reborn here? Is that what Selune is trying to warn you about?"

"No," said Dhauna, a gentleness returning to her voice. "There's no truth to the Heresy. It was a false accusation-terrible, but false. The priestesses of Glister were caught by a shadow of a memory of it. And whispers of the Heresy in my dreams…" The High Moonmistress patted Feena's cheek. "A clue, nothing more. One I misinterpreted in my weakness. Heresy is a danger, but knowledge of the New Moon Heresy was necessary only to uncover the truth of the Pact."

"Then why did Selune send the dreams at all?" Feena asked in confusion. "What does she want?"

Dhauna's gentle smile hardened. "She wants me to bring back the New Moon Pact. That's clear to me now. She wants me to lead the fight against her enemies outside of the templesand within it. My summoning of you, that was part of her plan, too."

Feena stared at her. "What?"

"Only lycanthropes could belong to the New Moon Pact." Dhauna Myritar reached up and wrenched with magic-enhanced strength at the neck of her robe, tearing it wide to expose her chest. "Bite me, Feena! Turn me into a werewolf!" peena stared at the High Moonmistress in shock.

"No!" she spat. "Dhauna, that's-"

"Insane?" Dhauna's eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed, but her voice was steady. "That's what you all think of me already, isn't it? My ears are still sharp, Feena, and in spite of what everyone seems to think, so are my wits. There are things to be seen by moonlight that sunlight cannot reveal." She moved closer, holding her torn robe wide. "Bite me!" she ordered. "You were the one my thoughts turned to the night of that first dream. Selune knew I would need you here to share her blessing with me! With it, I will be stronger, more vitalthe Moonmaiden's arm!"

"Dhauna, no," Feena said. She backed away from the old priestess. "Being, a werewolf isn't a blessing. Do you know what would happen if I were to bite you?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't." Dhauna lowered her hands from her collar and said, "On the night of next full moon, I will take the form of a wolf, with no more than an animal's wild instincts. I saw it happen to you as a girl. We had to lock you in one of the chambers in the infirmary until the night was over. But you learned to control it, didn't you?"

Feena gasped. "I learned to control it, yes, but I was born a werewolf. The wolf has always been inside me. In you…" She spread her hands. "Mother Dhauna, the beast would rage out of control. Believe me. I've seen it happen all too often."

"Control can be taught."

"I" Feena ground her teeth together, cutting off her own words. "No. I won't do it."

Dhauna hissed, "You have to." Her voice rose and broke. "You have to! Selune has guided us both to this moment."

"I won't!" Feena shouted.

Her refusal echoed in the sudden silence. Dhauna stared at her with hard, cold eyes. After a moment, she said softly, "I see."

"Mother Dhauna…" Feena began.

The high priestess just shook her head. "I feared this," she said. "You reject Our Silver Lady's call. I'm sorry, Feena." Her arm rose, fingers curled into a mystic sign. "By the Moonmaiden's light, let your hidden spirit be revealed!"

Silver light lanced out as if the full moon itself were captured in Dhauna's curled fingers. Feena gaspedthen shrieked. The sound of her dress ripping apart vanished in the pain that washed over her. Fur raced across her skin, burning like fire. Her joints and bones popped and rearranged themselves. Muscles1 shifted and broke. Her face tore as it grew into a muzzle. The forced change was harsher than anything she had ever endured. When her paws hit the floor, it was all she could do to stay on them.

"The New Moon Pact," snarled Dhauna, "will be reborn!"

The night above the terrace of the Sky's Mantle was black and featureless. No moon. No stars. It draped down to shroud Yhaunn in darkness, wrapping it in thick, still heat. The terrace was the only source of light and noise.

Keph sat at a long table, the center of attention. Jarull, Starne, Baret, and Talisk sat with him, all of them laughing, all of them drinking the wine that flowed freely from a pitcher in the middle of the table. Strangely, Variance was there as well, laughing and drinking right along with them. Even stranger, so was Bolan. The priest's weird, flawless face didn't move, even when he laughed.

