Mistress of the Night (19 page)

She turned and stalked away—then paused and twisted to look back at him.

"I owe you," she said, then she turned back around and continued on.

"You don't owe me anything!" he shouted after her.

He turned to the railing of the platform and looked out into the darkness of the Stiltways.

Dark, he thought silently. Mistress of the Night, are you the only one who can see me as more than the failed son of Strasus Thingoleir?

He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, then opened them again. He stood that way for a long while, listening as the sounds of the Cutter's Dip returned to normal at his back. The bleeding light of the tavern caught his shadow and threw it out, long and thin.

Heavy footsteps came creaking along the platform toward him. He twisted around. Jarull stood staring at him.

"What are you doing out here?" the big man asked in surprise.

Keph put on a false smile. "A little trouble," he laughed. "Nothing I couldn't handle." He swaggered up to his friend and punched him in the arm. "You should have been here. You would have enjoyed it!"

Jarull gave him a sober look and said, "Variance wants to see you."

All of Keph's swagger and bravado vanished. He slumped back against a wall.

"Dark, Jarull." He pushed his hands through his hair. "Did she say anything? Is she still angry?"

Three nights past, as he, Talisk, Starne, and Baret had staggered through the depths of the Stiltways celebrating his revenge against Lyraene, Variance had descended on them like the wrath of Shar herself. For Baret, still trembling after the Selunite's spell, the dark priestess's appearance had been too much. He had shrieked and

dropped where he stood. Talisk and Starne had fled. Keph had found himself backed into a corner as Variance stalked after him, shadows surging as if brought to life by her rage.

"You fool," she had seethed. "You fool! What were you thinking?"

But she hadn't even given him a chance to explain, just pointed a finger at him and hissed, "You will not see me or know Shar's favor again until I send for you!"

His heart had gone cold. All he'd been able to do was stare as she turned and vanished into the shadows. He hadn't seen her—or Bolan—since. He had not been summoned to the Sharran temple. Starne, Talisk, and Baret had taken to shunning him. Even Jarull had seemed distant. And when he tried to work the orison that Variance had taught him at his initiation, there had been nothing. Not after a thousand desperate prayers and hours of sitting in the dark. Shar had not answered him.

If Variance wanted to see him— He looked up at Jarull hopefully. The big man's face twisted.

"Hope is for the ignorant and the weak," he said in disgust. Keph flinched, and Jarull pointed and said, "There's a bookbinder's shop a street along that way and one level up. Go in. Variance is waiting for you."

Keph scrambled to his feet and ran in the direction his friend pointed.

He found the shop easily enough. It was closed for the night, of course. No light showed around the heavy shutters that covered its windows. Keph swallowed and reached for the door handle. The door was unlocked. He pushed it open and stepped inside, closing the door swiftly.

The shop smelled of leather, paper, and glue. Variance stood over a table on which half a dozen books were laid out. A single candle was set on the table as well, though its flame seemed writhed in shadow, dimming its light to the barest dull glimmer. The light certainly wasn't enough to read by. It came to Keph that Variance didn't need the light. She belonged to Shar. She lived within the

darkness. The candle was there for him, a reminder of his weakness.

"Writing," Variance said without looking up, "is a marvelous thing. Someone can write down a thought they had or a story they heard or a description of something they experienced, and that thought or story or experience is preserved. It will last as long as the writing itself lasts. If the writing is copied, it can last even longer. Through writing, even the humblest man or woman can become, in a way, immortal. Without magic. Without the favor of the gods."

She reached out and turned a page in one of the books.. Keph waited in silence while Variance turned another page, and another. He wanted to fall down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. He didn't dare. What would another misstep cost him? He waited and the hollow in his heart seemed to grow into an empty, desolate void.

Just when it seemed he had to cry out or go mad, Variance finally looked up.

"And now," she said, "you begin to understand Shar's great sorrow. She may be the Mistress of the Night, but she is also the Lady of Loss. When Selune kindled fire in the darkness of creation, she did so without thought for her sister. Ever since that first dawn, Shar has ached for the simple peace that Selune tore from her." Variance stepped away from the table. "Do you understand, Keph?"

