Mistress of the Night

by Don Bassingthwaite

  She covered her face with her hands, and Feena brushed her dark hair gently.

  “I know,” Feena said. “I was the one who gave her into Selûne’s arms.”

  Julith choked and stiffened, looking up with wide, terrified eyes. Feena forced back tears, or at least tried to. She felt wet warmth on her cheeks.

  “The madness had taken her, Julith. She’d given herself over to the wolf. If there had been something else, if there had been some way to redeem her …” She reached out to squeeze Julith’s hand. “Selûne holds her. Remember her as she was, and mourn her later.” There was a hollow in Feena’s stomach, a dark misgiving. She clenched her jaw and continued, “Something is very wrong here. Keph and I talked. I knew he was a Sharran—” Julith gasped, but Feena shook her head—“He said he was trying to escape from Shar’s cult. I know he was telling the truth. I can’t believe he’d have such a change of heart or that he was even capable of escaping the way you say he did.”

  “But I saw him vanish,” protested Julith. “And if you’d heard what he said to me … He was vile. He mocked us all for thinking we’d kept Shar’s cult out of Yhaunn and he called me a fool for trusting him.”

  “He called you a fool,” said Feena, “but he didn’t mention me?” Her eyes narrowed. She stepped back from the other priestess and touched her medallion. “Bright Lady of the Night, reveal the secrets that darkness hides!”

  Selûne’s soft power surged within her, then reached out toward Julith. Feena’s eyes widened. All around the younger woman, the tattered remnants of magic flickered like shadows.

  “What?” asked Julith. “What is it?”

  “You’re under a spell or something a lot like one.”

  Feena stepped forward again and put her hands on Julith’s head. Taking a deep breath, she reached out with her faith. For a moment, it seemed as if she could feel the chapel around her, its ancient sanctity a warm and comforting strength. She drew on that strength, weaving it together with her own.

  “In Selûne’s name,” she prayed, “let this magic be ended!”

  Dismissing the spell of moonlight that Dhauna had conjured in the infirmary had been nothing, just Selûne’s power turned against itself. The magic that swirled around Julith was darker, more alien. Feena gasped as the shadows gave way before the bright lance of her prayer—only to seize it, holding tight and leaping back toward her. Her breath hissed between her teeth and her gut twisted, but she bore down with the whole force of her spirit.

  “Be gone!”

  Moonlight shattered darkness. Julith blinked and gasped. Feena’s chest heaved as she lifted her hands away.

  “How do you feel?” she asked.

  “Moonmaiden’s grace.…” The fear that had clouded Julith’s eyes was gone and they shone in the light of the chapel. “There was a woman—a Calishite—a Sharran priestess. She stepped out of shadows and cast spells on me, then disappeared with Keph. She changed my memories!”

  The hollow that had been in Feena’s belly filled with ice as she remembered Keph’s tales of the Sharran cult.

  “Variance,” she said. “Her name is Variance.”

  “There’s something else,” said Julith. “Keph asked her how she found him. She told him that Selûne’s clergy aren’t all so faithful as the moon goddess might think. If she was telling the truth …”

  Someone had told the Sharrans that Keph had been captured, and Variance had taken the young man back. Feena blew out her breath and prayed that Selûne would guard him from the danger he’d been plunged into. But they had their own danger, didn’t they?

  “By Our Silver Lady,” Feena whispered, “there’s a traitor in Moonshadow Hall.”

  She pressed her fingertips to her forehead. The traitor had to have been among the party that had set out in pursuit of her. Unfortunately, that was almost all of the priests and priestesses of Moonshadow Hall. All of the chaos going on in the temple and a traitor, too, she groaned silently. The threat of a Sharran attack, a traitor to the faith.…

  “Is this what you were trying to warn us about, Selûne?” she murmured under her breath. “Is this the darkness in the dreams?”

  “Feena,” Julith asked, “if my memory of Keph’s escape was false, what about the threat of an attack?”

