He straightened his robes one final time, checked his weapons, and strode toward the gap in the hedges twenty paces to the north. No one paid him any heed as he rejoined the chaotic mass of priests filling the open space. Indeed, it seemed he—or the man whose face he wore—counted among the lowest-ranking clergypeople here. He recognized the costly robes of High Lecterns, Grand Reckoners, Exalted Militants, and high priests of every other clerical order.
His gut tightened as he passed the gaggle of Illusionist Clerics. One of them actually turned toward him with a curious expression, but he simply nodded and kept moving. After a moment of contemplation, the priest lost interest and resumed his insane babbling.
The Hunter forced himself to walk like he imagined the priest would. Instead of a confident stride, he gave his steps a bit of a rolling waddle, like a man weighed down by too much body fat. It felt odd to walk like this, but he actually found it enjoyable. Far too much time had passed since he’d last adopted a disguise so thoroughly. A part of him missed the days of masquerading as Gladrin Silvertongue, Lord Anglion of Praamis, and Danther the tailor.
He pushed aside the memories and quickened his waddling steps toward the entrance to the Master's Temple, just ten paces away. The entrance opened into a high-ceilinged tunnel that matched the elegance of the decorative exterior. Plush Al Hani rugs in myriad bright colors and patterns covered the floors, and ornately woven tapestries hung from the walls.
"Brother Makrel!" a voice rang out behind him. He kept walking, but the call came again. "Brother Makrel!"
The Hunter glanced over his shoulder and found a young man wearing the robes of a Lectern apprentice hurrying up the tunnel toward him. The priest's eyes fixed on him, his hand outstretched to stop him.
"Yes?" the Hunter asked. He spoke in a nasal voice and added a tone of mixed hauteur and impatience.
"Forgive me, Reckoner, but your rooms are not yet prepared." The young Lectern looked embarrassed, and his face flushed. "If you would just—"
"Young man, what is your name?" the Hunter demanded.
The youth's blush deepened. "Sisket," he said in a quiet voice. "Under-Lectern in the Grey Tower."
"Under-Lectern Sisket, do you have any idea how many hours I've spent sitting a saddle over the last month?" The Hunter's double chins wobbled as he shook his head. "I have not come this far to simply stand around like a common man waiting for your High Lectern to complete arrangements that should have been made days ago." He loomed over the young man. "If there are no objections, I will content myself with exploring the grand chapel until such a time as my quarters are prepared."
"O-Of course, Brother Makrel," Sisket stammered.
"Thank you," the Hunter snapped. "We shall see if your grand chapel truly is as spectacular as the rumors say." He turned on his heel and strode away before the youth could respond.
Over the course of his journey, the Hunter had heard tales of the enormous stained glass windows in the Master's Temple. The priest whose face he wore, Reckoner Makrel, might not have the authority to enter the Vault of Stars, so using the story of wanting to visit the breathtaking spectacle made as good a cover story as anything.
The marble-walled, carpeted tunnel continued for another twenty paces before opening onto a huge basilica. Daylight streamed in through the enormous dome in the ceiling of the central nave, and broad aisles flanked by interior colonnades ran the length of the grand chamber. On a raised dais in the heart of the expansive interior, a white marble statue of Kiro, the Master, held court over smaller statues of the other twelve gods of Einan.
But the Hunter’s steps led away from the main basilica chamber. To the right, behind a thick marble colonnade, he saw the small staircase Evren had indicated. Instead of heading up toward the grand chapel, he descended into the bowels of the temple. His heart raced as his mind replayed memories of the last time he'd done something like this. He'd gone in search of Soulhunger, locked in the Beggar Priests' vaults, and barely gotten out of there alive.
Let's just hope things work out a bit better this time.
He descended three floors, finding only empty hallways. No doubt most of the Lecterns were busy either in study or consumed by the duties of greeting the arriving priests. The Hunter welcomed the confusion, as it had given him a way in. Now he had to find a way to gain access to the Vault of Stars.
Instead of going farther down, he exited on the third floor and strode through the silent halls. He chose a door at random and opened it, finding a small, simply furnished chamber. The room had only a single bed, a table and chair, and a wooden cupboard against the far wall. The Hunter grinned as he saw the green-and-silver velvet Lectern robes folded in a neat pile at the foot of the bed.
Moments later, he emerged from the room in the disguise of a priest. He no longer needed the face of the heavy-set Reckoner Makrel, but instead settled for his own face with a few minor alterations: a thicker brow, longer nose, and a rounded chin. And, of course, eyes of a deep brown instead of their true midnight black
He had just resumed his descent into the bowels of the temple when he met two priests climbing the stairs toward him. His shoulders tightened in nervous anticipation, and he reached inside his Lectern's robes for the hilt of a dagger. He had no desire to kill them, but he wouldn’t give them a chance to raise an alarm. His mission here was too important.
The first priest, an older man with greying hair shaved in the Lectern's tonsure and fringe, barely gave him a nod as he passed. The second priest, a younger man in the garb of an apprentice, was too busy balancing a massive pile of books to pay attention to the Hunter.
The Hunter let out a long breath as the priests disappeared above him. Good to know the disguise works.
The staircase ended three floors farther down, where it turned into a short hallway that ran for five paces before opening into a small, bare room. No tapestries hung on the unadorned wood-paneled walls, and the marble floor was scuffed from heavy traffic. Yet there was no furniture, no doors in or out, nothing at all to indicate the chamber’s purpose.
The Hunter narrowed his eyes. Had Evren steered him in the wrong direction? The youth had known a lot more about the Master's Temple than a common thief ought to, so he'd assumed the young man was right. But had he sent him off on a wild hunt? Worse, had Evren led him into a trap? He had only one way of escape, and there could be scores of armed Wardens waiting for him above.
