Mistress of the Night

CHAPTER 4

What?" Feena asked, looking from Velsinore to Mifano in stupefied disbelief.

"There are no Sharrans in Yhaunn, Feena," Mifano insisted. "We'd know if there were."

Sitting beside him, Velsinore nodded her agreement. Feena clenched her hands and her fingernails scraped across the polished top of the table around which the three of them sat. As soon as Moonshadow Hall had begun stirring that morning, she had commandeered one of its receiving rooms for the meeting. Her intention had been to keep unnecessary panic from spreading through the junior members of the temple. It was beginning to look increasingly like the privacy would serve instead to keep word from spreading of another clash with Mifano and Velsinore.

"But I told you what I saw," Feena growled. She lifted one hand and pointed at the flask that stood in the center of the table. Getting it back to Moonshadow Hall had not been easy. Shifting into wolf form and carrying the flaskpoison lingering within itin her mouth had been out of the question, of course. Shifting to human form would have left her naked. She had been forced to duck through alleys and shadows in her monstrous hybrid shape all the way back to the temple and her waiting clothes. "You can read the inscription on that yourself."

"A badly-written label is hardly an inscription," Mifano said as he picked up the flask again. "Anyone could have written this and stuck it to the flask. Anyone could have gone to a less than ethical alchemist and bought the poison. Anyone can invoke Shar's name if they choose to." He set the flask down. "It's not a cult, Feena. I think you stumbled across a misguided madman working on his own."

"But there could be a cult at work," protested Feena. "How do you know there isn't?"

Velsinore leaned forward. Her face was cross. "Because we do," she said. "Honestly, do you think we don't take the threat of Shar's followers seriously? We monitor every tale and rumor that passes through Yhaunnand around it, too. We have faithful who aid us in watching. We're vigilant, Feena! You know the spoor of Malar's servants, don't you? You know when they come to Arch Wood. If there was any sign of a Sharran cult spreading in the city, we would have known."

"This is a sign!" Feena banged the table.

"No, it isn't!"

"Sisters!" snapped Mifano.

Feena caught her tongue. Across the table, Velsinore stiffened into silence. Mifano sighed and set the flask down.

"Feena," he said. "I don't want you to think that we're belittling what you did last night. It's like the shack you mentioned by the docksby checking that disease now, we prevent a plague. You did the same thing. Shar's evil found a single servant, her toehold in the city. You broke that toehold. And how many people would have died if that well had been poisoned? You saved them, too."

"But I… that wasn't…" Feena began. Words failed her. She pressed her hands over her face and groaned in frustration. "Oh!"

"I'm glad you think so highly of your service to Selune," said Velsinore as she rose from the table. "Someone else probably would have let such praise go to her head!" She swept out of the room.

At least the bitterness and resentment in the tall priestess' voice was plain.

Mifano's cheer simply rang hollow as he stood and asked, "What would you like done with the remaining poison, Feena? A victory toast for the heroine of the hour, Moonshadow Hall's shield against Shar? You didn't even have to lay a hand on that cultisthe killed himself just at the sight of you!"

Feena glared at him over the tops of her fingers and said, "Get rid of it, Mifano."

"As you wish," he replied, scooping up the vial. "I'll return the flask to you, though, shall I? It will make a wonderful souvenir."

"Get out," Feena snarled.

Mifano slid gracefully out the door, then leaned back in.

"By the way," he said, "Lady Monstaed has sent her regretsshe won't be able to meet with you today. Maybe she heard about what happened at Ladysluck Tower yesterday. Well done."

He vanished again. Feena let him get a good long head start before standing and following.

What was I thinking last night? That Selune guided me to a problem I was capable of dealing with?

"Moonmaiden's grace," Feena cursed under breath. "Could I really have been that wrong?"

As much as she hated to admit it, Velsinore's argument made sensethe clergy of Moonshadow Hall probably would have already found a Sharran cult if one was operating in Yhaunn. They were attuned to the activities of

Selune's enemies. Mifano made sense too. Maybe she had stopped Shar's power before it could grow behind a single madman. Maybe that had been Selune's only intent, guiding her to prevent the deaths of innocent Yhauntans. Maybe she was a hero.