And they were all laughing a lot at the stories Keph told. At least Keph thought they were stories. He couldn't actually hear himself. Whenever he spoke, the words just came out as an indistinct buzz, something like a fly in a hot room. Whatever he was saying, though, it was clever and funny. Confidence rolled through him and he wished he could hear the story himself. It must have been good, maybe the best tale ever told. Everyone was hanging on his words.

Not just his friends, either. When he turned his head to the side, he realized that the table was a lot longer than he'd thought. It stretched out like a banquet table. Crowded around it were all of Shar's cultists, some hooded, some boldly barefaced. There were other people, too. The denizens of the Cutter's Dip: Stag, Drik, Noyle, Lahumbra, Kor, and other men and women he couldn't name. He focused on a knot of them as they fawned over him.

I know you, he thought, but from where?

They were Lyraene's friendsthe cronies who backed her in the fight on the bridge.

"That's right, you bastard!" the half-elf shrieked. She leaned over the table, her face damp with sweat, her blond hair limp around her delicately tapered ears. "They're yours now. You wanted them, you got 'em. They didn't want to be around me anymore."

She thrust her right arm in front of his face. What shriveled flesh clung to her bones was red and oozing, flaked with tattered patches of black crust. Her hand and wrist were twisted, muscles and tendons drawn taut by Quick's lightning. Keph's stomach rose at the sight and he lurched back.

"You're not going to take that, are you?" asked Jarull.

Keph spun to look at his friend. Jarull sat close to Variancevery close. Their hands were entwined, the matching amethyst rings nestled together and winking at each other in the light. The purple gleam reflected in Jarull's eyes.

"Believe in the Lady of Loss," said Variance. "Your faith is strong, isn't it?"

Keph turned back to Lyraene and raised his hand. Shar's disk dangled from his fingers to lie like an eye in the center of his palm. Lyraene sneered at him and reached out with her burned hand.

"Shar take you!" Keph snarled.

Shadows welled up like smoke, billowing silently over the half-elf. Between one heartbeat and the next, she was gone.

Ecstasy blossomed in Keph as night's power swept through his soul. Drunk on it, he whirled and raised his hand to Lyraene's former friends.

"Shar take you!"

Darkness swallowed them as well. Their laughter disappeared. Keph spun to Stag, Drik, and the others from the Cutter's Dip.

"Shar take you!" he commanded, pointing at each of them in turn. "Shar take you! Shar take you!"

One by one, they vanished into the shadows. His friends and the cultists just laughed louder and cheered him.

"The Mistress of Night has chosen," roared Jarull. "And she has chosen Keph!"

Only one person was no longer laughing. Bolan glared at Keph, his eyes dark holes in his white face. Keph faced him and slowly raised his hand once more.

"Shar take you," he said.

The darkness that swallowed Bolan burst out of his eyes and swarmed across his faceShar took her priest from the inside out. Variance reached across the table and touched Keph's arm.

"The Mistress of the Night has a great destiny for you," she said. "You'll take his place."

"Oh, yes," said a bitter voice. "That's Kephalways taking someone else's place."

Feena thrashed desperately, trying to shake her trembling legs free of the tattered remains of her gown. Dhauna kept the light on her. Its radiance was maddeningshe could feel it pressing against her, glaring in her eyes and throbbing in her brain as if she had stared too long at reflections in water on a bright day. Feena tried to change back, but couldn't. The magic stirred the wolf in her even as it dazed the woman. A thin, helpless whimper forced its way out of her throat.

"Be silent!" Dhauna hissed. "You brought this on yourself." With her free hand she fumbled for the holy symbol at her neck. The chain snapped, and Dhauna held the symbol up. "Tremble before Selune for her gaze is upon you!"

Magic crushed down on Feena. Her whine rose as Selune's power shifted and changed like gathering storm clouds, the goddess's will tearing through her already shaken spirit.

