Mistress of the Night

CHAPTER 3

Coolie Shoondeep, the chubby high priest of Tymora in Yhaunn, droned on and on about the great shame that came when temple competed with temple. Would it be a great shame, Feena wondered, if she were to stuff an apple from the nearby fruit bowl into his gaping mouth to shut him up? Glancing around the table, she was fairly certain that the leaders of Yhaunn's other major temples would support her. Their eyes were beginning to glaze over as well. He's dull, thought Feena, he's methodicalMoonmaiden's grace, has there ever been a more unlikely priest, of the bold goddess of good fortune?

Maybe not, a part of her responded, but is he any more unlikely a high priest than you are a high priestess?

She grimaced deeply. Mifano, seated just behind and to the right of her, leaned forward.

"What's wrong now?" he murmured in her ear.

"He's driving me crazy," Feena murmured back. "I can't even tell what he's complaining about!"

"The Lady Monstaed's late husband had leased several prime properties in the city to Ladysluck Tower," Mifano explained patiently. "Lady Monstaed recently rejected the renewal of those leases and transferred them, and the rents they provide, to another temple." He cleared his throat. "By the way, you have an appointment with Lady Monstaed tomorrow to thank her for her generosity."

Feena twisted around to stare at him in angry surprise. Her sudden, sharp movement drew the immediate attention of everyone else in the room. Colle broke off his tirade to scowl at her.

"Does the Moonmistress-Designate perhaps have an opinion on this matter?" he asked, eyebrow arched.

"I…" Feena fumbled for wordsthen shot a beseeching glance at Mifano. He sighed and leaned forward once more, whispering words that she repeated out loud. "I'm sorry to hear of your loss, High Luck. Our temples should stand as united in Yhaunn at large as they do within this council."

If Mifano had spoken the words himself, they would have emerged gracefully, an acknowledgement of Colle's complaint that was soothing without actually being an apology and thus a confession.

From Feena's mouth, they came out as wooden and stilted as a bad lie. Colle's face turned red with rage. Feena bit her tongue. Again. She had been doing it frequently for the past several days.

Dhauna Myritar had given no explanation for her actions at the Full Moon Blessing. She hadn't even spoken to Feenaor Mifano or Velsinoreinstead closeting herself in her quarters and refusing to respond to any and all protests. She didn't even come out for meals, instead sending Julith down to the temple's refectory to fetch a tray. She might as well have left Moonshadow Hall entirely. Feena felt like she wanted to crawl under a rock and hide. Velsinore and Mifano, she was quite sure, would be happy to hold one up for her. Preferably one that was very big and very heavy.

But she had agreed to help Dhauna, hadn't she? And no matter what opinions she, Mifano, or Velsinore might have had on the matter, the simple ceremony of succession had been performed. Dhauna had at long last named her successor. A successor undeniably responsible for fulfilling the duties that the High Moonmistress could notor would notcarry out.

Feena of Arch Wood village, Moonmistress-Designate of Moonshadow Hall. Bound by her word to Dhauna and her duty to Selune. At least Mifano and Velsinore had the pleasure of seeing her fail miserably at every turn.

The informal council of Yhaunn's religious leaders was only the latest disaster. In spite of Mifano's reluctant coaching, everything she did made her feel like nothing more than a backwoods yokel attending a high society dinner. She was fairly certain that most, if not all of the high priests and priestesses present had also immediately recognized that she was a werewolf. Colle had taken one look at her and flinched away, as if avoiding something unclean.

It didn't help that Velsinore had peevishly insisted on outfitting her in Selunite high regalia. Moonshadow Hall's seamstresses had hastily altereddrastically-some of Dhauna's old vestments to fit her. Feena had never worn so much fabric in her life. Layer upon layer of crinolines poofed out her skirts, a tight bodice made it difficult to breathe, and a high collar of starched lace scraped her neck every time she turned her head. Topping it all off, a coronet decorated with the mark of the approaching half moon dug painfully into her skull.

The wolf in her longed to run back to Arch Wood with her tail between her legs.