  Feena narrowed her eyes behind her fingers. “I think we still need to take it seriously,” she said. “From what Keph told me about Variance, it doesn’t sound like she does anything by accident. Even if she’s only trying to panic us—”

  Panic. The hair on the back of Feena’s neck rose. If her discovery of the Sharran in the Stiltways hadn’t been so thoroughly crushed—or if she had never found him at all and the well had been poisoned—Moonshadow Hall would have been on alert against the Sharran cult much earlier. There would be no racing around, bracing the temple against an unsuspected attack. They would have been on alert for days. Variance, she realized, had tried to panic them before.

  But the attempt had failed because Feena’s discovery had been kept secret from Selûne’s clergy. Or at least most of them.

  She lowered her hands and looked at Julith.

  “In the false memory Variance created for you,” she said, “Keph mocked our confidence that there were no Sharrans in Yhaunn. How did Variance know that? I only ever told four people that I suspected there were Sharrans at all. You …” Julith’s eyes went wide and she shook her head. Feena sighed in relief. “Thank Our Silver Lady, I didn’t think so.”

  “But you told Dhauna.” Julith swallowed. “And she …”

  “Even if she had somehow betrayed Selûne in her madness, she was dead before you and Keph were even captured. It couldn’t have been her.” Feena drew a tight breath and said, “But I also told Mifano and Velsinore.”

  Color burned in Julith’s cheeks. “The two people in charge of Moonshadow Hall—and one of them is a traitor.”

  “Exactly. But they’re not in charge of Moonshadow Hall.” Feena lifted her chin and said, “I am.” She picked up the book of the New Moon Pact and handed it to Julith. “Keep that safe. Whatever happens, it needs to be protected.”

  She rose to her feet, and Julith rose as well.

  “Feena, whatever you’re planning, I want to be with you.”

  Feena gave her a fast hug and said, “Thank you, Julith. Selûne bless you.” She turned to the great silver-bound doors of the chapel. “Selûne bless us both.”

  Drawing a deep breath, she strode forward and flung the doors wide.

  CHAPTER 15

  The corridor outside the winter chapel was wide and straight, and lit by old magic, crystals that burned silver with Selûne’s light. As she marched down the corridor—robe billowing around her, Julith at her side—Feena could imagine what a member of the New Moon Pact must have felt like: An avenger of Selûne’s faith, a defender racing to shield the innocent and unsuspecting …

  Then a pair of acolytes stepped out from a side corridor, took one look at her, and fled in terror.

  Julith shouted and started to leap after them, but Feena caught her arm and said, “Let them go.”

  “They’ll go straight to a senior priestess. Everyone will know you’ve returned.”

  “They’ll know soon enough anyway.” She released the dark-haired priestess and kept going. That was the other side of the New Moon Pact, she thought. Avengers and defenders—but feared by their own sisters.

  She could understand that all too well.

  Sounds of fresh confusion were starting to echo through Moonshadow Hall as they reached the end of the broad corridor. Feena wrenched open another pair of broad doors. Hot, muggy night air flooded into the corridor. The doors opened onto the cloisters. Directly in front of them, the full moon gate was a tall round arch, the central courtyard dark and empty beyond it. Feena stepped forward.

  Julith gasped and said, “Feena, the gates—we can’t enter the courtyard during a new moon!”

  Feena paused on the threshold of the full moon gate—then stepped through. No
thing happened.

  “Breaking a few traditions is the least of our worries, Julith.”

  She held out her hand. Julith swallowed, stepped through the gate, and took it. Hand in hand they walked to the center of the courtyard. When they stopped, Feena spoke a prayer. Moonlight rippled across the grass, pushing back the shadows.

  Around the cloisters, Feena could see the pale faces and robes of Selûne’s clergy as they gathered to stare in awe and shock. They whispered between themselves, some still clutching funeral drapings and candles, others carrying feast platters and baskets of bread. Those few who were armed hovered around the gates, hands on maces, trying to decide whether they should enter the courtyard after the offending priestesses or not. Feena let go of Julith’s hand and raised her arms.

  “Mifano!” she shouted. “Velsinore! Your High Moonmistress summons you!”

  New gasps burst out of the watching clergy. Feena repeated her call.

  A door slammed open. Priestesses leaped aside as Velsinore appeared at the waning half moon gate. Her face was white with rage.

  “Feena!” she spat almost incoherently. “Julith! The traitors stand together. How dare you? You have no—”

  “—no right?” Feena asked, lowering her arms. “I have every right. I’m one of Selûne’s priestesses. I’m the High Moonmistress of Moonshadow Hall. Who has a better right?”

