"And what if there were nothing to find?"
"I knew there was," she admitted. "I wouldn't have risked sailing the Sandusky Shoal, otherwise."
I clenched my teeth and wrestled down the temptation to fling the box at Lapis's head. "Tell me everything."
Her shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh. "When my grandfather was a young man, he and his cousin, Shoffir Banni, collected artifacts and lore associated with the legendary city of Xanchara. For years theirs was a friendly rivalry, but Shoffir... changed. He became ambitious, obsessed with finding the Reliquary of the Drowned God, a powerful magical item thought to have been lost with the city. My grandfather knew it was not in Xanchara when the city disappeared into the sea. He knew it could be found, and he became concerned about what Shoffir would do if he found it."
"And what, exactly, might that be?"
Lapis shook a finger at me. "Story first, then questions. When Shoffir showed Gham the whale-skin map, Gham realized what the map was, where it led, and what the likely outcome of the voyage would be."
"Death to Shoffir and anyone unfortunate enough to sail with him."
"Yes," she said, confirming my grim assessment without a single bat of her painted lashes. "So of course, he encouraged Shoffir to go."
"Of course." I silently vowed to remind myself of this moment if ever I'm troubled by my own lack of family.
"But Shoffir, suspicious, invited him to come along. Gham agreed, believing that keeping Shoffir from finding the Reliquary was a worthwhile cause in which to die."
This was where the story joined paths with that I knew. "But the crew discovered the map. They mutinied and set Shoffir and Gham adrift in a small boat, but not soon enough." I paused for a grim smile. "The ship was scuttled by mermaids, probably the very mermaids you so considerately warned me about."
Now, I should probably note that I have no problem telling the occasional lie. Sea elves, not mermaids, brought down Shoffir Banni's ship. But in a way, my lie told more truth than Lapis's evasions. Mermaids created a map that would lure sailors to that spot, forcing the elves to defend their hidden city. Why would they do this? Most likely they were following the same impulse that prompts humans to toss roosters into a ring and watch them fight and kill. A mermaid's amusement might be more convoluted, but it's not so very different.
"There was a terrible storm," Lapis continued. "The rowboat sank. Gham washed up on the shore a few miles from Totras, more dead than alive. There was never any sign of Shoffir. Gham kept the whale-skin map in case someone knew what Shoffir sought, and went in search of the Reliquary."
"Because few things protect a secret better than a false trail with a fatal ending."
Lapis nodded somberly. "I wouldn't have undertaken that voyage without you. You knew to expect the mermaid. You know how to deal with monsters of the deep. Few people have your knowledge or skills."
I waited for a moment before asking, "And that's everything?"
She shrugged and spread her hands as if to say, "What else could there be?"
I answered her unspoken question by pulling a small knife from my boot and prying two emeralds from the ebony box. The first was attached to a tiny, slender key. I inserted it into the opening left by the second emerald and gave it a twist. The bottom of the box swung open, revealing a shallow hidden compartment. I took from it a tiny star chart bordered by runes. The chart was embossed on a thin sheet of silvery metal, shiny enough to reflect Lapis's wide-eyed surprise back to her.
"What is this? Don't bother pretending you don't know."
She gave up the effort at once. "A spell scroll," she said flatly. "Properly cast, it will summon a creature from the Dark Tapestry."
And there it was: the reason why the Night Heralds wanted this box. This was the secret Gham Banni had been willing to die to protect. The creature it summoned was probably once numbered among the many Vudrani gods Vanir Shornish venerated, which would explain his interest in the relic. It even explained why the Night Heralds involved Vanir. I did not recognize the runes on the metal spell scroll, but the Vudrani cleric, a collector of antiquities and a devotee of many small gods, was probably able to read a dozen ancient, obscure languages.
"So the box is important, after all. If it's not the Reliquary, perhaps it's meant to hold it?" I flipped open the lid. "What's supposed to go here? And more importantly, does Vanir Shornish have it? Do the Night Heralds?"