Just as it seemed Colle was about to heap another indignity on her already throbbing head, Mifano spoke up. "Your pardon, High Luck, but isn't one of the teachings of Tymora 'conduct yourself as your own masters, showing your good or bad fortune as confidence in the Lady'?"

Colle turned his scowl on Mifano, but quiet snickers were already rippling around the table. At its head, Endress Halatar, the elderly high priestess of the goddess of joy, laughed out loud and said, "He has you there, Colle. Grin and bear your fortuneyou've been beaten." She nodded to Mifano. "Well played!"

"But I…" Colle ground his teeth in frustration and spared one final glare for both Feena and Mifano, but sat down.

Mifano leaned back with a smug look on his face. Feena held back a glower of her own. The silver-haired priest had turned her awkwardness to his advantage.

"I believe that's all of our business," said Endress. "We meet again in one month at" she rifled through some papers. A twitch crossed her smiling face" Moonshadow Hall."

Uncomfortable silence fell across the table until Mifano broke it. "We look forward to welcoming you all."

He rose gracefully. Feena tried to stand as well, but the expansive volume of her skirts stuck between the arms of her chair and threatened to bring it up with her. Without looking down, Mifano offered her his arm while bracing one foot against the chair's leg until she had managed to pull herself free. Chin held high, Feena took his arm, and they paced out of the room. She tried to ignore the renewed round of snickers that followed her.

Velsinore was waiting when they arrived back at Moonshadow Hall. "Moonmistress-Designate," she said, "there's a matter we"

"must discuss," Feena finished for her. If there was anything she was growing to dislike more than tending to matters outside of Moonshadow Hall with Mifano, it was tending to matters within the Hall with Velsinore. "What is it this time?" she asked in resignation.

"The New Moon Beneficence." Velsinore turned as she spoke and walked briskly through the gate into Moonshadow Hall, the Waning Crescent sword banging against her leg. Feena had to hasten to follow, lengthening her stride as best she could in the billowing skirts.

"What's the New Moon Beneficence?" she asked.

The nights of the new moon were generally a quiet and contemplative time for the followers of Selune, a recognition of the only time that the moon didn't sail the sky. Feena couldn't recall any significant events of Selune's worship that took place during the dark of the moon.

"A charity feast instituted by Mother Dhauna several years ago," Velsinore replied. She turned along an inner corridor, heading for the long hall that was the temple's refectory. "She conceived of it as a way of extending Moonshadow Hall's good works in the city. All who wish to attend are welcome, whether they follow Our Silver Lady or not, and together we drive back the darkness with song."

As she spoke, a warm note entered Velsinore's voice. Feena looked sideways at her. She had known Velsinore almost as long as she had known Mifano, though not so well. When she and Mifano had been novices and later acolytes together, Velsinoreseveral years their elder-had already been a priestess, with little time and less patience for her juniors. Ironically, she had ended up in charge of the acolytes' dormitory. She had found a swift distrust for Mifano and his flirtatious manners, but it had always seemed to Feena that she reserved a special and immediate dislike for her. If punishments were handed out for bad behavior, they always seemed to fall more heavily when Feena was involved. Eventually they had developed a cool distance that had enabled them to get along, and before she left Moonshadow Hall to rejoin her mother in Arch Wood, Feena had even discovered a grudging respect for Velsinore. The priestess might have been cold and stiff on the outside, but her passion and devotion ran deep.

"That sounds like a wonderful way to pass the new moon," Feena said.

"It has been one of Mother Dhauna's wisest innovations," agreed Velsinore. "As the new moon is less than a tenday away, it's past time to begin planning the next Beneficence. The High Moonmistress has always been closely involved in the celebration. I presume you will want to keep up that tradition."

Feena's stomach sank. "You want me to speak at the feast?"

"It is expected." Velsinore pushed open the doors of the refectory. The temple's cook waited for them beside one of the dining hall's long tables. The table had been stacked with account books. Velsinore gestured toward them. "But for now, you need to plan the menu."

Feena stopped dead. "What?"