  “You’re not the High Moonmistress!”

  “With the High Moonmistress’s passing, the Moonmistress-Designate takes her place.”

  “I think you gave up that title when you turned on Mother Dhauna,” called Mifano. The silver-haired priest stood in another gate. The Waxing Crescent sword was in his hand, delicate blade burning with silver fire. His eyes were narrow. “You shouldn’t have come back, Feena. Mother Dhauna is dead because of you.”

  More than you know, Feena thought. She forced sorrow away, stood tall, and said, “I had to come back.”

  “To rescue Julith?” asked Mifano. “To stand with her while her Sharran friends attack us?”

  Armed priests and priestesses stood at all of the moon gates. Their eyes darted to Mifano, but the priest shook his head. He stepped out into the courtyard and approached slowly, sword extended. After a moment, Velsinore murmured a prayer and moved forward as well. She drew the Waning Crescent sword awkwardly, but the weapon was steady in her hand as she crossed the courtyard to stand with Mifano. Feena glared at them.

  “Put down your swords,” she growled. “Julith is no traitor. Neither am I.” She raised her voice so that all of the gathered clergy would be able to hear her. “Keph Thingoleir was trying to flee from Shar’s cult. He didn’t escape. Julith’s memories were altered by a Sharran priestess who came to drag Keph back to Shar’s embrace. Someone told that priestess that Keph had been captured. There is a traitor in Moonshadow Hall, but it’s not one of us.” She raised her hand and pointed at Velsinore and Mifano. “It’s one of you!”

  Velsinore’s breath hissed through her teeth. “Ridiculous! You lie!”

  “Do I?” Feena touched her medallion. “Moonmaiden hear me,” she prayed. “Sanctify my words. Let no falsehood be uttered here!”

  A shimmer passed over the courtyard. Feena drew a breath and lowered her hand. When she spoke, her words rang in pure, bright tones off the encircling walls of Moonshadow Hall.

  “By Selûne’s grace, I say that one of you, Mifano and Velsinore, betrayed a penitent soul to the darkness of Shar!”

  “And by the Bright Lady of the Night,” snarled Mifano, “I tell you that I am no traitor to Selûne!”

  “Nor,” spat Velsinore, “am I!”

  Their words rang just as brightly as Feena’s.

  “… but so great was Selûne’s weakness to the pleas of the world that she reached out and opened a passage to a distant place of flame. And Shar’s peace was shattered.” His voice trembling, Bolan lowered his raised arms and crossed them over his chest. “Thus was division made between the two sisters and so has Shar ever sought to heal the rift that Selûne caused.” The priest raised his smooth, white face to the darkness of the temple’s rocky ceiling and called, “Lady of Loss, may we do your work in fighting Selûne’s followers wherever we find them! Mistress of the Night, we honor you!”

  “We honor Shar!” chanted the assembled cultists.

  “We honor Shar,” Keph chanted along with them. The words left a bad taste in his mouth. The entire ceremony made his skin creep as if filth had been spread across his body.

  Somewhere in the depths of the temple, Jarull moaned. Variance hadn’t cast her cloak of shadow and silence back over him. Every peak in the cultists’ chants brought fresh groans and wails of torment echoing through the tunnels. Some of the cultists had looked fearful at first, but soon they seemed to revel in his sounds of anguish.

  Variance stepped up to stand at Shar’s altar.

  “In fighting Selûne’s followers,” she said, “we bear remembrance for all that has been taken from us. We bear remembrance for Shar’s loss. We fight the Selûnites as Shar fights their weak and treacherous goddess. We meet their hatred with our hatred. We do honor to Cyrume, torn apart like an animal. We do honor to Keph, returned to us by Shar’s blessing.” Cold, razor-edged steel flashed in the dim light as she snatched a chakram from her belt and held it high. “Shall we visit Shar’s blessing on Moonshadow Hall?”

  “Yes!”

  Fists and weapons punched the air. Shar’s faithful had armed themselves with whatever they could: clubs, knives, swords … Bolan wore a harness festooned with pouches and flasks. When he moved, cold metallic odors drifted off of him.