"They do not," Lapis said emphatically. She glanced out of the carriage window. "Good. We're here."
The litter-bearers came to a halt before a small, shoulder-high platform designed for docking such conveyances. After the men slid the litter into place, I stepped out and took stock of the situation while Lapis dickered over payment with the litter's captain.
Vanir Shornish lived in a white limestone fortress. At either end stood a tower, topped by an onion-dome roof, and the whole was surrounded by tall, stout-looking walls. The wooden door facing the street was twice my height and banded with iron bars.
I climbed down the stairs and gave a bell rope a quick tug. Almost instantly the door swung open and Vanir bustled out, beaming with delight. The pristine white garments draping his ample form gleamed in the midday sun. I blinked, momentarily snow-blinded by his clerical splendor.
"Channa Ti, so wonderful to see you again! And so soon!" A flicker of concern twitched across his plump face. "Not too soon, I hope. Did you find—"
"Yes."
"Of course you did! Splendid, splendid."
For a moment I thought he would embrace me. Fortunately for all concerned, Lapis emerged from the cluster of burly litter carriers. Vanir fell back a step, his little black eyes widening. I was not surprised by his reaction. The little dancer's long, shining black hair and gem-blue silks caught many an appreciative eye.
"Is that... Tannabit Banni? Thousand gods, child, how you've grown! Your grandfather is well, I trust?"
"He's dead," I said. "And the sooner we get behind that wall, the less likely we are to join him."
The blood drained from Vanir's sun-browned face, leaving it a sickly ashen hue. Lapis sent me a reproachful glance and moved forward to give the cleric a daughterly embrace.
"Long years, Most Reverend Vanir," she said sweetly. "My grandfather spoke well of your scholarship. As his student and heir, I am honored to renew our acquaintance. I hope you don't mind that I accompanied Channa Ti?"
"Not at all, not at all." Bolstered by the dancer's praise, Vanir managed to collect himself. He bowed and gestured to the open door, the very picture of a welcoming host.
"Only the Night Heralds would be arrogant enough to presume they could enslave one of their own gods."
Lapis handed a large coin bag to the litter captain and followed Vanir in. I looked around as he bolted the door behind us.
The mansion was built around a courtyard, which in turn was dominated by a deep, rectangular pool of water. It was, by any measure, a place of rare luxury. White marble tiles surrounded the pool. Flowers bloomed profusely in colorful glazed pots. A silk-draped pavilion provided shade, as did a trio of date palms. But the most striking aspect of the courtyard was the wall beyond the pool. Many niches had been carved into the white limestone, and all of them appeared to hold icons or relics.
Vanir noted my scrutiny. "My humble altar," he said in a tone that was anything but humble. "The result of a lifetime of devotion. A place is prepared for the Reliquary of the Drowned God. Come see."
The cleric was off at a brisk waddle before either Lapis or I could demur. We exchanged a quick glance and followed him around the pool.
He stopped before an arched niche and started to reach for the small black idol within. Almost immediately he checked himself. His hand dropped to his side and a shudder of fear and revulsion rippled through his plump form.
I immediately und
erstood his reaction. The thing was ugly beyond description, hideous in a way that went far beyond form. A quick glance was enough to send pain lancing through my temples, enough to burn an image in my mind of writhing tentacles studded with fanged lamprey mouths.
"Tychilarius," Varir said in a low, somber voice. "A dark god from a dark time. I will sleep more sweetly now that I can hold in my hand proof that his time is long past."
"About that," Lapis said.
Vanir's head whipped around to face her.
"You've no doubt heard of the Night Heralds."
Shock jolted through his eyes, and his face fell slack with horror. "No. Surely not."
She nodded. "They have been watching you. They intend for you to summon Tychilarius."
The cleric clutched at his ears and shook his head in furious denial. "But I would never do such a thing! I would do nothing at all for the Night Heralds!"
"No, of course not," she said soothingly. She took the box from me and handed it to Vanir. "But you will do it for me."