"You need to plan the feast," said Velsinore. "Idruth can give you suggestions, of course." She laid a hand on the stacked books. "These are accounts of our food stocks and of the sums budgeted for the event. You'll find menus of previous Beneficences as well, if you want to follow the easy path and duplicate one of them. Naturally, I can understand if you would prefer"

"Velsinore," Feena interrupted, "is this really necessary?"

She fought to keep anger out of her voice, but didn't succeed. The cook flinched back. Velsinore stood firm. When she answered, her voice was cool. "The Moonmistress-Designate assumes the High Moonmistress's duties, does she not?"

Feena's hands were trembling. She forced them to be still.

"Fine," she growled. She glanced at Idruth and the cook flinched back another step. "A side of beef," she ordered, "and four- young pigsmore to round out the servings if that's not enough to feed the number of people who come"

"Ah, meat," said Velsinore. She picked up a reed pen and made notes on a scrap of parchment. "Of course."

Feena sucked in her breath. "What do you mean by that?"

Velsinore looked up from the parchment. "Nothing at all, Moonmistress-Designate." Her voice was as calm as ever, but her eyes were hard. "Now," she asked, raising the pen, "would you like all this meat cooked or should we just leave it raw?"

Wo^f. Beast. Monster. Velsinore didn't say it, but she didn't need to. It was clear where her feelings lay.

Feena whirled aroundskirts rustling, bodice clenching, coronet pinchingand stormed out of the refectory without another word. In the hallway outside, novices and clergy alike scrambled out of her path. Feena strode down the hall and up the ramp to the temple's second floor and Dhauna Myritar's quarters. She raised her fist and hammered on the door.

"Mother Dhauna!" she shouted. "Let me in." There was no response. Feena pounded on the wood again. "I'm not. going away this time, Dhauna. We're going to talk!"

There was still no sound from the other side of the door. Feena reached down and rattled the latch. It was locked. Feena took a step back, hiked up the froth of her skirts, and threw her shoulder against the door. Then again.

With the second blow, wood splintered. With a third, the lock tore free and the door slammed open. Feena released her skirts and stomped through.

There was no one in the High Moonmistress's quarters. Everything seemed to lie just as it had on the evening when Feena had first arrived, but neither Dhauna nor Julith were present. Feena clenched her jaw. Could they have slipped out of Moonshadow Hall while she was away at the council of temples? When Dhauna had spent so much time shut away, it hardly seemed likely that she should suddenly leave.

Feena's eye fell on the books and scrolls that were piled in the sitting room. "I have even more spread out in the archives," Dhauna had said that first evening. Feena turned and walked back out into the corridor.

On its east, south, and west sides, Moonshadow Hall was relatively low, the better to allow Selune's light to enter the central courtyard. On its north side, however, it rose higher. The entire top floor of that height was occupied by the temple's archives, which were reached by a narrow, little-used ramp located along a dark corridor conveniently close to the quarters of the high priestess. Unlike the high priestess's quarters, though, the archives were protected by a substantial door that was banded with iron and secured with a heavy lock. Normally the lock was open so that any member of the clergy, should they feel the desire, could consult the archives. It was locked.

Feena pounded on the thick wood and called, "Dhauna! Julith! I know you're in there. If you don't open this door, I swear by the Bright Lady of Night that I will get an axe and chop it open!"

A faint flutter of noise from within suggested that she hadn't been wrong and that her threat had been heard. A moment later, the door opened. Julith grabbed her arm and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind her.

"Does anyone else know we're here?" the dark-haired priestess whispered.

"If they have half a brain, they might figure it out," Feena grumbled as she marched on, leaving Julith scurrying in her wake.

Moonshadow Hall was one of the earliest major buildings built in Yhaunn. Its archives were correspondingly old and extensive. Because it was the largest temple of Selune in that part of Faerun, it had also become the repository for records gathered from even older shrines. Whenever a hermit-priestess died, whenever a remote chapel was finally allowed to collapse, whenever another temple simply needed to clear the dust from its vaults, old records and tattered tomes were sent to Moonshadow Hall to be preserved for the greater faith of Selune. Row upon row of high shelves crammed with books, papers, and scrolls filled the archives. Feena had never much liked the place. It was too quiet for her, too full of dead, dry words. As she walked into the dusty shadows, she almost had to fight against the muffling silence to keep her rage burning.

