“Then you should know better than this insolence.”
The vané shrugged. “He’s not yours and he never will be. Why don’t you go back to looking for Yorish virgins? There must be a fast eight-year-old somewhere in the mountains who’s escaped the attention of your minions.”
A sound like granite rocks being scraped against one another issued from the cowled robe of the smallest Brotherhood member: he or she or it was laughing.
Dethic reached forward, hesitantly, holding the hawk medallion containing a piece of my soul in his hand. Both men facing him stared at the pendant as if either one would grab it away from the slave-trader, sale or no sale.
“You’ve made a serious mistake, young vané,” Relos Var cautioned. “I’ll remember you.”
The vané grinned, sharp and feral. “Not ‘young vané,’ please. Mortal enemies should be on a first-name basis.”
“That’s what you think you are? My mortal enemy? Suckling at Thaena’s teats has made you so hungry for a short, ugly death?” Relos Var seemed to find that thought amusing. “What is your name then?”
“Teraeth.” The vané’s eyes glowed,* mocking satisfaction played across his features. I didn’t know why the vané hated this man so much, but he was emphatic. I started to back away, not to escape, but simply to stay out of the splatter zone.
“Teraeth?” Relos Var said. “You have not the coloring of that line, unless…” His eyes widened in triumph. “Not just arrogant, but foolish. Your father Terindel isn’t here to save you, vané child, and you are no match for the likes of me.”
“Terindel isn’t here,” the vané with the terrible voice said, “but I am. And I’ll protect my son, wizard.”
The mage looked at the figure, his forehead creased with anger and then recognition. “Khaemezra. Clever. Very clever.”
“It has been some time, Relos.” The words might have been friendly save for the harsh iciness of the voice.
“We could help each other, High Priestess. Our goals are not so different.”
“Poor child, you think so? Foolish—but then, you always confused death with annihilation.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. The expression on his face verged on a growl. “You, of all beings, should understand inevitability.”
“Perhaps the real problem is I understand it better than you.”
There was no way for Relos Var to make eye contact with the old woman, who had never pulled back her hood, but I imagined the two were staring at each other. Relos Var seemed intent on a contest of wills, and his gaze never left her.
He shuddered and looked away.
A tsking sound emanated from underneath her hood, chasing down a dry chuckle and gobbling it whole.
Relos Var glanced back at Teraeth. “This isn’t over between us.”
“I sincerely hope not,” Teraeth agreed. He wore a wolf’s grin, showing no fear.
Relos Var turned to me.
His expression wasn’t what I expected: not frustration, pity, lust, or even resignation. Hate raged in those dark eyes. His malice burned. His eyes held no promise of rescue, no offered salvation. Whatever his interest in purchasing me, that interest circled around a core of malevolence.
He was not my friend.
“I have found you now,” he told me in a whisper. “I have seen the color of your soul.”
A dozen snappy comebacks thought about crossing my lips, but under that baleful stare they all huddled at the back of my throat.
Relos Var turned on his heel and walked out of the room.
Even amongst the members of the Black Brotherhood, there was an almost visible release of tension as he left, as if the clouds parted to reveal the sun.
The seconds crawled by as no one spoke.
Teraeth shook off the dread first. He snatched the medallion from Dethic’s shaking fingers. “Take those things off him.”
“I … what? Things?” Dethic stood blinking in the direction of the door. He had a look of horror on his face—the terrible fascination normally reserved for the damage path of a rampaging demon.
Teraeth pinched the eunuch’s shoulder. “Shackles, Dethic. Shackles. A gaeshed slave has no need to be in irons.”
Dethic jumped out of his reverie. “What? Oh yes, sorry. Right away.” He fumbled the keys from his belt pouch and unlocked me.
I winced as the shackles fell away. I had been in chains so long their release was simply a different kind of pain.
“Relos Var isn’t angry at you, Dethic. Stay out of his way for a while and he’ll soon forget,” Teraeth cautioned. “See if your masters will let you take a leave of absence.”
“Right, right.” Dethic still looked dazed. “I’ll fetch your carriage.” He stumbled as he ran from the room.
The three members of the Black Brotherhood turned their attention to me.
“Who are you people?” I asked.
Teraeth snickered. “You weren’t paying attention?”
“I heard names. Black Brotherhood. It doesn’t mean anything to me.”
The third figure finally spoke with a silky female purr. “If you’re in Quur and want something stolen, or someone beaten, there are plenty you may hire for the task. But if you want someone dead, quietly and without fuss, and you wish to be sure they will stay that way…” She left the end of the sentence hanging in the air.
I was weak and upset, but I felt argumentative. “The priests of Thaena might have something to say about whether someone stays dead.”
The hooded old woman pulled at the robe covering her neck, revealing an amulet: a rectangular black stone, framed with red roses and ivory—the symbol of Thaena’s disciples.
I felt a chill. There are those who don’t think of the Second Veil as a diaphanous shroud, but an unknowable portal to Thaena’s realm. A final portal one never enters, only exits; a journey most only Return from to start the cycle over as a mewling babe. The church of Thaena boasts the fewest devout worshippers, but is universally respected to either avoid its attention or beg the favor of its mistress. Bring my baby back to me. Return my family. Give me back the people I love.
Such prayers go unanswered. Thaena is a cold goddess.
And Relos Var had called Khaemezra her “High Priestess.”
“Thaena’s priests—and priestesses—do influence who stays dead,” Teraeth explained. “For some reason, the Pale Lady rarely agrees to Return those we have taken.”
“But Thaena’s priests wear white, not black…”
Okay, I admit it: as arguments go, it wasn’t my best work.
Teraeth’s only answer was harsh laughter.
Khaemezra turned away from me without comment and raised her arms. She flicked her fingers outward and strands of light spun out from her fingertips and coalesced into a large round portal made up of complicated skeins of glowing magic. The lights shimmered, then shrank. Through the opening I saw a yellow, twisted land with steam erupting from vents in the ground and bilious fog hugging the dank earth.