No, some part of her thought, not Selune's will Dhauna's. The magic might descend from Night's Bright Lady, but spun out in the prayers of a mortal, it was nothing more than a blunt club wielded by Dhauna's madness.

Feena desperately clung to that thought in the face of the dark fear that flooded over her. Rage flared in Dhauna's eyes. The old priestess thrust Selune's symbol at her.

"By the Moonmaiden!" she cried. "By the Bright Lady of Night and Our Silver Lady!" She took a step forward.

"You"

She took another step. Feena scrambled back.

"Wim"

Another step. Feena cowered.

"yield!"

Energy, invisible and formless, surged in the rawest expression of Selune's faith, the ultimate power of the goddess of the moon over a creature of the night. It ripped away any illusion of control, and Feena howled as helpless terror seized her, wolf and woman recoiling as one from Selune's high priestess. Instinct took over. She scrambled back, tripping over her own legs in panic. A stack of scrolls blocked her way. Her claws shredded the ancient parchments as she thrust herself as far as possible from Dhauna.

Cold stone stopped her. She pressed herself into a corner, the hair on her neck bristling high, her teeth bared.

Dhauna turned with her, one hand still presenting Selune's symbol, the other still clenched around silver light.

"You are weak, Feena Archwood," she raved. "Weak and foolish! I am Selune's hope. Her warnings speak to me, and through me the New Moon Pact will be reborn! Through me, her faith will be cleansed. I will be her hand. There will be no fear. There will be no heresy, and no heretics." Her eyes narrowed. "Have they taken you, Feena?" she asked. "Have they already caught you in their web of lies?"

The words barely pierced Feena's terror. All she could do was growl at her tormentor. Saliva fell in a long string from her mouth. Dhauna bared her own teeth in response.

"You will be restored, Feena. I promise that. You will see I'm right. I do this out of love for Our Silver Lady." Her eyes shone fever bright. "Now do what your goddess calls you to do!"

She took a step forward.

Cornered, driven beyond fear, Feena snarled, snapped then leaped. Powerful jaws bit down, tearing into Dhauna's outstretched arm. Dhauna shrieked as she stumbled backward under the wolfs weight. Blood spurted hot in Feena's mouth.

– Keph turned to look down the table. Roderio looked back at him. His brother satalong with Strasus, Dagnalla, Malia, and Krinat the dining table of Fourstaves Hall. Just as they had for breakfast. Keph's breakfast was laid out before him as well. The Sky's Mantle was gone. So were the Sharrans except for Jarull and Variance. They stood behind him, hands on his shoulders. Keph stared at Roderio.

"What do you mean by that?" Keph demanded.

Roderio snorted derisively and said, "Just what I said, little brother." He pushed his breakfast away. "You're always taking someone else's place, borrowing someone else's power. From the day you were born, always 'Mama, I want Rodo's food! Mama, I want Rodo's toys!'" Roderio's voice rose high and whining. "'Da, I want magic like Rodo and Mali!'"

"Roderio," said Dagnalla, "don't taunt your brother. He's too young to know any better."

Roderio just made a face. "So now you're going to be Shar's dark priest, is that it, Keph? You're still just borrowing power. Even if you have magic now, it's not yours. It's Shar's."

"Shut your mouth!" screamed Keph. He lifted a clenched fist and opened it.

Dark, glittering magesbane dust was heaped on his palm. He flung it at Roderio.

His anger caught it and turned it into a shining, swarming cloud. Suddenly his brother was flailing back away from the table, shrieking and tearing at his clothes as glittering particles settled onto his skin and collapsed into drops of thick, yellow-green acid. His robes began to smolder. When he turned to Keph again, huge red sores had been eaten into his face. Acid poured in smoking streams from his eyes. Skin was sloughing off his melting hands.

"Keph…"he choked.

Fear stabbed into Keph's heart. What had he done?

"Rodo!" he gasped, and started to rise.

