Mistress of the Night (9 page)

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 Velsinore—a 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! -&-

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 shadow—and 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.

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 flask—poison lingering within it—in 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 Yhaunn—and 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 docks—by 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 cultist—he 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 regrets—she 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 sense—the 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 message—what 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 him—the guard officer, Feena guessed—stared 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.