Mistress of the Night

by Don Bassingthwaite

  “Wait.” Julith laid her arm on Feena’s arm. “We’ve made a mistake.” Feena glanced at her. The priestess was looking at Velsinore intently. “Variance said that not all of Selûne’s clergy are faithful. She never said that one of us told her about Keph’s capture.”

  “I certainly didn’t tell this Variance anything,” Velsinore had said. Selûne’s power confirmed that statement as the truth. But Variance wasn’t the only Sharran in Yhaunn, was she?

  “Velsinore,” Feena spat, “did you tell anyone about Keph’s capture?” She stepped forward. “Answer me! Did you betray Keph to the Sharrans?”

  The tall priestess took a step back, her eyes wide and her mouth open.

  “I … I …” she stuttered, as if trying to form words when none would come, as if the power of a goddess prevented her from speaking a lie.

  Feena bared her teeth. She didn’t know how Velsinore had managed to deny that she was a traitor to Selûne, but her falsehood had caught her! Whispers around the cloisters turned into a surging, seething muddle of confusion. Velsinore squeezed her mouth shut. Growling, Feena reached out for her.

  Velsinore whirled and lashed out with her sword.

  Caught by surprise, Mifano gasped in shock as the shining blade sliced into his body. Feena heard the metal grate against bone and leaped back in shock. In the cloisters, confusion rose into screaming chaos. Velsinore twisted around, letting go of the sword, and shoved Mifano’s jerking body to the ground. Feena and Julith dodged forward almost as one to catch him.

  As they reacted, Velsinore turned and sprinted out of the courtyard, back toward the waning half moon gate. The priests and priestesses standing in the gate and the cloisters scrambled to get out of her way. In less than a heartbeat, she had vanished into Moonshadow Hall.

  “Moonmaiden’s grace!” Feena cursed at the merciless distraction.

  Mifano’s blood was pouring across her hands. The silver-haired priest’s breath was coming in rattling rasps.

  “Down!” ordered Julith. “Put him down!” She raised her eyes to the swirling, swooning clergy. “Chandri! I’m going to need your help to save him!” She glanced at Feena. “Go get Velsinore! I’ll handle this!’

  Feena grimaced and slid Mifano into her arms, then rose and charged after Velsinore. Clergy dodged out of her way almost as quickly as they had dodged out of Velsinore’s. Feena opened the door through which the traitorous priestess had vanished and plunged inside.

  There was no sign of Velsinore, but even in scant moments she could have easily gotten out of sight. With the milling priestesses and priests out in the cloisters still screaming, the echo of running footsteps would be drowned out as well. Sound and sight weren’t the only means of tracking at Feena’s disposal, however. She concentrated, seeking the balance between woman and wolf that was her hybrid form. It wasn’t easy—both woman and wolf were furious and it was tempting simply to let the beast take over. Feena strained and resisted the impulse. She wanted answers and she wasn’t going to get them if she tore Velsinore apart.

  “Selûne, help me,” she murmured and took a deep breath as fur rippled over her skin and her joints shifted within the folds of the robe.

  Her next breath brought a flood of scents to a wolf’s nose: The odor of human fear, thick and overwhelming as panic swirled in Moonshadow Hall; the musty scent of funeral drapes and candles; the rich smells of Idruth’s kitchen. She picked Velsinore’s scent out of the flood easily, though—musty like the drapes, but with a hint of something dark and metallic: the odor of the medicines in the infirmary. With a start, Feena realized she recognized that smell from somewhere else. It was remarkably similar to the Sharran poison. Not the same, but close, as if the medicines and the poison originated in the same place.

  What had Velsinore been doing?

  Feena loped after the priestess. Velsinore’s scent led down toward the kitchen. Feena growled. The kitchen garden … she couldn’t be the only person who knew the trick of getting out over the garden wall. With Moonshadow Hall on alert against the possibility of a Sharran attack, the door from the kitchen to the garden would certainly be sealed, but it wouldn’t be nearly as heavily guarded as the temple’s main gates.

  If it was sealed at all, she realized. The main gates were Mifano’s responsibility as the bearer of the Waxing Crescent, but the kitchen, like the infirmary, was Velsinore’s.