So why didn't she feel like one?

She needed advice. She needed to talk to Dhauna Myritar. Feena turned her path toward the cloisters and a short cut across the inner courtyard. First thing that morning, she had written a message, relating what had happened and what she intended to do, and dispatched a novice to deliver it while she met with Velsinore and Mifano. Feena blew out her breath in a long sigh. Having spoken with the pair of them, she felt like she needed the High Moonmistress more than ever!

Except Dhauna found her first. Feena was halfway across the courtyard when the high priestess stepped through the gate of the waning half moon and into the morning sunlight. She was swinging her canes stiffly, moving like a dwarf with vengeance in mind. Her face was grim. Feena hurried to her.

"Mother Dhauna"

Dhauna lashed out with a cane as soon as Feena came within reach. The blow had little force behind it, but Feena still gasped and stumbled back. Dhauna tottered after her, cane flailing.

"You stupid girl!" she screeched. "What are you trying to do? What are you trying to do?"

A wild swing threw the old woman off balance. Feena stepped in and caught her, holding her upright. From around the courtyard and within the cloisters, an assortment of clergy, acolytes, novices, and visitors to the temple were staring at them.

"Dhauna," she hissed. "What's wrong?"

"You!" spat the high priestess. "Running around the city in your wolf form! I read your messagewhat were you thinking? I promised your mother that so long as you were at Moonshadow Hall, I wouldn't let you out of the temple in anything but your human shape."

Feena's eyes went wide. "I'm… I'm sorry, Mother Dhauna," she said. "It won't happen again."

An apology was the only thing Feena could think of. She swallowed and wrapped her arm around Dhauna's thin shoulders.

"Here," said Feena, "sit with me and we'll talk about it."

She nodded to the worn stone rim of the sacred pool. The High Moonmistress relaxed a little and followed as she drew her along. Feena glanced around and caught the eye of the nearest novice.

"Find Julith!" Feena hissed. "Quickly!"

The girl nodded and sprinted off. Other priestesses were gathering, concern on their faces. Feena warned them away with a shake of her head. She eased Dhauna down. "You made that promise a long time ago, Mother Dhauna," she murmured. "My mother brought me to Moonshadow Hall as a girl."

Dhauna stared at her a moment then grunted, "I know that." Her voice was soft. Feena hoped that she was finished shouting. "I'm talking about last night. You said you encountered a follower of Shar."

Feena clenched her jaw. Like a cloud passing over the sun, the High Moonmistress seemed lucid again.

"Maybe it would be better to discuss this somewhere" Feena began.

Dhauna knocked her cane against the ground impatiently. "I came looking for you, didn't I? Tell me now."

Or not so lucid after all. Feena swallowed. Maybe it was better to humor her. None of the other priestesses were close enough to overhear their conversation.

"I did encounter a Sharran," Feena said cautiously. "I thought maybe there was a cult at work."

"Impossible," Dhauna said without hesitation. "We would have detected a Sharran cult before now."

Feena held back a grimace.

"Velsinore and Mifano said the same thing," she said. She hesitated for a moment, then met the old priestess's gaze, and asked as gently as she could manage, "But what about your dreams? The darkness you described. Do you think it could be a warning about Sharran?"

Dhauna stiffened, silencing Feena. "Selune's warning is clear," said the aged priestess. "It's not Shar we need to be concerned with."

Her voice threatened to climb once more.

"Mother Dhauna, please…" Feena said soothingly.

Dhauna grabbed her hand. "Sister, against sister" she said urgently. "Temples divided." Her eyes darted toward the priestesses gathered nearby. "One of them working against us. Or all of them." She glanced back to Feena. "But Shar? No, not Shar. Not this time."

She looked up again and smiled just as Julith pushed past the gawking priestesses and hurried over to them.

"You keep finding me here, Julith!" Dhauna called.

"You should tell me when you feel like going for a walk, Mother Dhauna," Julith said with brittle levity. She reached out and helped the High Moonmistress stand then glanced at Feena. "Feena…?"