  From where he stood behind the altar, Keph could see all of the gathered cultists, their eyes bright and their faces flush with zeal. Between them, Bolan and Variance had worked the cult into a frenzy. Talisk, Starne, and Baret were there, lashing the air with swords and slapping at each other. They weren’t the only ones caught up in the madness. An old man was shaking with murderous ecstasy. A woman in wealthy merchant’s dress was tearing at her clothes. There was blood on her mouth—she had bitten herself. Someone else had begun screaming and beating on the wide metal rings Keph remembered from his initiation. The clashing sound filled the air, competing with Variance’s urgent exhortations.

  “Will we show the Selûnites mercy?”

  “No!”

  “Will Moonshadow Hall stand at dawn?”

  “No!”

  Keph felt sick.

  Variance spread her arms wide and shouted, “This night shall live in legend! May Shar grant us her divine favor!” She swept her chakram down. “It is time!”

  The voices of the cultists rose in a howling chorus. Somewhere Jarull shrieked.

  The courtyard was silent, the watching clergy shocked by the contradictory truths.

  Julith’s voice hissed when she asked, “Feena, how—?”

  Feena held up her hard, gesturing the younger priestess to silence.

  Moonmaiden’s grace, she wondered silently, could we have been wrong? No. Everything they had reasoned out pointed to Velsinore or Mifano as the traitor.

  Feena stared at the pair, looking for something to suggest that one of them had somehow resisted her prayer and was actually lying or telling some half-truth.

  Both watched her with hard eyes and held their swords of office in steady hands. Neither had the look of someone who was lying. Feena’s mouth was dry as she tried to think of another possibility.

  “The Sharran priestess …” she said. “She was behind the poisoning I stopped. I think she’s been trying to manipulate us into panic. Her name is Variance.”

  “I don’t know anyone by that name,” growled Velsinore, and Mifano echoed her.

  Julith said, “She’s a Calishite. Her hair is long. Her skin is pale and dusky, like she hasn’t been in the sun for a long time.”

  Feena watched Mifano and Velsinore as Julith spoke, but neither reacted. She shot a glance at Julith.

  The dark-haired priestess
bit her lip in thought, then added, “She wore a ring, an amethyst set in old silver.”

  Mifano’s sword wavered. Feena’s eyes—and Julith’s and Velsinore’s—snapped to him.

  “You recognize the ring?” Feena asked.

  “It sounds like—” Mifano’s lips drew tight. “Lady Monstaed has taken to wearing a ring like that. But she’s not Calishite.”

  “When did she start wearing the ring?”

  “Less than a month ago.” Doubt creeped into his eyes as he said, “About the time she transferred the lease on her properties from Ladysluck Tower to Moonshadow Hall.”

  “Did you tell Lady Monstaed about my encounter in the Stiltways and that I thought there were Sharrans in Yhaunn?” Feena asked.

  His mouth opened then closed, and he nodded. “I told her about that,” he said. His sword fell. “Selûne’s shining face, I told her everything that happened in Moonshadow Hall.”

  Julith gasped. All around the cloisters, whispers of alarm and surprise rolled through the assembled clergy. Hope leaped inside Feena—Mifano was no traitor, only a dupe!

  “And you told Lady Monstaed about Keph’s capture?” she asked.

  Mifano blinked—and shook his head. “No,” he said. “Feena, I swear I haven’t even stopped to think about her since your attack on Dhauna.”

  His words rang with truth. And Feena realized, why should Mifano have contacted Lady Monstaed back in Yhaunn to pass on news of Keph anyway? He couldn’t have known she’d be interested in the young man. She ground her teeth as the brief moment of hope faded.

  Worse, the only evidence linking Variance to Velsinore or Mifano was useless. Mifano’s gossip had let Variance know about Moonshadow Hall’s misplaced confidence. But if he hadn’t been the one to tell the Sharran priestess about Keph’s capture …

  “Someone is still a traitor,” Feena said. She looked up. “Velsinore, who—”

  The tall priestess’s sword snapped up defensively. “I certainly didn’t tell this Variance anything!” she snapped.

  Feena groaned and said, “I didn’t say you did. I need to know if anyone among the clergy who rode with you last night might have—”