Silverthorn. Raymond E. Feist

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СКАЧАТЬ said, ‘Two guards may enter, but they will stand away from the prisoner. Madam, you will cooperate and enter, now.’ Arutha’s tone left little doubt of his mood. The High Priestess might be commander of a powerful sect, but before her stood the ruler of the Kingdom absolute, save the King, a man who would brook no interference in some matter of paramount importance. She nodded to the two foremost guards, and they entered. The door was closed behind them, and the two guards were taken off to one side by Gardan. Outside, the palace guards kept watchful eyes upon the remaining temple guards and the wicked curved swords carried at their belts.

      Father Nathan greeted the High Priestess with a stiffly formal bow, their two orders having little affection for each other. The High Priestess chose to ignore the priest’s presence.

      Her first remark upon seeing the pentagram upon the floor was ‘Do you fear otherworld interference?’ Her tone was suddenly analytical and even.

      It was Nathan who answered. ‘Lady, we are not sure of many things, but we do seek to prevent complications from whatever source, physical or spiritual.’

      She did not acknowledge his words but stepped as close to the two men, one dead and the other wounded, as she could. Seeing the black tunics, she faltered a step, then turned to face Arutha. Through the veil he could almost feel her malevolent gaze upon him. ‘These men are of my order. How do they come to lie here?’

      Arutha’s face was a mask of controlled anger. ‘Madam, it is to answer that question that you have been fetched. Do you know these two?’

      She studied their faces. ‘I do not know this one,’ she said, pointing to the dead man with the grey lock in his hair. ‘But the other is a priest of my temple, named Morgan, newly come to us from our temple in Yabon.’ She paused for a moment as she considered something. ‘He wears the mark of a brother of the Order of the Silver Net.’ Her head came around, facing Arutha once more. ‘They are the martial arm of our faith, supervised by their Grand Master in Rillanon. And he answers to none save our Mother Matriarch for his order’s practices.’ She paused again. ‘And then only sometimes.’ Before anyone could comment, she continued. ‘What I do not understand is how one of my temple priests came to wear their mark. Is he a member of the order, passing himself off as a priest? Is he a priest playing the part of a warrior? Or is he neither priest nor brother of the order, but an impostor on both counts? Any of those three possibilities is forbidden, at risk of Lims-Kragma’s wrath. Why is he here?’

      Arutha said, ‘Madam, if what you say is true’ – she seemed to tense at the implication of a possible falsehood – ‘then what is occurring concerns your temple as much as it concerns me. Jimmy, speak what you know of the Nighthawks.’

      Jimmy, obviously uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the Death Goddess’s High Priestess, spoke quickly and forwent his usual embellishments. When he finished, the High Priestess said, ‘Highness, what you say is a deed foul in the nostrils of our goddess.’ Her voice was cold rage. ‘In times past, certain of the faithful sought sacrifices, but those practices are long abandoned. Death is a patient goddess; all will come to know her in time. We need no black murders. I would speak to this man.’ She indicated the prisoner.

      Arutha hesitated and noticed Father Nathan shaking his head slightly. ‘He is close to death, less than hours without any additional stress upon him. Should the questioning prove rigorous, he might die before we can plumb the depths of these dark waters.’

      The High Priestess said, ‘What cause for concern, priest? Even dead, he is still my subject. I am Lims-Kragma’s ephemeral hand. In her manor I will find truths no living man can obtain.’

      Father Nathan bowed. ‘In the realm of death, so you are supreme.’ To Arutha he said, ‘May my brothers and I withdraw, Highness? My order finds these practices offensive.’

      The Prince nodded, and the High Priestess said, ‘Before you go, remove the prayer of slowness you have called down upon him. It will cause less difficulty than should I do it.’

      Nathan quickly complied and the man on the bed began to groan feverishly. The priest and acolytes of Sung hurriedly left the room, and when they were gone, the High Priestess said, ‘This pentagram will aid in keeping outside forces from interfering with this act. I would ask all to remain outside, for within its bounds each person creates ripples in the fabric of magic. This is a most holy rite, for whatever the outcome, our lady will most surely claim this man.’

      Arutha and the others waited outside the pentagram and the priestess said, ‘Speak only when I have given permission, and ensure the candles do not burn out, or forces may be loosed that would prove … troublesome to recall.’ The High Priestess drew back her black veil, and Arutha was almost shocked at her appearance. She looked barely more than a girl, and a lovely one at that, with blue eyes and skin the colour of dawn’s blush. Her eyebrows promised her hair would be the palest gold. She raised her hands overhead and began to pray. Her voice was soft, musical, but the words were strange and fearful to hear.

      The man on the bed squirmed as she continued her incantation. Suddenly his eyes opened and he stared upwards. He seemed to convulse, straining at the bonds that restrained him. He relaxed, then turned to face the High Priestess. A distant look crossed his face, as his eyes seemed to focus and unfocus in turn. After a moment a strange, sinister smile formed on his lips, an expression of mocking cruelty. His mouth opened and the voice that issued forth was deep and hollow. ‘What service, mistress?’

      The High Priestess’s brow furrowed slightly as if there was something askew in his manner, but she maintained her poise and said in commanding tones, ‘You wear the mantle of the Order of the Silver Net, yet you practise in the temple. Explain this falsehood.’

      The man laughed, a high shrieking cackle that trailed off. ‘I am he who serves.’

      She stopped, for the answer was not to her liking. ‘Answer then, who do you serve?’

      There came another laugh and the man’s body tensed once more, pulling against the restraining ropes. Beads of sweat popped out upon his brow, and the muscles of his arms corded as he drew himself against the ropes. Then he relaxed and laughed again. ‘I am he who is caught.’

      ‘Who do you serve?’

      ‘I am he who is a fish. I am in a net.’ Again came the mad laughter and the near-convulsive straining at the ropes. As the man strained, sweat poured off his face in rivulets. Shrieking, he pulled again and again at the restraints. As it seemed he would break his own bones with exertion, the man screamed, ‘Murmandamus! Aid your servant!’

      Abruptly one of the candles blew out as a wind from some unknown place swept across the room. The man reacted with a single convulsive spasm, bowing his body in a high arch, with only his feet and head touching the bed, pulling against the ropes with such force that his skin tore and bled. Suddenly he collapsed upon the bed. The High Priestess fell back a step, then crossed to look down on the man. Softly she said, ‘He is dead. Relight the candle.’

      Arutha motioned and a guard lit a taper from another candle and relit the extinguished one. The priestess began another incantation. While the first had been mildly discomforting, this one carried a feeling of dread, a chill from the farthest corner of some lost and frozen land of wretchedness. It carried the echo of the cries of those without comfort or hope. Yet within it was another quality, powerful and attractive, an almost seductive feeling that it would somehow be wonderful to lay aside all burdens and rest. As the spell continued, the feelings of foreboding increased, and those who waited fought against the desire to run far from the sound of the High Priestess’s spell casting.

      Suddenly the spell was over, and the room lay as quiet as СКАЧАТЬ