She found the High Moonmistress skimming a book that was a full handspan thick. Cool magical light shone from a humble paperweight, casting illumination across the book, an inkwell and pen, a tray with a half-eaten bowl of soup from lunch, and a scattering of parchments crowded with scribbled notes. Dhauna glanced up sourly as Feena approached.

"I told you no one, Julith! I don't want to see anybody."

The old priestess had been lying when she said it was only the vestments that made her look wasted, Feena realized. Without them, Dhauna looked even more aged and frail. The sleeves of her simple, soft robe had been pinned back so they didn't tangle in the pages she turned.

Feena stepped forward without giving Julith a chance to reply and said, "Mother Dhauna, I need to talk to you."

"I don't have time, Feena." Dhauna began to turn a page, then stopped and squinted at it. "Did I just read this?" she muttered, and flipped ahead, then back again. She looked up at Feena with an angry glare. "Our Lady of Silver, do you see what you've made me do?" she spat. She slammed the book closed hard enough to make the glowing paperweight jump and the cold soup splash. "I didn't summon you to Moonshadow Hall just so you could start interrupting me, too!"

Feena stared at her, at the stacks of books surrounding her, and an ugly suspicion formed in her mind.

She narrowed her eyes and said, "You intended to name me as Moonmistress-Designate from the moment you sent for me!" She stalked up to the broad table at which Dhauna sat. "With me to handle your duties and keep Mifano and Velsinore busy, you were free to continue your research! That's it, isn't it? That's why you really needed me to come to Moonshadow Hall."

"Yes!" snapped Dhauna. "Yes, it is." She put her elbows on top of the book and propped up her head on her hands, rubbing her palms against her eyes and forehead. "I know it's not what you were thinking when you agreed to help me"

"It isn't," Feena said. "You said you needed me."

Dhauna looked up at her. Her eyes were tired, like drawn shadows at dusk. "I do need you, Feena," she said, raising one arm and gesturing around her. "All this… most of it I've accomplished in just the last few days and nights." There was a weary desperation in her voice. "Velsinore and Mifano are running you ragged, aren't they? I couldn't keep up with that and my duties to the temple and still try to work out what Selune is trying to tell me. I told you, I didn'tdon'tdare trust anyone inside Moonshadow Hall. They might be the very source of the danger. Even turning to Julith was a risk, but I know that I can trust you. You were the only one I knew I could safely put in charge. If you'd only come sooner…" She rubbed her eyes again. "A tenday, Feena. Give me a tenday and I think I'll have all the answers."

Feena turned and glared out into the darkened recesses of the archives. Her fists were clenched so tightly she could feel her nails digging into her palms. The headache the half moon coronet had given her was pounding like a hammer in her head.

"Tell me what you know."

"Feena, I can't-"

"Tell me," Feena pressed, looking down at the old priestess. "If I'm going to put up with Mifano and Velsinore, I want to know that it's worth it. I want to know what we're dealing with. What have you found so far?" She forced her fists open. "What are these dreams?"

She heard Julith hiss softly in warning, but Dhauna held her hand up.

"No, Julith. It's all right." She sat back in her chair. Her eyes focused in the shadows and she said, "The dreams fade quickly, but with each one I remember a little more on waking. The situations vary from dream to dream, but some things are always the samea profound unease that builds to horror. Sometimes I'm walking through a dark passage. Sometimes I'm just sitting in the courtyard of Moonshadow Hall at night, with nothing reflecting in the sacred pool but stars.

Sometimes I'm actually swimming in the poolor maybe in the seaalone. Wherever I am, the unease comes over me. Suddenly there are voices and something is dreadfully, terribly wrong. I know the voices, but what they're saying makes no sense. They're all around me, threatening to overcome me."

Dhauna's voice tightened. Her hands were wrapped around the arms of her chair.

