“In part. Partly it was the great pressure I was under to try to sustain the worship of a self-serving, destructive monster I didn’t really believe to be a god.”
Erri lowered his eyes. By now, everyone in Lamath had beard the story of Naquin’s transformation. Formerly the High Priest of the Dragonfaith, he had worn the jewelled hood of office through the final days of Vicia-Heinox’ destructive life. By the time Erri returned from Dragonsgate with the news of the dragon’s death, Naquin had disappeared. Mobs of angry citizens rushed toward the temple to destroy it, but found that Erri had boarded it up. The High Priest couldn’t be found.
One night, on a walk through those ancient alleyways he’d come to know well as a sailor, Erri had found Naquin, drunk in a mud puddle and cursed him for a fool.
“I certainly got hot at you that night, didn’t I?” Erri chuckled.
“It was necessary, Prophet, that I see the error of my ways, and be set on the proper path ”
“Pardon me, Naquin, for interrupting you, but you’ve lived around religion all your life, and you know a lot of these religious terms that don’t mean much to the rest of us. I know you want to sound pious, but just speak your mind, as you did the night I found you. May not sound holy, but you’ll make a lot more sense.”
In actual fact, Naquin had struggled to his feet that night and cursed Erri right back. Then the two had gone off together for a long discussion about religious matters. It was a curious conversation.
Naquin knew all the words and concepts, and Erri knew almost nothing.
But Erri knew the Power and Naquin didn’t. Naquin didn’t discover until the next morning that he’d been talking to the Prophet himself and later on that same day he put on the sky robe for the first time.
“I apologize, Prophet. My past experience ”
Torget it.” Erri shrugged, meaning more than just to forget the moment. But men don’t change overnight either. Any news of Serphimera?” Erri asked.
No direct word just the same information we’ve been hearing for weeks. She traveled so fast that it’s hard to be sure, but it seems she was last seen in the southern region.
T&t Wizard f* Waiting
I’m beginning to believe like everyone else that she passed Dragonsgate.” Erri nodded. “Why not just let her go?” Naquin asked.
“I met the woman and had a chance to see how very dangerous she could be! Do you really want to bring her back?”
Erri graced Naquin with a slow smile. “I’d wager that if the Priestess could see you now, she’d say you were dangerous, too!” He stood up, and walked behind his desk. He picked up a piece of straw and absently began cleaning his ears with it. “Trouble is, in the face of the dragon’s savagery, she still maintains her devotion to the beast. I can’t understand it. I only know that Pelmen said we must love her out of it, and we can’t do that if we don’t know where she is.”
Naquin said nothing. Though he’d never revealed it to his master, he did not care for Pelmen never had liked him since the first night he laid eyes on the man, here in this very dungeon, and found he was a disguised power-shaper. Naquin’s priestly father had bred him to despise power shapers and Pelmen was no exception. Never mind that Erri considered the man a Prophet Naquin knew better, and if the opportunity ever arose, he intended to expose the man for what he truly was.
Erri sighed, then went on: “Much as I hate to admit it, I fear you’re right about her passing Dragonsgate. But which direction? Did she go to Chaomonous or to Ngandib-Mar? I don’t have a hint. That’s why I’ve decided to send you as my envoy to one of the royal courts to find out.”
Naquin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Which one?”
“A good question, and one I’ve been studying for days. Now, Ngandib-Mar is a land of free-spirited folk who are terribly superstitious. Certainly the woman would find a hearing there, more easily than among the cocksure, cockeyed Chaons.”
“A reasonable guess.”
“On the other hand, the woman loathes power shapers as we both know…” Erri studied Naquin’s reactions as he went on. “…A feeling I believe you share with her?”
“Never trust a power shaper my master. They’ll turn on you every time.”
“So you’ve said before. And Ngandib-Mar seems to be full of them. Has she gone south instead? That’s what I want to know. There’s more to it than that, however. We have… friends… in Chaomonous who inform me that the land is ripe to be claimed for the skyf aith.”
“Then I’m bound for Chaomonous?” the former High Priest asked.
Erri nodded. “I want you to take a group of initiates with you to scatter throughout the countryside. Let them begin spreading the precepts of the book and explaining the Power. I want you, however, to report directly to Queen Ligne’s castle. Chaomonous has a court full of snobs. Please take no offense in this, Naquin, but you’ll fit right in. Your manners and training even your fancy words suit you admirably for the court of that Queen.” Erri’s eyebrows knitted, and he leaned down toward Naquin. “Besides, you’re experienced at intrigue, and it seems that’s essential to life in her castle. Once inside the Imperial House, you are to find the fool. Do whatever he tells you.”
Naquin’s eyes flew open. “What?”
“That’s right, the fool whoever answers to that name. He’s our… friend.” Erri gazed into Naquin’s eyes. “Wilt you do it?”
“How could I refuse my Prophet?”
Erri smiled, clasped Naquin’s hands warmly, and pulled him to his feet.
“Go with my blessings,” Erri ordered. “And remember. You represent the Power now not yourself.”
“It seems we always meet in dungeons,” said the woman.
“Shh…” Pelmen hissed, looking up at the stairway.
“Don’t concern yourself with the noise. Those above us can’t hear what takes place down here. That’s why the Queen had me put in this lower dungeon. So she and I could speak privately.”
“But why are you here?” Pelmen whispered. “Why are you in her prison?”
“It appears that I am the Queen’s… confidant. She’s a woman with deep spiritual needs she comes to me for ; comfort.”
“She keeps her confidant in the dungeon?”
“She is also a woman of great insecurities.”
Pelmen peered through the bars that crosshatched the Window in Serphimera’s door, and gazed into those emerald eyes that had entranced him so many months before. His mind wandered, stunned by the sheer joy of seeing her face once again. Then he remembered where he was, and his white forehead knitted in concern. “How did you know me?” he asked cautiously.
Her half-grin took him by surprise. He had never before seen Serphimera smile. “How indeed? How do you think, Prophet? Or should I say player? The silly white grease on your face doesn’t befit a supposed holy man.”
Pelmen’s heart sagged. “You know… so much…” he began.
“Oh, I know a great deal about you. Ligne’s told me all she remembers, and I’ve given her an earful as well.” Serphimera’s eyebrows arched disdainfully. “I let her know exactly what I thought of you. And of course, she agreed.” Serphimera walked back into her cell. Pelmen had a chance now to see into it, and was surprised again. It was well furnished, with a hand-carved headboard and a large bed, a desk, several chairs, and a rich rug. A dozen silver candlesticks lined the walls. Ligne obviously kept her in style.
“You still blame me for the death of the dragon,” he said softly.
“Shouldn’t I?” she asked over her shoulder. Her long black hair coursed down her back, and the flickering candlelight enhanced her delicate beauty. Hers was not the blatant prettiness, the sophisticated sensuousness of Ligne. Serphimera’s features were at once mysterious and innocent Where Ligne called out of men a hot, objective lust, Serphimera warmed the spirit. Her eyes were open windows to her feelings, for Serphimera never hid anything she thought.