Hands held him firm.

"Tell me you regret it," said Jarull.

"The agony of an enemy's spirit is joy to the Mistress of the Night," said Variance.

Keph watched Roderio slump into formless, bilious ooze.

"No!" he shouted, struggling to stand. Variance's grip tightened harshly and she look down on him.

"False regret," she hissed. "Everything that you've done, you've done deliberately."

"Keph?" Malia said, staring at him in loathing and hatred. Krin and Dagnalla were staring too. Only Strasus kept eating, oblivious as Malia spat at her youngest brother. "This was no accident? You did this?"

He shook his head in desperate denial, but his sister was already rising. Her staff was in her hands, a shimmer of force surrounding it. Dagnalla held a staff as well. Krin was drawing a wand.

Jarull held out his fist. From between his fingers, black grains of magesbane sifted down. He opened his hand and flicked his wrist. Dust scattered through the air like a wave of shadow. Keph sucked in a breath.

"Mali!" he shouted, straining forward. "Don't"

Too late. Malia held up her staff, spoke a sharp word, and the magesbane exploded.

The blast was deafening. It slammed Keph back into his chair and hammered against his chest. He felt dry grit, like wind-blown sand, sting his cheeks, but he couldn't see anythingthe explosion was dark and cold, without heat or light. Keph screamed against it, flinging up an arm to protect his facepure reflexbut it was already too late.

Variance and Jarull swayed, their grip on him firm.

Silence followed. Keph lowered his arm and stared at the devastation. Black dust hung thick in the air. The dining table was gone, with only a few scattered splinters to mark its passing. The walls of Fourstaves House were broken stone, the roof and upper floors blasted away. Keph could see the black sky looming close above.

There was no sign of Dagnalla, Malia, Krin, or the foul ooze that had been Roderio.

Or of Strasus. His father was gone.

Keph sat back. His heart felt… dark. And empty.

"Shar's blessing," said Jarull. "The Lady of Loss touches you."

His hands were gone from Keph's shoulder. So were Variance's. Keph rose unsteadily and turned around to find them facing him, silently watching" He swallowed.

"This isn't what I wanted," he said.

"You made the sacrifice," Variance replied. "Your family for Shar's embrace." She held out the sacrificial knife, the same one Bolan had put into his hand in Shar's temple only five nights before. Keph stared at it. Blood stained the blade. Adrey's blood.

"No," he breathed. "That was an illusion. Adrey"

Doors banged open behind him. He spun around.

A woman in a swordfighter's costume strode through the ruins of Fourstaves House. Lyraene. No, Keph realized with a start, not Lyraene.

Adrey. Grown up.

"I want to be like you, Uncle Keph," she said. "I want to fight like you."

Shar's disk hung around her neck.

– — ‹§› It was over in an instant.

The glare of Dhauna's magical moonlight vanished with Feena's attack. Conscious thought returned with a slap of clarity. Feena opened her jaws in shock. Dhauna's arm slipped free, and the old woman dropped to the ground and curled up around her torn arm. Footsteps pounded in the hallway outside. There were voices:

"What's going on?"

"I don't know!"

"Did you hear that? Moonmaiden's grace" "It's locked!"

"Stand aside! Bright Lady of the Night, lend me your strength!"

The clergy were coming in. Feena reached into her spirit. The wolf gave no resistance as she drew the woman back to the surface. The transformation felt like nothing at allshe shook herself back into human form just as the door of Dhauna's chamber groaned and tore out of its frame. Mifano shoved it out of the way and stumbled into the chamberthen froze. Clustered at the door, other priests and priestesses stopped as well, all of them staring in horror.

In the midst of shredded scrolls and torn clothing, Feena rose up above Dhauna's huddled, shivering form-naked, blood-smeared, and completely numb.

She drew herself up and moved toward the door. Mifano stood aside. Selune's clergy leaped to get out of her way. Feena walked past them all and out into the corridor, turning toward her room in silent, brittle dignity.