"And there's something behind them," the old woman continued, "something very old, and no matter how terrifying the voices are, that thing is even worse. No matter how I try to escape it, I can't. Sooner or later, it's going to catch me and it's going to consume"

She gasped, and her voice broke. Feena felt as if she couldn't move, spellbound by the tale, but Julith stepped around the table and moved to the old woman's side. Dhauna took Julith's hands.

"I have to finish," the high priestess said. She looked at Feena once more. "I always wake up before it catches me, but just before I do, I realize that I'm carrying something." She gestured around them. "A book. That's Selune's clue, Feena. I'll find the answers I need here."

Feena drew a slow breath and said, "There are a lot of books here, Mother Dhauna."

"Yes," the high priestess agreed, "but I think I understand other parts of the dream now, too. Selune's faith is ancient, among the oldest in Faerun. We've had our dark times. The consuming horror with many voices… the old terror that destroys tranquility?" She leaned forward and whispered one word. "Heresy."

Feena's teeth clenched. "Heresy? Mother Dhauna, is that really"

"How old were you when the Time of Troubles fell upon Faerun, Feena?" Dhauna snapped. "Eleven? Twelve? It was before you came to Moonshadow Hall, I know that, but your mother must have told you about the fear and uncertainty that came with the casting down of the gods. Heresy is worse. It's insidious. It isn't a test of faith, it's torture, chaos that divides temples and turns sister against sister. Even in a faith so tolerant as Selune's, when heresy rises, all of us feel the upheaval."

"Mother Dhauna…" said Julith in soothing tones, but Dhauna brushed her away.

"What must be stirring now," she asked Feena, "that the Moonmaiden herself moves to warn us about it? Feena, believe me, whatever heresy grows in Moonshadow Hall, we have to stop it. We have to…"

She sighed and seemed to sink in on herself.

"Dhauna?" Feena gasped in alarm.

The High Moonmistress shook her head and replied, "I'm just… tired. Selune's warnings take their toll." She cast her eyes over the books in front of her, then turned a tired gaze on Feena. "I need to get back to work. A tenday, Feena. I'm sure of it. You'll stay?"

Feena nodded, numb.

"Good. Tell no one about the dreams, Feena. Even if you're defending me."

"I won't, Mother Dhauna," Feena promised, but the old woman was already turning back to her books.

A soft touch on her shoulder drew Feena's attention. Julith stood beside her. The dark-haired priestess shook her head and silently gestured for Feena to follow her.

"That's the best she's been in two days," she said as she led Feena back to the archive door. Julith glanced back over her shoulder at the pool of light that surrounded Dhauna. The High Moonmistress was gingerly unrolling a scroll that seemed ready to crumble at any sudden movement. "I'm worried, Feena. She's becoming obsessed with heresy. What if there is no heresy?"

"You mean, what if she's truly going mad?"

Julith held out her hands, helpless, and replied, "I don't know what to think. Sometimes I would say yes, but the books and scrolls that she asks me to fetch, the notes that she makesthere's a method to them, I'd swear it."

"There are things to be seen by moonlight that sunlight cannot reveal," murmured Feena. It was a favorite saying among the followers of Selune. Sometimes the

Moonmaiden's insights could be more than a mortal mind was capable of dealing with.

But sometimes the saying was just an excuse.

Feena gripped Julith's hand and said, "Let me know if it gets worse."

"I will," Julith replied. She returned Feena's gripand drew her into a close embrace. "And you come to me if you need to. I'll help you however I can."

Startled, Feena stiffened, but then relaxed. There was a genuine warmth in Julith's voice and embrace.

"I will," she said.

"If you need to be alone," Julith added, "I can tell you how to get rid of Velsinore and Mifano."

A smile spread across Feena's face and she stepped back.

"No, that's all right," she said. "I think they're done with me for today. But you're right. Some time alone is what I need."

When silence finally fell over Moonshadow Hall that night, Feena, wearing her own blouse and homespun skirt once more, slipped out of the chamber that Velsinore had reluctantly assigned her and down to the temple's kitchen. At the back of the big room there was a stout door. Feena murmured a prayer to Selune that nothing had changed substantially since her days as an acolyte at the temple, and drew back the door's heavy bolt.