  She paused outside the kitchen and shifted back into her human shape, then opened the door carefully and peered inside. Everything seemed still and quiet. Across the cavernous room, she could see that the door to the garden had indeed been sealed. A huge plate of solid steel had been fastened into place over it. No one was getting into or out of Moonshadow Hall that way without considerable effort.

  Which meant that Velsinore was trapped inside the kitchen. Feena stepped through the door and put her back against a wall. There was still no movement.

  “Velsinore?” called Feena. “Velsinore, why did you do it? Why did you turn your back on Selûne?”

  “Turn my back on Selûne?” Velsinore’s voice came from somewhere to the right. Feena began to creep that way as the tall priestess spoke. “I’m no traitor, Feena.”

  “How can you say that?” Feena asked. She kept moving. A rack of pots drew her attention. Was that a shape crouched behind it?

  “Because it’s the truth. Don’t you remember the evidence of your own prayer?”

  Feena clenched her jaw and said, “When I came back to Moonshadow Hall with the poison from the Stiltways, you couldn’t deny the presence of Sharrans in Yhaunn quickly enough.”

  “The Sharrans were as surprised as you to learn that I knew about them,” said Velsinore. Her voice was quiet and Feena heard her shift slightly. The shape behind the rack of pots didn’t move—it was just a big cauldron. Feena froze and looked around as Velsinore continued, “You were right—whoever Variance is, I didn’t speak to her. The Sharrans in Yhaunn are led by—”

  “—Bolan,” Feena supplied. “You told Bolan and Bolan told Variance.”

  A tall cupboard stood strangely ajar. She slid toward it.

  Velsinore was silent for a moment, then hissed, “You know more than it seems.”

  “Keph told me. Bolan’s an alchemist as well as a Sharran priest.” Her eyes narrowed as she closed on the cupboard. “The medicines in the infirmary …”

  “Purchased from Bolan,” confirmed Velsinore. “Until I contacted him with news of Keph’s capture, he thought I was nothing more than a simple devotee who liked to gossip.” Her voice turned scornful. “It sounds like I played him just as Variance played Mifano. I’ve been drawing information about Sharran beliefs out of him ever since I stumbled across him a year ago.”

  Velsinore’s voice was close. Definitely close. Feena moved up to the cupboard from the side.

  “Why reveal yourself now, then?” asked Feena. “And why keep what you learned about the Sharrans a secret from Dhauna and Mifano?”

  “Turning over Keph seemed like an advantageous way to introduce myself. And why keep what I learned a secret?” She paused for a moment. “Let’s say I was biding my time. If Dhauna hadn’t lost her mind and brought you to Moonshadow Hall, I would have become the Moonmistress-Designate.”

  “What about Mifano?” Feena asked.

  Velsinore laughed and said, “He was never really a contender. I had Mother Dhauna’s ear.”

  “And when you were finally High Moonmistress, what then? What would you have done with all the information you had collected on the Sharrans? Wiped them out in one big raid and taken all the glory?”

  “Not exactly.” Velsinore’s voice dropped. “I would have invited them into Moonshadow Hall.”

  Feena froze, and Velsinore laughed again.

  “Let me put it in terms you’ll understand,” the traitor priestess said. “When you fight the servants of Malar—evil lycanthropes—what is it that sets you apart from them? You all become animals, don’t you? What is it that sets Sharrans apart from
Selûnites? Their darkness to our light? Do you know that we share many of the same legends?” Velsinore drew a slow breath and said, “I’m no traitor to Selûne, Feena. I’ve just realized that there’s more to the relationship between the Moonmaiden and the Mistress of the Night than our faith wants to admit.”

  It felt then as if Feena was back in her dream, with an ancient, whispering darkness pursuing her. Her stomach lurched in horror. Selûne had been trying to warn them of heresy within Moonshadow Hall—the very heresy Dhauna had dismissed as nothing more than lies. The New Moon Pact might have been framed for the heresy that had brought them low, but Velsinore had fallen straight into that twisted belief.

  Feena had rediscovered the New Moon Pact. Velsinore had rediscovered the New Moon Heresy.

  “Stop it!” Feena snarled.

  She lunged for the open door of the cupboard and ripped it wide.

  It was empty.