He nodded. He could feel tears on his cheeks. Variance studied him. When she spoke, her voice was soft.

"What were you thinking when you attacked that half-elf?"

"I wanted to hurt her," Keph said. The words burst out of him. "I wanted to hurt her the way she hurt me. She mocked me with what I didn't have, so I wanted to take it away from her." He wiped at his face with the heel of his palm. "I wanted to honor Shar with Lyraene's loss!"

"Ah."

Variance turned and began to close the books on the table. Keph clenched his jaw.

"I'm sorry, Variance!" he blurted. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—"

She turned on hini sharply.

"Now," she hissed, "you dishonor Shar! The agony of an enemy's spirit, that is joy to the Mistress of the Night. Regret—" She slammed the cover of the final book. "Regret is no honor. Especially false regret." She glared at him. "Everything that you did to Lyraene, you did deliberately."

Keph stumbled back. "No..." he gasped. Variance raised her eyebrows. Keph's hands curled into fists. "I mean, yes. Yes, everything was deliberate. But I didn't mean to dishonor Shar!" He sank down to his knees. "Please, Variance. Forgive me!"

Variance's pale face was cold. "Shar does not forgive."

Keph felt his heart drop out of his chest.

"But," added Variance, "she does teach." She reached down and offered Keph her hand. He took it and rose. "If you wish to truly honor Shar, Keph, you must be patient. The Selunites would erase us from Faerun, just as Selune tried to erase her sister's darkness. Think ... if you had been patient, if you had taken Lyraene somewhere else...."

"The priest of Selune wouldn't have found us," Keph said. He clenched his teeth and looked at Variance. "But he did find us. Variance, the Selunites—"

The priestess silenced him with a gesture and said, "The Selunites don't recognize Shar's hand in what you tried to do."

"But Lyraene or her friends must have told someone what happened," Keph protested. Variance tilted her head.

"Is this the first you've thought of that possibility?" she asked.

Keph blinked, and flushed. Not one guard had so much as come calling on Fourstaves House since his attack on Lyraene. He'd been so terrified by Variance's rage that the fact hadn't crossed his mind.

"Yes," he admitted in a whisper.

"And how would you have dealt with her accusations if you had carried out your revenge to its fullest extent?"

He swallowed and said, "I didn't think of it."

Variance slapped him across the face.

"Shar favors you more than anyone could have guessed!" she cursed. Keph hung his head. Variance forced his chin up. "I have visited Lyraene," she said. "Shar grants me certain powers over the minds of the weak. Lyraene recalls the duel and her injury, but not your malice. She bears anger for you, but not outrage. You're fortunate I was able to reach her in time."

Keph stared into the priestess's cold eyes, then glanced away.

"Thank you, Variance," he said.

"Patience and subtly, Keph," she said, and she finally released him. "Bolan doesn't believe you have the potential to become a priest."

Keph bristled at the comment. "I—"

"Hush." Variance silenced him again. "I don't share Bolan's opinions. Shar has great plans for you, Keph. I'm certain of it. Perhaps they will be revealed soon. Until then, you need to bide your time. Let the spirit inside you burn, but give no one cause to guess your true allegiance. Shar's worship prospers in secret—this is the Dark Goddess's lesson. Do you understand?"

He nodded. She touched her fingers to his forehead in silence, then stepped back.

"You have seen me again. Know Shar's favor once more."

It felt like a yoke had been lifted form his shoulders. Keph gasped in joy.

"Hail to the Mistress of the Night!" he sighed.

Variance gave him a cool smile and folded her hands.

"Go," she said. "I told Jarull to await your return."

Keph bowed low before her and turned, walking through the door and back out into the Stiltways. His heart felt as light as it had after his initiation, but without the sense of invulnerability that had led him astray. A mistaken invulnerability! He breathed a sigh

of relief for the second time that night.

Jarull was leaning back in a shadow just where Keph had left him. He started upright as Keph approached— and his somber expression was shattered by a grin as he saw Keph's face.

"She forgave you!" he whooped.

