Sephris stopped, took a deep breath, and gathered himself.
Jak and Magadon stared at him, too dumbfounded to speak.
"But my wants in this matter are secondary, First of Five," Sephris said softly to Cale. "And two and two are and always shall be four. What is, is."
Cale could think of nothing to say. Sephris had allowed himself to return from the dead when his high priest had called because he had thought it his duty as a priest, as a Chosen. The latter realization made Cale squirm in his chair. But he reminded himself that he had made no promises to the Shadowlord.
Sephris smiled at him, then asked in a conspiratorial tone, "You see it, don't you?" The smile was not friendly. "It is an ugly truth, what we bear. What you will bear is uglier than most. Prepare yourself."
Cale decided to let the reference to "we" pass. Instead, he said, "You know why we've come, Sephris. Tell us what we want to know and we will leave you be."
Sephris replied, "Of course I know why you've come. Do you?"
Cale shook his head. "I do not understand."
"You are a variable in a larger equation. I am looking through you, through all of you, trying to solve for the darkness behind you." After a pause, he added, "In all permutations one thing always occurs: Many will die because of you, First of Five."
Cale's skin went gooseflesh. He could not look at Magadon or Jak, not then.
"You do not know that," he said to Sephris, and his words sounded empty even to him.
"Do I not?" asked the loremaster.
"Then help us," Jak said to Sephris. "We don't want that to happen."
"Wants are secondary," Sephris said with a nasty smirk.
Cale could take no more of Sephris's self-pity and deliberate obfuscation. He stared daggers at the loremaster.
"Help me stop it, old fool. If knowledge is your curse, then tell me what you know. If there are permutations, then we can control outcomes. Stop the cryptic clues and tell me what I need to know."
"Being cryptic is my lot," Sephris answered in an infuriatingly calm tone. "Have you not noticed? And control is an illusion. Is that how you sleep, First?"
Cale ground his teeth and barely contained an expletive. Shadows poured from his flesh. The room dimmed.
"And so it begins," Sephris said softly.
The door to the conference chamber flew open and Veen appeared, backed by three more priests. The Oghmanytes must have been scrying the chamber or watching through a peephole.
"Is all well, Chosen One?" Veen asked.
Sephris chuckled, waved a hand, and said, "As well as it gets, Veen. Begone."
Veen eyed each of the three comrades.
"Do not tax the loremaster with your questions. We will be nearby." He closed the door.
Cale's anger went out the door with Veen. He just felt . . . tired. He sensed a doom overtaking him and he was too fatigued to outrun it.
"Let's leave here," Magadon said to him. "This is futile. And he is mad."
"You won't help us, Sephris?" Jak said, obviously hurt.
Sephris glared at Jak. "Jak Fleet. My friend. A seventeen going on a two. Of course I will help you." He looked up to the ceiling and said in a loud voice, "For I am a dutiful servant of the Binder!"
"We don't need your help," Cale said, and stood. "And I don't want it."
Sephris chuckled. "As I said: Wants are secondary."
Cale moved for the door, shepherding Magadon and Jak along. He'd had enough.
Behind them, Sephris spoke in a low tone without inflection. "More than two thousand years ago, the cities of Netheril floated through the sky on flattened mountain-tops. You three seek one of those-Sakkors, on which sat the Eldritch Temple of Mystryl."
Cale froze but did not turn. Sephris continued. "Exactly one thousand, seven hundred twelve years ago magic failed, and Sakkors fell from the sky. The waves swallowed it and there it lies still, buried under the Inner Sea, sixty leagues from Selgaunt Bay. The fourth of your number, the Second of Mask, will take a ship to find it. And when he finds it, and you find him, you will summon the thunder-head. The storm will follow."
Cale struggled with the notion of asking Sephris for more information but decided against it.
"Goodbye, loremaster," he said over his shoulder, and opened the door.
"Sakkors is only the beginning," Sephris said as Cale and his comrades walked out and pulled closed the door.
Sephris shouted from behind it. "Sacrifices must sometimes be made, First of Five! Remember that, when the darkness comes and all of this is gone!"
Cale stood in the hall for a moment, leaning on the door, dizzy. He gathered himself and shared a look with Jak. The little man looked like he wanted to say something but held his tongue. They walked the maze of corridors in silence until they reached the worship hall.
Hrin waited for them there. Jak saw the bearded priest and his expression hardened.
"Give me a moment," the little man said and stalked up to the priest. Cale and Magadon followed a few paces behind.
Jak poked a finger into Hrin's stomach and said, "You are a wretched bunch of prigs. Look at what you've done to him. He was at peace, finally. And now... ."
Acolytes looked up from their desks with alarmed gazes. Doors opened and several more mace-armed priests entered the worship hall.
Hrin gave no ground. His eyes went past Jak, to Cale, to the corridor out of which they had just exited, back to Jak.
"The Chosen One is an asset of the church, halfling. His death was premature, thanks to you. Only the willing can return. He could have refused the call."
"That's a dungpile," Jak spat, eliciting raised eyebrows and shocked looks from the acolytes at the desks. "He came back because he felt it was his duty. And you all knew he would. If you really had regarded him as highly as you say, you never would have asked."
Hrin's brow furrowed with anger and his lips formed a tight line behind his beard. "Get out. Or I'll have you escorted out forcibly."
Cale stepped forward and said, "I doubt that very much."
The priest regarded Cale coolly. "Do you, servant of Mask?"
Several underpriests stood at a distance, hands on mace hafts, angry scowls on their faces. Jak, too, looked ready to do battle on the spot.
Cale's sword hand twitched. The light in the worship hall dimmed.
"Let's move on, Jak," Magadon said, pulling Jak and Cale away. "Erevis, come on."
Jak allowed himself to be led away. Cale shook off Magadon's hand and followed, eyeing Hrin all the while.
"It stinks in here anyway," Jak said over his shoulder.
"Do not return here," called Hrin. "Not ever."
None of the three companions replied. They pushed their way through a group of priests near the door and exited the temple.
When they descended the stairs and reached the street, Jak continued to fume.
"Can you believe they did that to him? Organized religion." He turned and spat on the church stairs and several passersby went wide-eyed.
"Would you want that?" the little man asked, turning to Cale. "I wouldn't. When I am dead, I want to stay that way."