I didn't think it was possible for Vanir Shornish to look more frightened, but the grim purpose in Lapis's voice turned his face a lighter shade of gray.
There are moments in life when one is struck, usually too late, by some profoundly unpleasant insight. At that moment I realized that, despite all, I had grown to like and trust Lapis. I, Channa Ti, the druid who had no need of a companion animal, the half-elf who had no reason to trust her elven kin, the Pathfinder who expected betrayal at every turn. It also occurred to me that trusting Lapis might be the most—and last—foolish thing I ever did.
The sharp, acrid scent of impending lightning was our only warning. All three of us spun toward the threat, only to reel back from an explosion that sent waves of dark power pulsing through the courtyard.
A blue imp, a hideous, vaguely human-shaped creature resembling the unholy offspring of a mantis and a rock lizard, hovered in the shade of the date palms. A halo of dark, sparkling light surrounded it.
I pulled a dagger from my belt and glanced at the round opal hanging from a chain around Lapis's neck. "You let Janu out of that thing?"
"The opal wasn't meant to imprison such creatures," she said, her brow furrowed with concern. "They soon return to their true place."
Somehow I doubted she referred to Vanir's courtyard. If the imp had been summoned again from its homeland, it was once again acting on behalf of the Night Heralds. No doubt they were close behind.
Vanir's slack-jawed shock gave way to panic. He shrieked like a girl-child and brandished the jeweled box at the imp like the holy item he believed it to be. The creature responded with a fang-filled grin and swooped toward the cleric, bat-wings flapping and clawed hands reaching for the box.
Lapis leaped in front of Vanir and spun into a high kick. Her foot caught the imp squarely in the chest and sent it hurtling to one side. The imp slammed into the niche-carved wall. It slid down, arms flailing, and fell backward into the alcove housing an alabaster statue of a swan with a woman's head.
A true holy item.
Fetid steam poured from the niche, and a searing hiss mingled with the creature's shriek of pain.
Janu tumbled out and fell to the ground, still smoking. The imp turned a baleful glare upon Lapis and gathered itself for an attack.
"Go, Channa," Lapis said, her gaze fixed on the imp. "Go now. Trust me, you'll only make matters worse."
"Trust you? Trust you?"
For some reason, this seemed to surprise Lapis. She sent me a quick, startled glance. Her gaze skipped past me and her eyes widened in an expression too fleeting to interpret, too swift to be feigned.
I turned to see what had caught Lapis's eye. The dark halo that had surrounded Janu had grown to nearly the height of a man. From that glittering oval stepped—
Gham Banni.
After that first, heart-stopping moment of recognition, I realized my mistake. My venture-captain had been a small man, thin and wiry and as bald as an egg. Time had dug deep furrows into his face, which had the same fine features and patrician, red-brown hue as his granddaughter's. This man was alike enough to be Gham's twinborn brother. But my venture-captain's eyes had never been so cold and empty, and he would have cut his own throat before he would don the robes of a Night Herald.
Lapis dipped into a pretty curtsey, her painted eyes demurely downcast and one hand resting over her heart.
"Greetings, Honored Cousin. I am Tannabit Banni, Gham's granddaughter and heir. As you can see, I have brought you everything you need."
She rose and swept her hand in an arc that included Vanir, the jeweled box... and me.
More Night Heralds came through the black gate. Not knowing what else to do, I drew a second dagger and kicked into a running charge.
Lapis leaped into my path. One small foot lashed up, faster than thought, and caught me under the chin.
My head snapped back. A second jolt struck the back of my skull, and in some dim, pain-shrouded part of my mind I realized I had fallen straight back onto the marble tiles.
Pain swept me down, inexorable as the tide. Lapis's face swam into view for a moment, then disappeared as the dark waters engulfed us both.
I woke to the sound of chanting accompanied by an insistent chorus of booming thuds. A moment passed before I separated the pounding in my head from that coming from the courtyard door. An eternity later, I managed to pry open my eyes.