"I'll tell you inside," Feena murmured as she stood.

"No," Julith said, "it's not that. I was looking for you, too. High Luck Shoondeep from Ladysluck Tower is here with an officer of the city guard Jhezzail is holding them just inside the outer gate. They're asking to speak to the High Moonmistress."

Feena and Dhauna Myritar glanced at each other. Dhauna shook her head wearily. "Go, Feena," she said. "Whatever they want, you can deal with it."

Feena choked back a curse. How could a day that had started off with such promise have gone so wrong so quickly? She ran from the courtyard through the nearest gate, ignoring the stares of the gathered clergy. She couldn't imagine that the chubby high priest of Tymora was happy at being held back by a mere acolyte.

He wasn't, but Jhezzail was standing her ground with the air of a seasoned sentry as Colle Shoondeep seethed and ranted. Somehow, though, the High Luck managed to look even more enraged when Feena appeared and dismissed the girl. He stepped back coldly, drawing his robes around himself. The grizzled man wearing the crest of Yhaunn who accompanied himthe guard officer, Feena guessedstared at her in confusion. He seemed ready to ask something, but Colle caught his eye and waved one chubby finger in a gesture of caution. The guard's eyes widened slightly. Feena glanced down at herself, aware for the first time that she was still wearing her peasant blouse and homespun skirt. Had the man mistaken her for a servant? She grimaced.

"What can I do for you, High Luck?" Feena asked with all the grace she could muster.

"We need to see Dhauna Myritar, Moonmistress-Designate," Colle said. "It is a serious matter that requires her attention." He indicated the guard. "This is Guard Captain Manas."

Feena raised an eyebrow and asked, "Captain?"

"As I said, this is a serious matter," Colle said, standing straight. "We need to see the High Moonmistress."

Feena crossed her arms and replied, "The High Moonmistress isn't seeing anyone. Whatever your problem is, I can deal with it."

"Not this," said Manas. His voice was surprisingly pleasant, especially compared to the High Luck's. "This concerns the High Moonmistress alone."

"Dhauna Myritar has chosen me to act on her behalf," Feena growled. "What concerns her concerns me."

Colle's face flushed angrily. "More true than you" he spat, then bit off his words abruptly.

Feena's eyes opened wide and she looked between the two men.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

Manas glanced at Colle as if seeking permission for something. The priest pressed his lips together and gave a little shake of his head, but the guard captain turned back to Feena.

"Moonmistress, you're a werewolf, aren't you?"

Feena actually jumped a little, startled by the blunt-ness of the question. Most people would have danced around the matter or tried to ignore it. In an instant she understood both the guard captain's tension and his surprise at seeing her. He hadn't mistaken her for a servant, she realizedhe had simply been shocked to find himself face to face with her. And Colle… it seemed the priest of Tymora had indeed recognized her as a werewolf at the council of temples the day before. He was already looking triumphant at her discomfort. Feena bit back another growl as one rose in her throat and drew herself up, matching Colle's stance.

"I have been blessed by Selune," she said, using Mifa-no's expression for her shapechanging. "What of it?"

"The guard has received a scattering of reports this morning of sightings of a creature seen lurking in the shadows around the city last night. A few of the reports described a wolfunusual enough in the heart of the citybut others described the creature as walking onto two legs, a human with the head and tail of a wolf." Manas tucked his thumbs into his sword belt. "In short, Moonmistress, the typical description of a werewolf."

Feena sucked in her breath. Apparently she hadn't been quite so stealthy as she thought. And if Colle had known the day before what she was…

The High Luck must have read her glare.

"Fortunately," he said, "word of the same sightings reached my ears as well. Naturally I went to the guard to offer my services and to tell them what I knew."

He tried to make his voice sound concerned, but didn't quite manage to disguise a gloating note. The priest had led the guard right to her.

"Naturally," Feena snapped.

"There's more, Moonmistress," Manas added. "A man's body was found just before dawn near Stonecutters Well "in the Stiltways, the area where most of the reports were made. He had been mauled by some kind of animal."

