Rhys sat in thought, trying to remember all he could about his brother.
“There is something else that is odd about Lieu and might apply to all the Beloved. Over time, my brother—or, rather—the thing that was my brother—appeared to lose his memory. Lieu has no remembrance of me at all now. He has no memory of slaying his parents, or any of the other crimes he has committed. He is apparently unable to remember anything for very long. I have seen him eat a full meal and in the next breath complain that he is starving.”
“Yet he remembers he’s supposed to kill in the name of Chemosh,” said Gerard.
“Yes.” Rhys agreed somberly. “That is the one thing they do remember.”
“Atta knows the Beloved when she sees one,” said Nightshade, with a pat for the dog, who accepted his pat with a good grace, though she was obviously hoping for another bone. “If Atta knows, maybe other dogs know.”
“That might explain a little mystery I’ve been wondering about,” said Gerard, regarding Atta with interest. He shook his head. “Though if it does, then it’s sorrowful news. You see, I’ve been keeping her with me when I do my work. She helps with the kender problem and she’s useful to me in other ways, too. She’s a good companion. I’ll miss her, Brother. I don’t mind telling you.”
“Perhaps, when I return to the monastery, I can train another dog, Sheriff-—” Rhys paused, wondering at what he’d just said. When I return. He’d never meant to go back there.
“Would you, Brother?” Gerard was pleased. “That would be great! Anyway, back to what I was saying. Every day Atta and I have lunch at the Inn of the Last Home. Everyone there—the usual crowd—has gotten to know Atta. My friends come pet her and talk to her. She is always a lady. Very gracious and polite.”
Rhys stroked the dog’s silky ears.
“Well, one day—yesterday it was—one of the regulars, a farmer come to sell his wares at the market—took his lunch at the Inn as usual. He bent down to pet Atta like he always does. Only this time she growled at him and snapped. He laughed and backed off, saying he must have got on her bad side. Then he started to sit down next to me. Atta was on her feet in a flash. She moved her body between me and him. Her fur bristled. She bared her teeth, her lip curling back. I couldn’t imagine what had gotten into her!”
Gerard looked uncomfortable. “I spoke to her pretty sharply, I’m afraid, Brother. And I marched her off to the stables to tie her up until she learned to behave herself. Now I’m thinking I owe her an apology.” Taking a strip of chicken, he handed it to the dog. “I’m sorry, Atta. It seems you knew what you were doing all along.”
“What happened to the farmer?”
Gerard shook his head. “I haven’t seen him since.” He sat back in his chair, frowning.
“What are you thinking, Sheriff?” Rhys asked.
“I’m thinking that if these two can recognize one of these Beloved by sight, that we could set a trap. Catch one in the act.”
“I did that,” said Rhys grimly. “I stood by helplessly as my brother killed an innocent young girl. I won’t be party to the same mistake again.”
“That won’t happen this time, Brother,” Gerard argued. “I have a plan. We’ll take guards with us. My best men. We’ll ask the Beloved to surrender. If that doesn’t work, we’ll use more drastic measures. No one will get hurt. I’ll see to that.”
Rhys remained unconvinced.
“One other question,” Gerard said. “What does Zeboim have to do with all this?”
“It seems that there is a war among the gods—”
“Just what we need,” Gerard burst out angrily. “We mortals finally achieve peace on Ansalon—relatively speaking—and now the gods start slugging it out again. Some sort of power struggle now that the Queen of Darkness is dead and gone, I’ll bet. And we poor mortals are caught in the middle. Why can’t the gods just leave us alone, Brother? Let us work out our own problems!”
“We’ve done so well so far,” Rhys said dryly.
“All the trouble that has ever plagued this world has been caused by the gods,” Gerard stated heatedly.
“Not by gods,” Rhys countered gently. “By mortals in the name of the gods.”
Gerard snorted. “I don’t say that things were great when the gods were gone, but at least we didn’t have dead people walking around committing murder—” He saw that Rhys was looking uncomfortable and stopped his harangue.
“I’m sorry, Brother. Don’t mind me. I get riled up over this. Go on with your story. I need to know all I can if I’m going to fight these things.”
Rhys hesitated, then said quietly, “When I lost my own faith, I called upon a god—any god—to side with me. Zeboim answered my prayer. One of the few times she has ever answered any of my prayers. The goddess told me that the person behind all of this was someone called Mina—”
“Mina!”
Gerard stood up so fast he upset the bowl of stew, spilling it to the floor, much to Atta’s delight. She was too well trained to beg, but, by the Immortal Law of Dogs, if food falls on the floor, it’s up for grabs.
Nightshade gave a dismayed cry and dove to save lunch, but Atta was too quick for him. The dog gulped down the rest of the chicken, not even bothering to chew it first.
“What do you know of this Mina?” asked Rhys, startled by Gerard’s intense reaction.
“Know of her. Brother, I’ve met her,” said Gerard. He ran his hand through his yellow hair, causing it to stand straight up. “And I tell you, Rhys Mason, it’s not something I ever want to do again. She’s fey, that one. If she’s behind this ...” He fell silent, brooding.
“Yes,” Rhys prompted. “If she’s behind this, what?”
“Then I’m thinking I’d better rethink my plan,” said Gerard grimly. He headed for the door. “You and the kender sit tight. I have work to do. I’ll need you to in Solace a few days, Brother.”
Rhys shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, but I must continue my search for my brother. I’ve lost precious time as it is—”
Gerard halted in the open doorway, turned around.
“And if you find him, Brother, what then? Will you just keep trailing after him, watching him kill people? Or do you want to stop him for good?”
Rhys made no reply. He gazed at Gerard in silence.
“I could use your help, Brother. Yours and Atta’s and, yes, even the kender’s,” Gerard added grudgingly. “Will all three of you stay, just for a few days?”
“A sheriff asking a kender for help!” Nightshade said, awed. “I’ll bet that’s never happened in the whole history of the world. Let’s stay, Rhys.”
Rhys’s eyes were drawn to the emmide, standing in the corner. “Very well, Sheriff. We will stay.”
Book 2
The Hall of Sacrilege
1
“Krell!” The voice echoed through the cavernous corridors of Storm’s Keep and went on booming even after the echoes had faded, bouncing around the inside of the death knight’s empty helm. “Show yourself.”
The death knight recognized the voice, and he burrowed deeper into his hole. Even here, far underground, water from the constant storms that lashed his island found its way through cracks and crevices. The rain ran in rivulets down the stone wall. Water seeped into his empty boots and flowed through his shin guards.
“Krell,” said the voice grimly, “I know you’re down there. Don’t make me come after you.”
“Yes, m’lord,” Krell mumbled. “I’ll come out.”