  Gray robes flashed in the corner of her eye. Feena spun around as Velsinore rose from behind the cauldron she had dismissed earlier. She took a step toward the tall priestess.

  “You’re wrong,” Feena spat. “Selûne and Shar are enemies!”

  “Maybe we only think they are.”

  Feena’s breath hissed between her teeth. “Our Silver Lady have mercy upon you, Velsinore. You’re wrong. You may not think you’re a traitor to Selûne, but you are!”

  “Then why does she still answer my prayers?” Velsinore thrust out her hand, Selûne’s medallion in her grasp. “Moonmaiden, scour my enemies!”

  A scream wrenched itself out of Feena as silver-white fire burst all around her, burning her flesh and searing her very soul.

  The Sharrans poured out of a cramped tunnel and through a splintered wall into a dusty cellar beneath a broom-maker’s shop. Had the shopkeeper known what the broken wall had hidden? Keph didn’t think so—there was blood on the shop floor and the smell of death in the air. Someone had been murdered to keep the newly opened passage a secret.

  Outside the shop, the night was sweltering hot and still. Clouds veiled the stars. Far off in the distance over the Sea of Fallen Stars, heat lightning lit the sky in silent display. Yhaunn seemed to hold its breath. The chants and clashing that had accompanied the cult through the tunnels beneath the city fell silent. Most of the cultists slipped into the shadows, and all Keph could think of was a swarm of rats darting through the streets.

  Variance walked down the center of the street like some kind of dark matron and where she walked the shadows grew deeper, cloaking her skulking children. Anyone meeting the dark tide in the street would surely vanish into it, and anyone glancing out a window would see nothing but thick shadow and vague figures.

  Keph had been counting the cultists. He edged up beside Variance as they strode along.

  “You have twenty-eight madmen and women following you,” he whispered. “That’s not going to be enough to launch an assault on Moonshadow Hall. If the Selûnites can’t stop you themselves, the city guard will!”

  Variance looked at him. He could barely see her face, but her voice was low and calm. “Are you trying to convince me to stop the attack?”

  His stomach twisted. “You’re leading the cult into a massacre.”

  Faster than he would have thought possible, her hand lashed out and dug into his shoulder. Her fingers were hard. He gasped.

  “You should only worry about the task ahead of you,” she said. “When the time comes, I suggest that you run for Fourstaves House very quickly. You won’t have long before the distraction begins.” Keph caught the flash of a frown. “For now, stay close and hold your tongue. I will turn Shar’s magic against you if I have to.”

  She released him and he staggered. A short distance away, Bolan snickered.

  “Keph! Hey, Keph!” Baret jogged over to him. “Where’s Jarull tonight?”

  Keph could feel Variance’s eyes on him. He ground his teeth together.

  “Jarull … is out of Yhaunn,” Keph lied. “He’s gone to Ravens Bluff.”

  “Why would he do that? He’s going to miss everything!”

  Baret sounded genuinely disappointed.

  “Maybe Shar called him,” Keph answered.

  “Dark!” Baret said in wonder. “Both of you touched by the goddess!” He drew a deep breath. “Talisk, Starne, and me were wondering if we could stand with you during the assault. Talisk says that if Shar rescued you from the Selûnites, she must have you marked. We could be an honor guard for you.”

  Keph’s throat seemed to close around his breath. “No,” he said.

  “Come on!”

  “I said, no!”

  Keph reached out and pushed the other man away. Baret stumbled and cursed.

  “Keph’s modesty ill becomes one favored of Shar,” interrupted Variance. Keph whirled on her. The priestess was wearing a smile. “The Lady of Loss has given him a special task tonight, one he must perform alone. But such faith as yours will be rewarded, Baret. Bring Talisk and Starne to me and receive the blessing of Shar’s own strength.”

  Awe crossed Baret’s face. “Yes, Mother Night!”

  He disappeared into the shadows. Variance watched after him for a moment. Keph glared at her.

  “He doesn’t deserve to die,” he said between clenched teeth.

  “He came to Shar’s embrace willingly—even more willingly than you did.” She stopped abruptly then called, “Bolan!”