"Mauled?" Feena swung around to him. A body found by a well in the Stiltways? It sounded like it could be the Sharranbut she hadn't touched the man. "You think I…?"

Manas shook his head. "No, Moonmistress. Not necessarily. But the coincidence is remarkablea man mauled, a werewolf sighted…" His hands shifted on his belt. "Your recent arrival in Yhaunn…"

What was going on? Feena thought. The Sharran had been dead practically before she reached him, and she would never mutilate a corpselet alone one with poison coursing through it. Someone or something else must have mauled the corpse after she left. But why?

For a moment, she considered relating what she'd learned the night before. A Sharran cult was a danger to everyone. Except that there was no cult, was there? Velsinore, Mifano, and even Dhauna had made that clear. She looked at Manas and Colle. The faces of both men were hard, Colle's with unbecoming glee, Manas's with professional distance. Something else occurred to Feena as wellshe'd left Shar's disk clutched in the corpse's hand. If the disk had been found, surely they would have mentioned it.

Even if she could convince them that the man had been a Sharran cultist and a follower of the immortal enemy of Selune, could any dispute justify the ravaged body that had been found? If she confessed to what had happened, Feena realized, she'd be forced to defend what hadn't.

She must have been silent too long. Manas and Colle exchanged another glance. The guard captain pulled his thumbs from his belt.

"Moonmistress," he said, "can you answer some questions for us?"

Feena's tongue felt as if it were stuck to the roof of her mouth.

"Such as?" she asked. "Where were you last night?"

"She was with me," called Julith. The dark-haired priestess stepped out from the depths of the temple. She walked with grace and her voice was steady, but her face was flushed. She must have run all the way back down to the gate from Dhauna's quarters, Feena realized. Julith stopped just on the other side of the guard captain and the High Luck, forcing them to divide their attention between her and Feena. "We were here, at Moonshadow Hall."

"All night?" Manas asked her.

Julith nodded and said, "We were holding vigil for the health of the High Moonmistress." She inclined her head toward Colle. "I'm sure the High Luck has told you Dhauna Myritar's health has failed her of late? It's most gratifying to see the concern that the high clergy of Yhaunn share for each other."

There wasn't a trace of irony in her voiceshe could have been offering Colle genuine praiseyet the statement pushed the weight of the visit smoothly onto the high priest and left him red-faced and sputtering. Manas looked back to Feena.

"Were you holding vigil here last night?" he asked

Feena swallowed. Did Julith have a plan? She hoped so.

"Yes," she lied.

Manas raised an eyebrow. Colle's sputtering ground down into indignation and he snapped, "An invocation to Tymora would enforce the truth, Manas!"

Feena's heart lurched, but Julith's response was swift and calm. "High Luck," she asked, "are you questioning the honesty of Selune's priestesses within her own temple? Would you ask the same of Dhauna Myritar if she were here?"

Colle's mouth opened, then closed as he struggled for words in the face of Julith's serene challenge. "I would never question the High. Moonmistress" he managed finally, but Julith cut him off again.

"Then why do you question the Moonmistress-Designate? She is the High Moonmistress's voice and her chosen successor at Moonshadow Hall." Julith caught Feena's eye as she spoke. "Challenging her is the same as challenging Dhauna Myritar herself!"

Moonmaiden's grace, Feena cursed silently as she caught the priestess's meaning, do you know what you're asking, Julith? Selune give charm to my lying tongue!

The priestess of a country village might be intimidated by a guard captain of Yhaunn and a high priest of Tymorabut not the Moonmistress-Designate of Moonshadow Hall. She had authority. She needed to use it. Dredging up memories of Dhauna in her prime, Feena raised her chin and looked first Manas, then Colle, directly in the eye.

"You don't think I'm telling the truth?" she demanded. Tve spoken within the holy confines of Moonshadow Halland you doubt me?"

Selune must have heard her prayer, because Colle actually flinched at her vehemence, though Manas seemed to take it in stride.