I was lying on my back, my arms raised over my head and my feet spread. When I tried to move, I realized that I was bound to an X-shaped frame. The Night Heralds had come well prepared.
Lapis crouched over me, busy with the ropes securing my left wrist. Her opal pendant brushed my face as she leaned over to tighten the other side.
Shoffir Banni stood over us, wringing his hands and darting furtive glances toward the door. "Hurry, child. The spell must be cast before they break through."
"The spell must be cast," she agreed. Her gaze brushed against mine, slid away. "The transformation must take place. The half-elf will resist it, of course, but waiting too long could be fatal for us all."
My jaw throbbed where she'd kicked me. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that it was broken. Speech was probably impossible. I tried anyway.
"Look at me."
My voice was rough, barely more than a whisper, but Lapis heard. For a moment our eyes met, and I saw what there was to see.
I tore one hand free of the ropes, ignoring the pain of torn skin and small, broken bones, and struck Lapis across the face as hard as I could. My hand tangled in the dangling pendant. The chain broke, and the opal rolled toward the pool.
"Never mind that," Shoffir snarled as Lapis lunged toward the gem. Her fingers brushed it, but only succeeded in speeding its way into the water.
He held me down while Lapis retied the ropes on my bleeding wrist. That accomplished, she rose and opened the false bottom of the ebony box. She handed the little metal scroll to Vanir Shornish.
Sweat poured in rivulets down the cleric's face, but his voice was sonorous and firm as he began the incantation.
Something gathered around me, pushed at me.
Imagine the agony of standing in the hot breath of a desert dragon, the horror of finding yourself in the intimate embrace of a rotting corpse. Imagine the scent and taste of jackal dung and the writhing spasms of nausea as your body fights to rid itself of the foulness. Imagine feeling all those things, all at once, and you will begin to know what I felt.
"It seems the Reliquary is full of secrets after all."
Four of the Night Heralds, still chanting, picked up the frame and threw me, screaming, into the pool.
Water swept over my skin, familiar and welcoming. The sense of intrusion ebbed. I knew a moment's relief as the heavy frame sank to the bottom of the pool. Then it landed with a b
one-jarring crash, and the gathering power of the incantation pushed at me with renewed force. My urge to transform, to escape, was almost more than I could bear.
I could see the creature in my mind now, as painfully hideous as the idol in Vanir's altar, and this time there was no looking away. This horror wanted me, needed me. If it was to take form on our world, it needed a physical body. Mine would do. A shapeshifter of any sort would serve just as well. Once the transformation was complete, there would be nothing left of the host. Not my body, nor my soul. This I knew, with a certainly that passed anything I had ever known before.
It had never occurred to me that I might meet a watery end. But I could die in this pool. If I could endure the pain, if I could let myself drown, would that cut the thread binding me to the Dark Tapestry? Would my death deny the Night Heralds their god?
The transformation must take place.
Lapis's words echoed through my mind, my last thought before the druid-change took me.
My limbs disappeared, my bones melted into something more flexible and fluid. It was easy, so easy, for my eel form to slip free of my bonds.
Dark power merged with the magic of my transformation, warped my druid-change to its own purposes. Tentacles burst from my sleek, scaled body, and my eel flesh split to reveal new fanged mouths. Eyes blinked open here and there, forcing me to watch, to see what I was becoming.
I suppose there was pain. Whatever my body endured was nothing compared to the darkness singing its way through the pathways of my mind. Every impulse shrieked at me to push the creature from me before it was too late.
Too late would be fatal for us all.
My eel form was nearly unrecognizable now. I forced myself to reclaim my half-elf body—
For one brief moment, I was Channa Ti. But the horror Vanir had called Tychilarius struck back with the force of a khamsin sandstorm. All of those tentacles and mouths and eyes tore free of my body in one sudden, agonizing burst.
All my life, I have shared mind and body with dangerous predators. I have walked the fine line between taking command of another form and losing myself to another creature. That line was swiftly approaching, but I was not quite there.
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