Mina had not wanted to talk about that fleeting and disturbing visit. She could not get the monk’s face out of her mind. Even now, bitterly unhappy and grieving, Mina could see the man’s eyes. She did not love the monk. She did not think of him in that way at all. She had looked into his eyes and she had seen that he knew her. Just as the dragon knew her.
I am keeping secrets from my lord, Mina admitted to herself, consumed with guilt. Not the secrets of which he accuses me. Still, does it matter? Perhaps I should tell him the truth, tell him why I cannot go back to the Tower. Tell him it is the dragon who frightens me. The dragon and her terrible riddles.
Terrible—because Mina could not answer them.
But the monk could.
Chemosh would not understand. He would mock her or, worse, he would not believe her. Mina, who had slain the powerful Dragon Overlord, Malys, afraid of an elderly, practically toothless sea dragon? Yet Mina was afraid. Her stomach shriveled whenever she heard that reptile voice ask, “Who are you? Where did you come from?”
Chemosh emerged into the great hall to find Krell just entering. Several of the Beloved milled about aimlessly, some calling for ale, others demanding food. A few glanced up at the Lord of Death, but they looked away without interest. They paid no attention at all to Krell, who cursed them and shook his mailed fist at them. They paid no attention to each other, and that was strangest of all.
“You might as well field a regiment of gully dwarves, my lord,” Krell growled. “These numbskulls you have created—”
“Shut up,” Chemosh ordered, for, at the moment, Mina was walking down the stairs. She was very pale and had obviously been crying, for her eyes were red and there were traces of tears on her cheeks. Chemosh felt a stab of remorse. He knew he was being unfair to her. He didn’t truly believe she had stolen artifacts and was keeping them from him. He’d said that to hurt her. He needed to lash out, hurt someone.
Nothing was going right for him. None of his grand schemes were turning out as he’d expected. Nuitari laughed at him. Zeboim mocked him. Sargonnas, who was currently the most powerful god in the Dark Pantheon, lorded it over him. The White Lady, Mishakal, had recently come at him in a blaze of blue-white fury, demanding that he destroy his Beloved or face the consequences. He’d spurned her, of course. She’d left him with a warning that her clerics were declaring open war on his followers and it was her intent to wipe all his disciples off the face of Krynn.
She could not easily destroy his Beloved; he’d seen to that, but Che-mosh did not have all that many living followers, and he was starting to realize their value.
He was brooding on this and his other troubles, when Krell suddenly nudged him.
“My lord,” the death knight said softly. “Look at that!”
The Beloved had, only moments before, been roaming aimlessly about the hall. Some had even bumped into the Lord of Death and never noticed. Now, however, the Beloved were still. They were silent. Their attention was fixed.
“Mma!”
Some spoke her name in reverence.
“Mma!”
Others cried it in agony.
“Mina . . .”
No matter whether spoken in admiration or in supplication or in dread, her name was on the dead lips of all the Beloved.
Her name. Not the name of their god, their lord. Not the name of Chemosh.
Mina stared in astonishment at the throng of Beloved that pressed around the staircase and lifted their hands to her and called out her name.
“No,” Mina said to them in confusion. “Do not come to me. I am not your lord.. . .”
She felt Chemosh s presence, felt it pierce her like a thrown spear. She raised her head, stricken, to meet his gaze.
Hot blood flooded her face. The hot blood of guilt. “Mina, Mina . . .” The Beloved began chanting her name. “Kiss me again!” cried some, and “Destroy me!” wailed others. Chemosh stood there, watching, amazed.
“My lord!” Mina’s despairing voice rose over the growing tumult. She ran down the stairs, tried to approach him, but the Beloved surged around her, desperate to touch her, plead with her, curse her.
Chemosh recalled a conversation he had overheard between Mina and the minotaur, Galdar, who had been her loyal friend.
“I raised an army of the dead,” said Mina. “I fought and killed two mighty dragons. I conquered the elves and brought them under the heel of my hoot. I conquered the Solamnics and saw them run from me like whipped dogs. I made the Dark Knights a power to he feared and respected!”
“All in the name of Takhisis” said Galdar. “I wanted it to he in my name. . . .” I wanted it to be in my name.
“Silence!” Mina’s voice rang through the hall. “Stand aside. Do not touch me.”
At her order, the Beloved fell back.
“Chemosh is your lord,” Mina continued, and her guilt-ridden gaze went to him, standing at the opposite end of the hall. “He is the one who gave you the gift of unending life. I am but the bearer of his gift. Never forget that.”
None of the Beloved said a word. They stood aside, allowing her to pass.
Krell snorted. “She thinks she’s so smart. Let her command your sorry excuse for an army, my lord.”
The death knight had no idea how close he came to being snapped in twain and tossed into oblivion. Chemosh contained his fury, however.
Mina walked swiftly through the throng of the Beloved. She crossed the hall, her pace increasing. Reaching him, she fell to her knees before him.
“My lord, please do not be angry with me! They don’t know what they are saying—”
“I am not angry, Mina.” Chemosh took hold of her hands and raised her to her feet. “In truth, I am the one who should be asking for your forgiveness, my love.”
He kissed her hands then kissed her lips. “I am in an ill humor these days. I took out my frustration and anger on you. I am sorry.”
Mina’s amber eyes shone with pleasure and, he noted, relief.
“My lord, I love you dearly,” she said softly. “Believe that if you believe nothing else.”
“I do,” he assured her, stroking her auburn hair. “Now, go to our chamber and make yourself lovely for me. I will join you shortly.”
“Come to me soon, my lord,” she said and, giving him a lingering kiss, she left him.
Chemosh looked with annoyance at the Beloved who, now that Mina was gone, were once more milling about. Scowling, he made a peremptory gesture to Krell.
The death knight scented blood, and he came forward with alacrity. “What is your command, my lord?”
“She is up to something, and I need to know what. You will watch her, Krell,” said Chemosh. “Day and night. I want to know her every movement. I want to hear her every word.”
“You will have the information, my lord.”
“She must not suspect she is being spied upon,” Chemosh cautioned. “You cannot go bumbling about, rattling and clanking like a steam-powered golem created by some mad gnome. Can manage that, Krell?”
“Yes, my lord,” Ausric Krell assured him.
Chemosh saw the fiery glow of hatred burning in the empty eye sockets, and his doubts were satisfied. Krell had not forgotten that Mina had bested him in his own tower, taken him by surprise, nearly destroyed him. Nor would he forget that the Beloved had meekly obeyed her commands, while they’d scoffed at his.
“You can rely on me, my lord.”
“Good,” said Chemosh.
Mina sat before a mirror in her bedchamber, brushing her long auburn hair. She wore a gown of finest silk that her lord had given her. Mina’s heart beat fast in the anticipation of his touch and with the joyful knowledge that Chemosh loved her still.
She wanted to make herself pretty for him, and it was then she saw a string of black pearls lying on the nightstand. Thinking of her lord, Mina lifted the pearls. She heard instead the voice of Zeboim, found the goddess standing behind her.