"No, Moonmistress," he said, "but it is necessary that we investigate such a suspicious death."

"Which you have done by calling both my honor and Selune's sacred gift into question." Feena faced down the guard captain. To her surprise, it didn't feel that much different from facing down another wolf. "I'll be blunt, Captain Manas. I can see that's a quality you appreciate." She leaned closer and said, "I serve Selune and my service is not gentle. I have killed in her name and in defense of the innocent. But this man you've foundI did not kill him." She glanced at Colle and growled, "Do you still feel the need to test the truth of that, High Luck?"

The high priest shook his head. Feena looked at Manas. The guard captain's face was blank with studied disciplineand perhaps a little respect.

"And you?" Feena asked.

"Moonmistress, you've answered all of my questions." He took a step back and gave her a sharp half-bow. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, guard captain."

"If we should discover that there is a werewolf at large in Yhaunn, may I call on your expertise?"

Feena restrained a blink of surprise. "Of course," she said. "Selune guide your search."

Manas turned to go, summoning Colle after him with a hard glance. The High Luck stared in angry shock at

Feena, then scurried after the guard captain. The two were exchanging angry words when they stepped out of the gate. Feena waited until they were out of sight entirely before letting out a sigh of relief.

"I think you made an enemy in Colle Shoondeep today, Feena," Julith said.

"He was. no friend to begin with," Feena replied. She slumped back against the nearest wall and pushed her fingers through her hair. "Thank you."

"Whispering in ceremony and now lying to city guards and high priests," Julith said through a thin smile. "Feena, you're a terrible influence."

Feena tried to echo the smile, but couldn't quite manage it.

Jarull was waiting in the cool shadow of the stone wall. Keph twitched Quick out of the way and settled down beside him.

"I got your note this morning," Keph said. "What is it?"

"Cyrume is dead."

Keph blinked at the big man.

Jarull growled and added, "The potter from the south side of the city?"

"Oh," Keph breathed.

The past several days had been a heady whirl for Keph. Jarull had introduced him to a number of new peopleall followers of Shar. Faces and names had started to blur in Keph's mind. His memory hadn't been helped by nights spent drinking with Jarull and some of his new friends. He and Jarull weren't the only disaffected young people of Yhaunn. Cyrume the potter hadn't been among Jarull's immediate circle, but Keph thought he could picture him. He had seemed disturbingly intense.

"What happened to him?"

"He was found in the Stiltways last night," Jarull said.

Keph sat up sharply and asked, "That was him?"

Cold wrapped around his chest. The servants at Fourstaves House had been gossiping about the body found in the Stiltways. According to them, it had been torn to bloody shreds and half devoured. Panic was said to be spreading through the lower levels of the Stiltways.

"How… what…?"

"Sehinites," said Jarull. Keph blinked at him again.

"Followers of Selune?" In spite of his horror, he felt his mouth twitch almost into a smile. "That can't be right. I know Sehinites and Sharrans don't like each other, but have you seen the priestesses of Moonshadow Hall?"

Jarull glared at him and said, "You think they're all mercy and innocence? I've heard they harbor werewolves, Keph. They think the moon goddess blesses lycanthropes." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Moonshadow Hall. "That place is probably as much a kennel as a temple!"

"Dark," Keph muttered. He glanced at Jarull. "How did they know Cyrume was a Sharran?" he asked. "If it was Selunite werewolves that killed him, can they…?"

He touched his nose. Keph didn't think he had to ask the obvious question. If the Sehinites could tellcould smell maybethat Cyrume was a Sharran, what was to stop them from coming for Jarull? Or maybe even for Keph himself eventually?

Jarull grunted and shook his head. "They can't sniff out Sharrans," he said. "You don't have to worry about that. Cyrume was on the goddess's business. The Selunites ripped him apart to stop him." He spat into the dust. "They didn't have to. They could probably have just taken him to the guard. But they killed him." He squinted, glaring at Keph through narrowed eyes. "Never trust a Selunite, Keph."

Keph nodded slowly.

"What now?" he asked. "Will you have some kind of memorial?"