Blood dripped from her chin onto her breast. She stopped and turned to the nearest personJhezzailand said, "Younger sister…"

Jhezzail made no reply. Feena continued anyway.

"The High Moonmistress must be taken to the infirmary immediately and given a sprig of belladonna to eat. A fresh sprig. It will prevent her from becoming a werewolf." She focused on the girl. "Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, elder sister," Jhezzail stammered.

Feena turned away.

Sounds forced their way into her haze. Shouting. Screaming. Crying. Her nameJulith was calling her. Feena didn't answer.

She reached her room, opened the door, stepped through, and closed the door. Noises still reached her, including Julith's frantic calls. Footsteps raced along the hall outside, drawing nearerJulith again, she was certain of it. Feena shot the bolt on the door, then sagged down against the rough wood as Julith began to pound against it from the other side.

The high, keening whine that welled up from deep inside Feena's belly belonged more to the wolf than to the woman, but the despair and horror behind it were entirely human.

Adrey moved across the rubble strewn floor like a serpent. As she moved, she reached across her body and drew her sword. It left its scabbard with a dry hiss. Keph gasped.

She was carrying Quick.

A dark smile flickered across her face as she saw his surprise.

"It seemed appropriate," she said. "You already have the knife you used to kill me."

Keph glanced down. Shar's sacrificial knife was in his hand. He jerked and flung it away.

"Adrey," he said, "I didn't kill you!"

"You might as well have." Her voice was as cold as a winter wind. She lifted Quick, holding the rapier in front of her face. "Storm's lash!"

The lightning that writhed around the blade, bitterly white, brought no light to the darkened hall. Fear trembled through Keph's belly. He raised his hand and the disk of Shar that dangled from it.

"Shar-" he gasped. "Shar-"

"Shar take me?" Adrey laughed. "Uncle Keph, she already has. Don't you know any other spells?"

Mistress of the Night, he prayed, guide me.

Keph didn't speak the words, but they echoed in the hall just the same. Keph's gut twisted. An orison. One orison. Shar's guidance had shown him nothing more than damnation.

Adrey sank into a dueling pose, and Keph stumbled back.

"Adrey, I didn't mean it!"

"False regret does not become Shar's chosen," she snarled.

"No!" Keph spat. "It's not false. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Too late, Uncle Keph!"

She lunged and he twisted desperately. Quick slid past his belly, close enough that he could smell the lightning on her blade. Keph grabbed Adrey's extended arm and pulled her off balance, using the momentum to leap past her.

Through the open doors where she had entered, there was lighttwilight, the hot glow of sunset, the only true light in the hall.

Keph glanced over his shoulder. Adrey was back on her feet and coming after him. He turned back to the doorway, but Jarull and Variance barred his path.

"It's too late to back out now," Jarull said.

"The cult," said Variance, "must be protected."

He gulpedand dived between them.

For a moment it seemed like it might work. The light drew closer. He was almost there, almost out of the hall.

Hands closed on his legs. He hit the ground screaming and kicked out. Hands fell away but grabbed again.

"Too late," Variance chanted, "Too late."

Keph glanced up at her. She wasn't human anymoreher legs vanished in writhing darkness, while a dozen arms sprouted from her shoulders to twine around his legs. Her eyes were black. When she spoke, shadows escaped from her tongue in wisps.

When she smiled, deepest night itself shone through.

"Shar embraces you, Keph. She has plans for you. She's not going to let you go so easily."

She began to pull on his legs, slowly, irresistibly, dragging him back toward the darkness where Adrey waited with Quick and Jarull with Shar's knife. Keph choked and thrashed hard and sat up in his bed, sheets twisted around his legs. The light of sunset lanced through a gap in the curtains over his window. Somewhere a fly buzzed slowly, back and forth.

He was drenched in sweat. His hair was soaked with it. When he rubbed his hands across his face, it ran between his fingers in fat drops.

She's not going to let you go so easily.