"But Tyrannar Noxxe is dead," Perr noted.
"But he wouldn't have died if Beshaba hadn't entered the fortress, which she might not have done if you had been successful in your last mission. But if you had been successful and lived, Noxxe might still be alive and you wouldn't be promoted. Hence, I qualified my statement with 'possibly.'"
"What was my last mission in life?" Perr asked.
"Well, your cover story was you were bringing back a runaway slave. Actually, you were involved in arranging an attack on Beshaba's fortress," Joel lied.
"Why?"
Joel shrugged. "I do not know. You would not tell me more before you left."
"I told you of my mission? Were we friends?" Perr asked.
"Hardly," Joel said with a sniff. "We are, after all, priests of Xvim. It would be more accurate to say we share most of the same enemies. Nonetheless, it irks me to see you reduced to this menial role. It's a waste of your talents."
"I am gatekeeper of the Bastion of Hate," Perr growled. "It is an honor accorded me for having died in service to Lord Xvim."
"Look around you. This is a slave's job. It's been pushed off on you because you're an expendable petitioner," Joel retorted. "Everyone of any power is in the temple trying to hide from Beshaba's spreading ill luck. Otherwise they'd put someone with more sense in here. Tell me, did you let Beshaba into the fortress because she enchanted you, or did you hope she might destroy Tyrannar Noxxe?"
"I did not let her in," Perr shouted angrily. "She tore both gates in half. Nearly a hundred yugoloths died trying to block her entry before they realized she was a goddess and fled before her mad eyes."
"Really?" Joel asked with astonishment. "Excuse me. I see that Tyrannar Neri has misinformed me concerning the goddess's arrival. He's convinced the surviving yugoloths that you let her in. No doubt Neri was eager to convince everyone that you were not worthy of this post, let alone one more challenging and suitable to one of your power."
"I had the gate repaired in less than two hours," Pen-said proudly. "And it functions perfectly-better, in fact, than it did before."
"Well, that is hardly surprising," Joel said, "considering the talents you possessed in life. As I said before, your talents are wasted in this position."
"Are you prepared to offer me another position, Hate-master Camfer?" Perr asked.
Joel smiled. 'That all depends," he said. He turned to look out the window of the inner bastion wall, the one that overlooked the courtyard. The giant yugoloths were still performing marching drills down below.
"On what?" Perr asked.
Joel turned back to face the petitioner. "Tyrannar Neri has insulted you by placing you here," he insisted. "He may even have been behind the failure of your last mission. Just because the other tyrannars call him Neri the Nitwit doesn't mean that Neri isn't a cunning man. My offer depends on your hatred of this man whom you should call your enemy. Is your hate great enough to spur you to action? Are you prepared to seize the power that should rightfully be yours?"
Perr's lips were set in a sneer, and his blue eyes glittered in the torchlight like a fiend ready to do battle in the Blood War. Despite his hatred, Perr was no one's fool. I presume you have a plan to do away with Tyrannar Neri that will put me at great risk," he stated bluntly.
Joel smiled coldly. "It will only put you at risk if it fails," he said. "Naturally the plan does not depend on you, though it will be easier if you help us. The risk you take will serve as proof you are worthy of the power with which you will be rewarded. Of course, you are free to turn down my offer should you prefer to serve out the rest of eternity as a slave."
"I am a petitioner. I will soon merge with Lord Xvim," Perr countered.
Merging with one's god was the ultimate goal for a petitioner, Finder had explained to Joel. When the petitioner's spirit was sufficiently like his god's, the two became as one. Of course, the spiritual growth necessary for a merger would be far different for petitioners of Xvim than the petitioners of any other god.
"Perhaps you have confused Lord Xvim with a god of obedient sheep," Joel retorted haughtily. "Slaves do not merge with the New Darkness. A petitioner must become as Lord Xvim himself is, consumed by hatred and a tyrant over all, before there can be a merger. We have never had to replace a gatekeeper because one merged with Lord Xvim."
Perr glared at Joel, but he did not deny the wisdom of the false hatemaster's words. "So what is your plan, and how will I be rewarded?" he asked.
"First," Joel said, "tell me, when someone calls at the gate, who decides to let him in?"
Perr shrugged. "I don't know exactly. I drop a note out that window," he said, pointing to the window looking out over the courtyard, "and a yugoloth carries it to the temple. I wait at the window until Hatemaster Morr arrives and signals me to open the gate. If he does not give me the signal to open the gate or does not come, I do not open the gate."
Which was why, Joel realized, Hatemaster Morr had been the one to greet "Marin the Red" at the gate. "And would you ever question Hatemaster Morr's signal?" Joel asked.
"Of course not," Perr insisted. "Tyrannar Neri ordered me to obey his commands."
"Suppose there were an army of tanar'ri sitting at the gate, commanded by a priestess of Beshaba?"
"Why would Hatemaster Morr signal me to open the gate to such an army?" Perr asked with surprise.
"Would that make a difference as to whether or not you would obey him?" Joel asked.
Perr looked confused. "Such at thing would be a betrayal of Lord Xvim," he said.
"Only if Lord Xvim gave a damn," Joel said. "Suppose Lord Xvim enticed Beshaba here as a test of his tyrannars-a test that I believe they have all failed. They cower in the temple waiting for Lord Xvim to return and save them all. Not one is filled with enough hatred to seize the opportunity offered them. Beshaba-the goddess herself, not merely one of her avatars-lies unconscious in Lord Xvim's throne room, no doubt from some magic set there by the lord himself. Yet not one of the tyrannar acts to destroy Lord Xvim's enemy."
"You can't kill a goddess," Perr insisted. Then, less certainly, he asked, "Can you?"
"A mortal, no. But another goddess could."
"What goddess?" Perr asked with obvious fascination.
"Tymora," Joel said. "She and her sister, Beshaba, have always hated one another. Of course, this works to the glory of Lord Xvim. He feeds on their hatred, for the hatred and tyranny of the gods can be far more powerful than that of mere mortals. I have lured Tymora here with the information that Xvim has abducted one of Tymora's favorites, the bird woman Jasmine, and plans to give her to Beshaba. Tymora is so enraged that she fully intends to destroy Beshaba. I think Lord Xvim would be most pleased if the death were to take place in his holy tower."
Perr's jaw dropped, and he remained speechless for several moments. Joel did not spoil the mood by breaking the silence. He waited patiently for Perr to react. Finally the petitioner said, "It is dangerous… but so brilliant." There was admiration in the look he gave Joel.
"I haven't much more time to waste," the bard said. "It doesn't really matter whether you open the gate or not, because Tymora can tear it in half as easily as Beshaba did. I am telling you this only to test your loyalties. Tymora will come disguised as a priestess of Beshaba, because she believes Beshaba is in league with Xvim and that we will admit a priestess to attend her mistress. If we fail to admit her, she will admit herself, and her army of tanar'ri will attack the yugoloths until she reaches Beshaba. The tyrannars know nothing of my plan." "But Hatemaster Morr does?" Perr asked.
"Hatemaster Morr is dead," Joel replied, "though his body has not yet been discovered."