Jarull shrugged and said, "I don't know. Maybe. I haven't been part of the cult that long." He twisted around and rose to his feet. "Come with me. I sent you that note because there's someone who wants to meet you."

"Who?" Keph stood as well.

"Bolan."

Keph drew a sharp breath and dashed after Jarull. Of the big man's Sharran friends, there was one name Keph hadn't forgotten, even if he hadn't yet seen a face to place with it. Bolan was the closest thing to a high priest that the followers of Shar in Yhaunn had, the leader of their secretive cult.

And Bolan, Keph had quickly gathered, didn't meet with just anybody.

Jarull set a brisk pace through the heat of the afternoon. Though they stuck to the relative cool of the shadows, Keph was sweating heavily before long. Jarull, however, barely seemed to notice the heat at all. Not a drop of sweat stood out on his pale skin. When Keph suggested a break in a nearby cellar tavern, a respite from the heat, the big man barely gave him a glance.

"When Bolan wants to see you," Jarull said over his shoulder, "you don't keep him waiting."

Their destination was halfway across the city, in one of Yhaunn's poorer neighborhoods. Jarull stopped and nodded at a narrow, unassuming house. The building was modest, in slightly better repair than those around it. Keph noticed, however, that the children playing on the street gave it a wide berth, and that a group of old men sitting on a plank bench nearby offered dark looks when they saw him and Jarull pause. Keph resisted the urge conceal his face.

"Do they know about Bolan here?" he whispered to Jarull.

"They don't know what we know." He went up to the door and opened it without knocking. Keph followed him through.

The air inside the house was blessedly coolbut it also stank. Keph's nose crinkled immediately. The smell was almost like his family's laboratories, but at the same time different. Wizards' laboratories tended to smell dry and faded, like old herbs, or else wet and rancid like rotting meat. Bolan's house had a different scent entirely: dark and heavy, a little bit metallic, a little bit like minerals. Keph could smell the sting of vinegar and the burning stench of sulfur, along with other odors he couldn't quite identify.

"Alchemy…" Keph muttered.

"Yes."

A man stepped out from a curtained doorway and Keph resisted the urge to stare. Short legs and a bullish neck made the man look as squat as a dwarf. His shoulders were round and thick, his chest and belly fat like a barrel. His appearance might have been comical if not for the porcelain smoothness of his face. He had no wrinkles or stubble, and Keph was reasonably certain the sun hadn't touched his face in months. His head was bald on top, but a long fringe of unnaturally black and glossy hair was gathered in a tight braid that hung down his back. Jarull offered him an obeisance. After a heartbeat, Keph did the same.

Bolan grunted and said, "He's quick, isn't he?"

Jarull nodded silently. Keph waited as the squat alchemist looked him over then held out his hand.

"Let me see your rapier," he said.

Keph glanced at Jarull. His friend gave him a pointed glare and jerked his head toward Bolan. Keph drew Quick and handed her to Bolan. In contrast to the eerie perfection of his face, the alchemist's fingers were stained yellow and purple-black. He plucked Quick out of Keph's grasp and held her up, examining not the blade as a swordsman might, but rather the metal itself. After a moment, he grunted, then took the tip of the rapier between rough fingers and flexed the blade. Keph winced.

Bolan's dark eyes shot to him immediately.

"Too concerned with material things," he said. "Illusion. The Lady of Loss teaches otherwise."

He flexed Quick several more times, watching him closely. Keph struggled to keep his expression neutral..

Bolan shrugged and said, "You'll learn."

He tossed the rapier back at Keph, who started to reach for it then snatched his hand back out of the way of the tumbling blade. Quick clattered to the floor. He scooped it upand found Bolan nodding.

"Sensible enough to know when you could be hurt." His eyes glittered and he asked, "If your rapier had been falling into a pool of acid, would you have tried to catch it?"

He's testing me, Keph realized. For a heartbeat, rage at being manipulated flashed through him. He held it in check, forcing his face and his eyes to remain calm. Bolan's fine eyebrows arched slightly.

"Well?" he asked. "Would you risk injury to save your sword from destruction?"