"She taught me," Keph said, but he returned Jarull's grin and swung an arm around his shoulder. "Let's see if we can find Starne and the others." He looked along the platform toward the Cutter's Dip. "I feel like tonight is just getting started."

CHAPTER 9

Drinking. Singing. Stumbling from tavern to tavern to tavern by night, then by day, then by night again. A fight. Another fight. Just like old times; Jarull by his side. Better because Starne, Baret, and Talisk were there as well.

And better because of the dark secret in his heart: Shar's favor. The Mistress of the Night's plans for him.

Variance had told him to let his spirit burn. Keph let it rage like an inferno until it seemed as if every tavern in the Stiltways—and some beyond—knew his name and face. Until even Baret, Starne, and Talisk had, one by one, dropped away, unable to keep up. Until it was just him and Jarull striding the nights once again.

"All right, tosspots, up. Up! Time to go home!"

A guard ran a stick along the bars of the cell while another unlocked the door and swung it wide.

Keph opened sticky eyes to the harmony of squealing hinges and groaning drunks. He sat up on the rough wooden bench he'd managed to claim and looked around at the disorderly cell in Yhaunn's north side guard station—a fine place to spend the night. He hauled himself to his feet and joined the other men and women the city guard had brought in during the night before as they filed out the door, then formed a queue to retrieve any possessions they had been arrested with.

There was no sign of Jarull. A hazy memory swam into Keph's mind: a dash away from the pursuing guard, an ignoble tumble as his foot landed in something wet and slippery, Jarull continuing on and vanishing into the shadows. Lucky Jarull.

The guard at the desk raised her eyebrows as he stepped up.

"Good morning again, Keph. Sleep well?" she asked.

"I think a rat crawled into my mouth while I slept, Fris. You should do something about the pests around here."

"Well, we shove them out the door every morning, but it seems like more just crawl in every night." She pushed Quick and a coin pouch across the desk to him. "Twice in three days you've landed here. Let's try to get it back down to once a month like old times, eh?"

"Your concern is noted, Fris."

Keph wiggled his fingers into his pouch. It was a flat and shriveled thing, wasted away by the past few days' activities. He found a couple of silver coins, though, and slid them back to the guard. She made them disappear as the next inmate stepped up. Keph buckled Quick back around his waist and headed for the guard station's big door.

The light of early morning hit him like a god's vengeance. He groaned and threw up a hand to shade his eyes. The air was already uncomfortably warm. It was going

to be a very hot day. With luck he would be able to sleep through most of it.

It was a long, painful stagger to Fourstaves House. His head throbbed, his joints ached, and his mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with wool combed from a sheep's backside. At a public well, he stopped, drew up a bucket of water, and tried to rinse the foul taste from his mouth. The rest of the water he poured over his head until he was gasping from the cold. His hair was still dripping when he reached the doors of Fourstaves House, but at least the pain in his head had ebbed and faded.

The stone guard dogs were still as statues by daylight. Keph resisted the urge to kick them anyway and went inside. The entry hall was filled with savory odors that cut through his hangover to make his stomach growl with desire. Following his nose, he stumbled for the dining room.

Strasus, Dagnalla, Malia, Roderio, and Krin Foxrun were all seated at one end of the table. They fell silent as he walked in. He ignored them and walked straight for the covered trays and dishes set out on a sideboard. Conversation returned slowly.

"I think I've found a clue in the coins of the cache," Krin said. "The other artifacts may be ancient Netherese, but most of the coins are more recent and come from one of Netheril's survivor states, Anauria. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to find enough information about Anaurian rulers to date the coins accurately, but we do know Anauria fell to ores in the Year of Fallen Guards, 111 DR. No more Anaurian coins were minted after that. Of course, the coins could have been collected after the country's fall, but with so many in one place I would guess that it's more like they came directly from Anauria."

"Good, good," nodded Strasus. "So we have an end date, then." He stroked his beard. "And more than two hundred years before the founding of Selgaunt and Saerloon. What about-?"

"—a possible beginning date?" Krin sounded pleased with himself. Keph rolled his eyes in boredom as he