The door swung open on a small kitchen herb garden built onto the side of Moonshadow Hall. Feena closed the door behind herself and stepped through the dew-damp beds to the wall that surrounded the garden. A squat, weathered pillar that might once have been a statue was right where she remembered it, if a little mossier and a little more deeply sunk in the ground. She stepped carefully on top of it and reached up.

As an acolyte, she had just barely been able to reach the top of the wall with her fingertips. Now she could wrap her hands securely over it. With a quick hop and a little straining, she was up on top of it then slithering down into the shadows on the other side. An alley nearby formed a conveniently private niche. Feena slipped out of her clothes and tucked them into a bundle in a corner. Then she closed her eyes, took a breath, and opened herself to the wild power within her spirit.

The transformation came upon her like a warm breath across her skin, a shiver of sensation. Feena shook herself, the symbol of Selune jingling on the chain around her neck. When she opened her eyes again, she stood on four russet paws and the night air was rich with smells. Part of her wanted to sit back and offer a howl of joyful release to Selune's half-hidden face. She held that part back to a few delighted yips as she trotted off into Yhaunn's warm night.

I should have done this days ago, she thought. There was some truth to the tales that connected werewolves to the full moon. An innocent bitten by a werewolf and infected with its curse could be forced into a rampaging animal shape by the full moon's light. But Feena had been born a werewolf, inheriting the power from her dark father. She could change form whenever she desired. In her old days at the temple, both Dhauna's counsel and her mother's dire warnings had kept her safely inside the walls when she couldn't resist the call of her animal half. A hop over the wall in the herb garden had been only for acolytes desperate for a night in the citya human night. The city was no place for a young wolf.

But she had become both a priestess and an adult. Yhaunn was no forest, but it was better than the stone cage that Moonshadow Hall sometimes felt like. As open and airy as the temple was, it was still a human building, enclosed and cut off from the world. The wolf inside her needed to be free, away from Mifano's social niceties and Velsinore's restraining drudgeries.

Awayeven for just a little whilefrom Dhauna's dark portents of danger.

Feena growled. No! No thoughts of the High Moonmistress. This is my time.

She threw back her head and set free the howl that she had restrained before.

Every dog for blocks around went mad in a frenzy of barking. In alleys nearby, cats screeched as they scrambled for safety.

Tongue lolling in satisfaction, Feena trotted on. She followed the natural slope of the city down toward Yhauntan Bay and the Sea of Fallen Stars, letting her nose lead her to places and things she might have overlooked as a human. In a tiny square, the stink of rotting vegetables haunted the site of a farmers' market during the day. Among the shadows of one alley, the tang of blood and birtha mongrel bitch licked clean a new litter of puppies. She froze as she saw the wolf watching her. Feena kept her distance and after a time, the dog went back to licking her offspring, one eye fixed warily on the intruder. Feena spoke a silent prayer to Selune, asking her to watch over the newborn pups, before continuing on her way.

In another alley, she tore into a crawling swarm of rats, snatching them up in powerful jaws and breaking their spines with a swift shake. The vermin weren't exactly the blood-mad servants and marauding predators of Malar the Beastlord that she was used to stalking among the trees of the Arch Wood, but the skirmish left her panting and exhilarated. She rinsed the rats' foul taste from her mouth at a trough in a stable yard as the horses nearby whickered uneasily in their sleep.

Among the hovels closer to the docks, she listened outside a shack as the inhabitants wheezed and coughed. A miasma of pestilence drifted out of the shack. In the morning she would have Mifano send some of the junior clergy to the neighborhood. Prayers and medicines might stop the disease before it became a plague.

Finally, she ended up on the docks, gazing out over the sea. All around her, ships and boats bobbed at anchor, a cacophony of creaking wood and straining rope. Their hulls oozed the odors of wet wood and tar, overlaid with the stench of sweat and excrement. Feena stood as far out on the docks as she could, nose raised high to catch the fresh wind as it came over the water. She had stood on the docks many times before in human form, but never before as a wolf. There were so many smells crowded onto the sea windwater in vast quantity, of course, but beyond that…

Trees and flowers she couldn't have named.

Some powerful, bestial musk that sent a shiver down her back.

