by Dave Gross
Julith's eyes went wide. "Feena, you can't! Mifano should-"
"Mifano doesn't want the post. I spoke to him about that as well. He's too ashamed of being manipulated by Variance and of how he behaved toward me. I think you should let him keep the Waxing Crescent though He's very good at thathe suggested holding Lady Monstaed's properties in trust until the guard can determine what Variance did with the real Lady Monstaed when she took her place."
Julith simply stared, speechless.
Feena patted her cheek and said, "You'll do fine, Julith. You know everything about Moonshadow Hall. You have compassion and determination. After the way you took charge last night, the clergy are already looking to you for leadership." She smiled at the young priestess. "What do you say?"
"I… I'll do my best." She drew a deep breath and continued, "It won't be that bad, I'm sure. Six hundred years ago, Moonshadow Hall survived a High Moonmistress who couldn't talk."
Feena blinked. "Asha the Silent?"
"Yes!" said Julith. "How did you know?"
"I'll make you a copy of The Book of the New Moon. But only if you do me a favor." Putting her arms around both Julith and Keph, she turned them toward the brick-filled arch that stood in for the new moon gate onto the courtyard. Feena lifted her chin. "Open that up. The New Moon Pact has been reborn."
Variance sensed Rivalen Tanthul's presence as the high priest entered the archive chamber. She turned and bent her head in respect.
"Flame of Darkness," she whispered, "Singer after Twilight."
Rivalen bent his head as well, but his eyes stayed on her face.
"Vigilant sister," he said with a trace of awe. "What happened?"
Variance reached up and touched the long scar that cut across her right cheek and notched her ear.
"I was not sufficiently subtle," she said. "Shar writes her reprimand in my flesh."
"But you were successful."
He crossed the chamber to stand beside her. The Leaves of One Night rested on a cushion of black silk. The silver characters on the slates shimmered in the dimness. Rivalen examined them closely.
"They look like Netherese," he said, "but I can't read them."
"The script looks like all languages, Father Night," said Variance. "No one can read the text. The Leaves of One Night was cursed by Shar herself."
She opened the black wood doors of a cabinet and removed one of the many drawers within. Inside the drawer was a box of lead and dull gold. She took it out.
Rivalen looked at her and raised his eyebrows. "The Singer after Twilight commands you to speak, vigilant sister. It's time to give up some of your secrets. What do you know of The Leaves of One Night?"
"Only that and two things more," she said. "This is the first: touch the Leaves."
Rivalen extended a hand and rest it on the slates. He frowned and looked at Variance., "Speak a prayer to the Mistress of the Night," she told him.
His lips movedand he gasped. Wonder filled his face.
"The whispers are like the tides of Shadow!" he said.
"No one can understand them either, also the work of Shar's curse. But legend says that the whispers are the words of the text. The Leaves of One Night are alivealive and bound by the Lady of Loss."
Rivalen lifted his hand away from the Leaves and asked, "And the second thing?"
"Legends also say," Variance said, "that the text records Shar's only moment of weakness. She cursed the Leaves so no one would know it, even if it meant locking away all the other secrets of the Leaves as wellmagic of ancient darkness so profound they have yet to be rediscovered."
The high priest breathed in then whispered, "These secrets?"
Variance looked at him with narrowed eyes and said, "Inaccessible, Father Night. Unless you would work against the Lady of Loss herself."
Rivalen fell silent, then bowed his head. "As vou sav. vigilant sister." He stepped back and asked, "Is Shar pleased with the return of The Leaves of One Night?"
"Shar is pleased, Father Night."
Opening the box, she picked up the slates and set them carefully inside, then closed the box and placed it back in the drawer. Rivalen's footsteps retreated back across the chamber. She felt his presence fade.
She hesitated, then opened the box once more and laid a hand on the cold slate.
"Praise be to Shar, the Mistress of the Night," she whispered.
The whispers of darkness filled her head. Secrets beyond measure. Incomprehensible. Inaccessible. Except…
Variance looked down at the first page of The Leaves of One Night, at a blank spot on the black slate. A spot that should have been filled with the single silver character that shone on the thumb of Keph Thingoleir.
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