  Without further instruction, Bolan swiftly herded the other cultists away from her. Keph looked around, uneasy. They stood at an intersection, a quiet square that stood under the watchful eye of a statue dedicated to some otherwise unremarkable merchant prince. He knew the square. Moonshadow Hall lay a short distance almost directly along one of the intersecting streets—and Fourstaves House off along another.

  “Perhaps,” said Variance, “you’ll find that Shar triumphs over Selûne after all, Keph.”

  Once again, the shadows seemed to thicken around her. Keph shuddered. In spite of himself, he took a step closer to the priestess. Facing the watching statue, she held out a hand and beckoned with two fingers.

  “By the power of the Mistress of the Night, I bid you come forth, O beasts of Shadow!”

  Around the plinth on which the statue stood, shadows lengthened and deepened, then swirled and condensed. Something within them moved—and five massive dogs came padding silently into the square. Keph shuddered and moved back. The dogs were as black as the night itself, with smooth, shining coats over thick muscles, and malevolent eyes above powerful jaws. And Variance wasn’t finished.

  “Come forth!” she said. “Come forth! In Shar’s name, come forth!”

  The black dogs kept coming until eighteen of the beasts squatted and stalked in the square. Even Shar’s faithful pressed back from them. One of the dogs growled at Bolan and the priest took a cautious step away.

  “Be calm,” Variance commanded. “They’re shadow mastiffs—our allies.” She raised her hands and Keph could feel the power that flowed from her as she made a final call. “Rax! Variance Amatick summons you to Shar’s service. Bound by ancient contracts, I call you now. Rax, stand forth!”

  The shadows didn’t so much condense then as collapse. The final shadow mastiff to step onto the square was as large as a warhorse and brutally scarred. All of the other dogs looked to it with deference.

  Variance held out her hand and said, “I would have you be my lieutenant tonight, Rax. Half of these beasts will be your pack. I ask only that you cause the greatest confusion possible.” Her hand swept around the square. “In return I offer three nights hunting upon Faerûn with Shar’s blessing.”

  The huge dog’s eyes narrowed and it let out a growl. Something about the sound of the black beast struck terror deep into Keph’s soul.

  Variance nodded calmly and said, “I thank you, Rax. Choose your pack and go. Your territory lies that way.”

  She turned and pointed—but not toward Moonshadow Hall or even Fourstaves House. She pointed down a
third street.

  Directly toward the night-crowded maze of the Stiltways.

  Rax growled again and trotted off. Nine of the other mastiffs followed. Variance turned to Keph.

  “There is your distraction,” she said. “You’d best hurry if you want to make the best of it. When you have the tiles, bring them to me at the east wall of Moonshadow Hall. I’ll be waiting for you.” Keph stared at her. Her eyebrows arched. “Go!” she commanded. Her hand jabbed in the direction of Fourstaves House.

  Keph whirled and ran. Behind him he could hear Variance as she called out to the cultists, “Come forward and receive Shar’s blessing, for now we join her battle!”

  The gout of divine fire lasted only moments, but it left Feena writhing on the floor of the kitchen. Footsteps approached—she forced herself to roll over and raise her head. Velsinore looked down at her. In her hands she clutched a long iron rod, a spit from the kitchen.

  “Tell me, Feena,” she said. “If Selûne is good and Shar is evil, then why does Selûne grant me the power to do this to you?”

  Feena looked down at her hands. They were burned red and raw. It hurt to flex her fingers. The sleeves of her robe were smoldering. She groaned and sat back on her heels, looking up at Velsinore.

  “I asked myself that question when Mother Dhauna forced me to attack her,” Feena snarled. Her lungs burned with every breath. “This is what I think: Selûne grants you power, but you choose how to use it. Selûne isn’t evil. You are.”

  Rage flared in Velsinore’s eyes and she swung the rod with both hands. Feena hurled herself aside, tumbling across the kitchen floor. The rod hit the stone of the floor with a resounding clang. Sparks and chips of stone spat from the impact. Velsinore heaved the rod back up and whirled after her, but Feena rolled back to her feet. One hand grabbed for her medallion.

  “Bright Lady of the Night, lay your touch upon me!” she prayed.

  Cool magic washed over her, soothing the worst of her burns. Feena gasped in relief and dodged back from another wild swing of Velsinore’s rod. She darted swiftly to the side of the big cauldron, putting it between her and the tall priestess.