Fresh turned soil.

New cut wood.

Lightningfar out on the sea, a storm was brewing.

Some of the smells were probably her imagination, but they blended together in a perfume that set her heart racing and woke wanderlust within her.

Maybe someday, she thought, someday when Arch Wood doesn't need me anymore.

She drew a final deep breath and lowered her nose, turning to trot away from the water and back up to Moonshadow Hall.

She had barely cleared the stink of the docks when a new smell sent her cringing back instinctively, teeth bared and fur on enda dark smell, acrid, metallic, and foul. The wolf in her hated it. The human recognized it.

Poison.

No one with any honest business could be about with poison at that hour. Nose to the ground, Feena circled the trail once, then jogged along in the direction that seemed freshest. She gleaned more information as she went. A man carried the poison. He had been drinking, though not heavily, and his dinner had been some kind of spiced pork. The thick odor of clay clung to himshe would guess that he was a potterbut also the smell of cold, raw stone. It was a strange combination.

She caught sight of her quarry just as he stepped into the street-level shadows of the Stiltways.

A growl rumbled up from Feena's throat. She had been into the Stiltways as an acolyte, of course. It was all but impossible to live in Yhaunn without venturing into the district at least once. But even her human senses had reeled at the visual and auditory assault and it had taken her several visits to get used to the place. Crouched so low that she was almost crawling on her belly, her tail tucked tight between her legs, Feena creeped up to the intersection where the man had disappeared and peered inside.

Dank, vile odors wafted out at her. Sounds of pleasure and celebration mixed with groans of misery and suffering. The bright lights and chaos of the Stiltways were, at least, mostly on the levels over her head. Down below, figures moved and stumbled in shadow, their way lit only by smoky torches and shafts of light from above.

Her quarry was almost at the end of the street. The stink of the Stiltways masked the smell of the poison he carried. If she didn't follow, she would lose him.

Bright Lady of the Night guide me, thought Feena.

She rose and raced after him, the nails of her paws clicking on the stone of the street.

The man stopped and turned at the sound.

Feena plunged into the darkest of shadows. Another man curled up there, snoring and drunk. She hunkered down behind him as her quarry paused for a long moment, looking aroundthen moved on. Feena relaxed and rose.

The drunk man stirred.

"Fha… what?" he snorted. Bleary eyes focused on Feena's. "Nice dog," he slurred and reached out for her.

She slipped away from his hand and trotted after her quarry, taking more care as she ran. She stayed close to the shadows, and low. The man walked briskly, almost nervously. It seemed that he knew where he was going, but that he wasn't entirely eager to get thereor to be seen on his way.

He finally stopped again at the mouth of an alley. Feena curled into a doorway and watched as he looked furtively in all directionsup and down the street as well as up into the Stiltways abovethen stepped quickly into the shadows. He'd reached his destination. She darted up to the mouth of the alley and peered down it.

Beyond its narrow neck of a mouth, the alley opened up into a small courtyard that been practically buried by the platforms and walkways above it. Noise and some illumination drifted down from the levels overhead. Feena's quarry stood in the freckled shadows, a large dark flask in one hand as he fumbled with the heavy wooden cover on a low stone structure. A number of pipes pierced the wood, rising up and into the shadows, some passing into buildings, others ending in public hand pumps. A well.

Moonmaiden's grace, Feena cursed, if he pours the poison in there

The wooden cover wasn't yielding to one hand. The man set the flask on the ground and hauled at the cover with both hands. It groaned and began to shift. Feena reached into her spirit, seeking the point of balance between woman and wolfand shook herself.

Her chain and the battered symbol of Selune jingled softly.

The man started and the wooden cover slipped from his fingers.

"Who's there?" he called, peering back into the alley. Without taking his eyes away, he bent down, groping for the flask.

Feena flung herself down the alley, exploding out into the courtyard on legs as long and as powerful as a human's, but bent like those of a wolf. She still had a wolfs tail and a wolfs head, as well, but her torso and arms were those" of a woman for all that they rippled with short reddish fur. Her hands, however, were huge, her fingers long, thick, and tipped with claws. Her muzzle all but incapable of forming human words, she let out a dangerous snarl as she leaped.