If he said yes, it would contradict Bolan's comment that material things weren't important. But no seemed too obvious an answer as well.

"That depends," Keph said finally, "on whether I needed it to defend myself."

Bolan's eyebrows rose higher. Keph waited for an answer. The alchemist, however, didn't give him one. He just turned and stepped back to the curtained doorway.

"Come through," he said, holding the curtain aside as Keph stepped past him.

The mineral smell was even stronger beyond the doorway, the hot stink of a burning furnace underlying it. On shadowy shelves around the room boxes, bins, and jars peered down. A variety of heavy glassware was meticulously arranged on a long, marble-topped workbench. A low rack held books. Keph couldn't help but think of Roderio's laboratory. He froze, the image of his brother's burned facenow bandaged and healing after the attentions of priestswashing over him.

"Ah," said Bolan from behind him. "How insensitive of me. This room must have unpleasant resonances for you."

Keph turned around. Bolan was watching him. So, from behind the alchemist, was Jarull. His friend must have told Bolan about Roderio's accident.

"No," Keph said firmly, hardening his heart. "Nothing unpleasant at all."

Bolan's flawless face didn't shift, but somehow he managed to convey the impression of a prankster disappointed at the failure of a trick. He gestured with his stained fingers, summoning Keph back.

"Do you know where Wedge Street is?" Bolan asked. When Keph nodded he continued, "There's an alley off its north side. Wait there at full dark after sunset tomorrow night." The alchemist swept an arm toward the door to the street. "You can go now."

They were back in the bright heat of the afternoon before Keph even had time to blink. Squinting against the sudden glare, he twisted around just in time to see the door slam behind them. He looked up at Jarull. The big man was smiling grimly.

"Good job," he said. "It isn't easy to rattle Bolan."

Keph rubbed his eyes and said, "Jarull, was that what I think it was?"

Jarull nodded. "An invitation."

Down the street, the old men were staring at them again.

Jarull led Keph away from Bolan's house, strolling more casually, as if pleased that his friend had met with the alchemist's approval. Keph took a last look over his shoulder.

"That was… faster than I expected."

"Bolan isn't a patient man," Jarull replied.

"That's not what I mean," Keph said. "I thought it would take some time before the offer was even extended. You just told me about the cult a few days ago!"

Jarull was silent for several paces, then said, "Maybe it has something to do with Cyrume's death. Maybe Bolan is recruiting for a war against the Sehinites."

Keph choked. "He would do that?"

Jarull shook his head and replied, "I don't think he would. But I've heard from some of the others that Bolan hasn't been himself lately. He's normally very cautious-he has to be or the Sehinites would have uncovered us months ago." Jarull shook his head. "There's a woman," he said. "A visitor to the cult. She's only been around a little more than a month. Some of the others don't like her, but I trust her more than Bolan." He clenched his fist. "Power flows off her like a shadow."

"Do you think she's pushing him to bring in new worshipers?"

"I think she's pushing him to do more than that. The mission Cyrume was on last nightthat was her idea."."What's her name?" Keph asked.

"Variance. You may meet her tomorrow night."

"Maybe I will," agreed Keph. "Are you going to be there?"

"I'll wait with you in the alley," Jarull promised.

They walked for a few blocks in silence. Keph watched Jarull out of the corner of his eye. The big man stalked from shadow to shadow with as much strength as Keph had ever seen in him. Maybe even morethere was a new determination to him, a fire Keph could feel every time they talked. At the same time, Jarull was different. More distant. Harder. Shar had changed Jarull. Keph bit his lip.

"Jarull, this invitation…?"

Jarull paused and looked down at him. "Keph," he said, "if you're having second thoughts, now is not the time. An invitation like Bolan's is only extended once and if you choose not to accept it…" He gritted his teeth. "The cult has to be protected, Keph. It's too late to back out now."

Keph snorted and spun around to walk backward, facing him. "Jarull, when have I ever backed out of anything?"

Jarull smiled like a shark and said, "Never."

"That's right."

Keph turned back around and swaggered onward.