"I'm sorry, Thamalon," said High Songmaster Ammhaddan sincerely. TH do everything I can, of course."
Thamalon gave him a forced smile and shook the Songmaster's hand.*I know you will. Thank you, Ansril."
The High Songmaster indicated Thazienne's bedroom with a nod. "She needs undisturbed rest. The work of the Lord of Song is done. Sleep will heal her now aa much as spells."
"Ill see to it she's undisturbed. Thank you again."
High Songmaster Ammhaddan bowed to Lady Uskevren. "She is strong, Lady. I can see that. Do not lose hope."
Shamur nodded and forced a smile of thanks.
Ansril turned and nodded to Gale and Tamlin. The Songlord's voice bring you peace and keep you," he said, and with that took his leave.
When he had gone, Gale, Tamlin, Shamur, and Thamalon stood about in the hall,'grief-stricken, exhausted, and unsure of what to do with themselves.
Tamlin'broke the awkward silence at last. Embarrassed, he wiped at his tear-streaked race. "I think I'm going to try and get some sleep." He nodded goodnight to Thamalon but the two did not embrace. "Father." He did, however, hug his mother with genuine affection. "Good night, Mother. It's going to be all right. You heard the High Songmaster."
"I know," she whispered, as though trying to convince herself "I know."
He wiped a tear from her face and smiled at her. When she returned a wan smile of her own, he patted her shoulders and turned away from her to face Gale. "Goodnight, Mister Gale."
"Goodnight, Master Tamlin."
After he had gone, Thamalon kissed Shamur on the forehead. Unusually, she did not shrink from his show of affection. "I think our son has the right notion, Lady. Let me take you to your bed. Erevis and I will wait up forTalbot."
At first hesitant-Thamalon only rarely set foot in her quarters-she at last nodded, dabbed her nose, and allowed him to lead her off toward her suites. As he passed, Thamalon said to Gale, "Erevis, Til meet you in the library in a quarter of an hour." His serious expression told Gale that he should be ready to discuss business.,
"Yes, Lord," Gale replied. He would not have been able to sleep anyway..
Though only a few hours from dawn, the halls of Stormweather still bustled with activity. The surviving house guards scoured the manse, They searched and re-searched every room in the manse and every outbuilding on the grounds for ghoul stragglers.
A pair of weary-eyed guards dressed in blood-spattered, Uskevren blue thumped up the stairs as Gale padded down. They looked exhausted, but nevertheless
Shadow's Witness •
went about their duty with the stolid, seemingly limitless endurance possessed by all professional soldiers.
When they saw Cale, both immediately snapped to attention. Cale gave them a half-hearted smile. He had always had the respect of the house guard-once, when he had been delegating duties to the staff for an upcoming dinner, Captain Orvist had walked by and complimented him by saying that he gave orders like a field general-but his battle with the shadow demon had elevated him to the rank of honorary commander. He thought he might as well take full advantage.
"Lady Uskevren has taken to her rooms," he said. "Pass the word and see that it remains quiet upstairs. And under no circumstances is Mistress Thazienne's bedroom to be disturbed." The High Priest had ordered undisturbed rest for Thazienne, and Cale would see to it.
"Yes, Mister Cale," snapped Darven, a big, muscular veteran who towered over most of the guards but still stood a handspan shorter than Cale. "We'll inform Captain Orvist right now." Darven gave the guard beside him an elbow and both men spun and hurried back down the stairs. Cale followed at a more leisurely pace, thoughtful.
The members of the household staff had already cleaned up most of the carnage, though Cale could still hear voices and the occasional clatter of dishes coming from the feasthall.
Thank the gods for Brilla, he thought with a tired smile. While he had personally organized the cleanup, he had left supervision of the effort in the kitchen mistress's pudgy, but still very capable hands.
After the attack, the families of the slain had been notified immediately. All of the corpses and the pieces of corpses had been removed hours ago. No doubt some fortunate few already had been raised from the dead.
Cale knew that with enough coin for the temple's coffers and a powerful enough priest, not even death was insurmountable for the richest of the Old Chauncel nobility.
Thinking of the raised dead reminded him of Krendik, a former living man twisted into an undead monster, and sent a shudder up his spine. The dead should be left dead, he thought, and knew as soon as he thought it that those murdered by the shadow demon would be left dead. Cale himself had felt that black horror's touch pull sickeningly at his soul. No matter the coin a family paid the temple priests for those the demon had slain, there would be no coming back. There was nothing to bring back. The demon had devoured their souls.
Shuddering, his hand went to the faded gash in his shoulder. Strangely, the physical damage from the demon's claws had almost entirely healed. The same was true of Thazienne's chest. It was as though the demon's claws opened the skin only to free the soul, and if the soul was not loosed and devoured, the wound quickly healed. The physical wound, at least. The emotional wounds would heal much more slowly.
Cale still did not know the total number of guests that had been killed. In truth, he didn't want to know, but it had been a lot. The number of distraught relatives that had come by coach and carriage to Storm-weather's doors to retrieve their dead had seemed to him an unending stream. With Thamalon, Shamur, and Tamlin tending to Thazienne, the duty to assist the grief stricken relatives in sorting through the corpses had fallen to Cale and Captain Orvist. He had seen up close the gory wounds inflicted by ghoul fang and claw. He had also witnessed the desiccated remains left in the wake of the demon's attacks. The images from the slaughter's aftermath would haunt his mind for a long while. The fact that it was his fault would haunt him longer.
It was my fault, he frankly admitted. It had to be. He felt too tired now even to feel anger at himself for the attack. He admitted the truth of it as he would any other self-evident fact. Thazienne's wounded spirit, Meena Foxmantle's wounded sanity, all the dead guests and house guards-his fault. He was not sure how, but he was sure that the Righteous Man had finally learned-that he had been protecting the Uskevren, not spying on them. The Righteous Man had meant the attack to send a message-/ know.
After driving off the demon, Gale had carried Thazi-enne up the stairs to her room and placed her in bed to await a priest. Thamalon, Shamur, and Tamlin had remained with her. Gale had reluctantly left her side and hurried back to the feasthall to examine the ghoul corpses. He had to know for sure.
As he had suspected and feared, all of the ghouls had been former Night Knives. Beneath the gray skin, rotted fangs, and charnel reek, he had recognized the twisted faces of his former fellow guild members. Somehow, they had been transformed from living men into flesh-eating, undead monsters. The realization had sickened him, but he had swallowed his nausea and tried to put together the pieces of the puzzle.
After learning of Gale's ten-year deception, the Righteous Man must have decided to repay the betrayal by hurting the people Gale hived most To accomplish that, the Righteous Man, not only a guildmaster but also a powerful priest of Mask the Shadowlord, had summoned the shadow demon. After using his black magic to warp guildsmen into ghouls, he had turned them loose on Stormweather to slay its inhabitants.
While it seemed an extreme measure, Gale pat nothing beyond the sadistic guildmaster. He was a priest, and therefore a fanatic by definition. Even as that thought crossed his mind, he realized that he was mistaken, that anger was causing him to over generalize. Many priests,might be fanatics, but not all. Not Jak, and not Ansril Ammhaddan. For them at least, religion had not meant fanaticism.