The man gasped and jerked back toward one of the courtyard's walls. Feena landed with a thump on the wooden cover of the well and spun around to face him.

He clutched the flask in his hand. She growled and stretched out clawed fingers. The man's eyes darted around the tiny courtyard as he sought a way past her. From the top of the well, however, she commanded the space. He started to take a step and she jumped forward to block his way.

The dim light from above flashed on her medallion. The reflected light caught his eyesand they widened.

"Selunite!" he gasped, pulling away. His features hardened into sneering resolve. "You won't have me, moon-bitch!"

Jerking the stopper free, he raised the flask to his lips and drank greedily.

Startled, Feena froze. When finally she barked and lunged forward to bat the flask away, it was too late. Only a few drops of the dark, acrid liquid splattered across the man's face. His eyes opened wide, the pupils huge, and he let out a strangled, gasping rattle before thrashing back against the wall. Dark froth oozed out of his mouth and across his lips. One hand clawed at his neck and a pendant there.

"Shar…" he slurred.

Horrified, Feena stepped away as he stumbled off his feet, fell to the ground, and lay still.

Moonmaiden's grace, she silently cursed.

Feena bent down swiftly and touched his neck, feeling for a pulse as best she could with her clumsy taloned fingers.

Nothinghe was already dead. But his dying words

She seized his hand and pulled against muscles drawn as rigid as steel by the poison. The dead man's fingers loosened enough to allow the pendant he had seized to fall free. A wooden disk, its rim dark but its center even darker. By better light, Feena knew it would be black surrounded by purple.

A follower of Shar.

Feena let his hand drop and scrambled for the flask as it spun slowly in the shadows. Spilled poison stained the neck and sides. She picked it up carefully, holding it in a beam of pale light from above. A scrap of paper with crude writing had been pasted to the flask's side.

"For the glory of the Lady of Loss," it read. "Let all know her power and despair."

Sharrans. There were Sharrans in Yhaunn.

The flask's stopper had rolled out of the dead man's other hand. Feena retrieved it and replaced it in the flask. A cold feeling was forming in the pit of her belly. If the enemies of Selune were operating in the city, there was certain to be trouble.

But at the same time, her thin, wolfs lips drew back and she bared her teeth in grim satisfaction. Archives for Dhauna, social graces for Mifano, accounts for Velsinorea fight for Feena. Finally, something she could handle without feeling like a complete fool. Feena touched one clawed hand to the medallion around her throat as she stood and turned away from the poisoned corpse.

Bright Lady of the Night, she thought, thank you! — amp; The creature turned away. On one of the walkways overlooking the courtyard and its well, Variance Amatick waited another moment, then parted the shadows that had concealed her. A Selunite and a werewolf. So what she had been told was not an exaggeration.

"I hadn't expected to find you hunting the night, Moonmistress-Designate," she murmured to herself.

She took a step forward into shadowand emerged on the ground in the courtyard. The dead man's eyes stared up at her. It was a nobler death than she would have given him. A score of deaths and a flask proclaiming the glory of Shar would have been a good lure. The body of a fanatical Sharran cultist would have been even better.

But a Selunite to witness and stop the whole affair before Variance even had to dirty her hands, that was a gift from Shar herself.

That the well had not been poisoned was no great loss. A score of people had been spared death that night, but it would come for them eventually. The Selunite had seen and heard all that was necessary. Moonshadow Hall would have to respond.

Still, there seemed little point in wasting a corpse when it could be used to create even more havoc and confusion.

Variance knelt down and broke the cord around the dead man's neck, tugging it and the symbol of Shar away. She tucked both into a fold of her own mantle. The Selunites knew their enemy, but no one else needed to.

"Have no fear," she told the corpse. "The Lady of Loss will know your soul. There's just one more sacrifice for you to make."

She rose and stepped back. Whispering a prayer to Shar, she crooked two fingers as if beckoning someone. Or something.

Shadows swirled and condensed into a massive black dog with a hide like night itself. Variance pointed at the cultist's body.