The Hunter started as an entire section of the wood-paneled wall slid aside to reveal the head, chest, and shoulders of a man standing behind a marble counter. Through the opening, the Hunter could see a small room, and beyond it a massive, high-vaulted stone chamber that could only be the Vault of Stars.
"How may I help you, Brother?" the man asked. He wore Lectern's robes, which hung slack from his hunched shoulders. His pale skin and squinting eyes gave him the look of someone that spent far too much time indoors. He adjusted his spectacles and stared at the Hunter in expectation.
After a moment of hesitation, the Hunter strode toward the man. "I'm here on the Arch-Lectern's business."
The man's white-blonde eyebrows pressed together. "Which Arch-Lectern, precisely?"
The Hunter's gut clenched. "I, uh…"
"White Tower? Black Tower? Crystal Tower?"
"Grey Tower," the Hunter said as Under-Lectern Sisket's stammering flashed through his mind.
"Ahh, of course." The man folded his hands on the countertop and gave the Hunter an unctuous smile. "And how might I be of service of Arch-Lectern Uriman today?"
"I've come for a number of books," the Hunter said, trying to ignore the furious beating of his heart. "Special volumes only available here."
"Of course," the man repeated. "If you will simply give me the titles, I will be happy to hunt them down for you. And, of course, I will need to see the Arch-Lectern's written request for the volumes."
Shit. The Hunter thought quickly. He could try to bluff his way into the Vault of Stars, or take the more direct route.
One look at the Lectern told him what manner of man he was dealing with: a functionary who would adhere to the rules without any deviation. There was only one way to cut through this bureaucracy.
The Hunter crossed the space to the counter in a single leap and seized the man's collar. Before the Lectern could let out more than a surprised squawk, the Hunter pressed a dagger to his throat.
"You have a choice," he growled. "Let me in or die."
Chapter Nine
The Lectern's pale face went a ghostly shade of white, and his eyes flew wide. Fear tainted his scent of parchment, ink, and centuries-old dust. He seemed frozen by shock and surprise, as if his brain couldn't comprehend how someone had gotten this far into the Master's Temple, past all the guards and priests.
The Hunter shook the priest’s collar to snap him out of his dumbfounded stupor. "This can go one of two ways," the Hunter growled. "You let me in and tell me what I want to know, and you live to read another day." He pulled the man close and dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. "Fuck with me or try to raise an alarm, and your fellow Lecterns will find your corpse lying in a pool of blood."
The Lectern gasped, and his face managed to somehow go even whiter. Words poured from his mouth in an unintelligible jumble.
The Hunter pricked the underside of his chin with the dagger, and the pain seemed to clear the priest's chaotic thoughts. He snapped his mouth shut and swallowed hard.
"Resist the urge to set off any alarms you have hidden around the Vault, Lectern." The Hunter fixed the man with a stern gaze. "I've no need to hurt you, but I won't hesitate to remove a hand or something else important if you do anything foolish. Is that clear?"
"A-Abundantly," the Lectern managed to stammer.
"Excellent." The Hunter gave him a harsh smile. "Why don't we start with something easy? Open the door."
Fear filled the Lectern's eyes. "I…er…"
"The next word out of your mouth had better not be either can't or won't," the Hunter snarled.
The priest swallowed. "I…er…am unable to?" He cringed and stammered out the words as fast as he could. "The vault door only opens twice each day when the Lecterns on duty change shifts. I could not open it, even if I had the correct resonator stone."
The Hunter's brow furrowed. He had no idea what a resonator stone was, but it seemed it didn't matter anyway. There was only one way into the Vault of Stars.
He moved too fast for the priest to react, pressing the man's arm against the wooden countertop and slamming the dagger into his robes. The Lectern squawked and let out a fearful cry, but the blade only pinned the sleeve of his long frock in place.
"Take that as a warning," the Hunter said in a low growl. "Next one hits something painful, then something vital, then something fatal."
The man gave a frantic nod of his head. "Understood!" he gasped.
"Good. Now move to the side."
The Hunter gave the man a helping hand, shoving him to the left of the counter. He reached up, gripped the inner edge of the paneled wall, and swung his legs over the counter and through the opening. With a quick whipping motion of his upper body, he lowered his head and threw himself into a forward leap. His shoulders barely fit through the window and his forehead missed the upper lip by a finger's breadth, but he landed on his feet inside the room beside the priest.
All this happened so fast the Lectern barely had time to react. His eyes went wide as the Hunter ripped the dagger free of the wooden countertop and waved it beneath his nose.
"Please, sir!" The priest’s voice held a note of abject terror. "I have a family, two sons who—"
"Shut up, Priest," the Hunter snapped. "So long as you cooperate, you'll walk out of here alive."
"Of course, of course," the man gibbered. "Just tell me what you want and I will be happy to provide it."
The Hunter hid a grin. Lecterns were men of learning, not warriors like the Swordsman Adepts or the Warrior Priests of Derelana. They relied on the sanctity of their temple and the men guarding their entrances to keep them safe. The concept of personal danger had to be very alien to this man. Of course he'd be pissing his breeches in fear for his life. The closest he'd come to real combat had to be wielding a letter opener to avoid paper cuts.
The Hunter fixed him with a stern glare. "I have come for a book."
"A book?" The Lectern's eyebrows shot up, but the tension drained from his shoulders. "Is that all? You could have simply gone to the Royal Library and--"
"I tried, but they didn't have it."
"So it's a rare volume, is it?" The Lectern's lips pressed together. "Something too esoteric to be found on their shelves?"
"Correct." The Hunter hesitated for a moment before speaking. "It's one of the works of Karannos Taivoro."
The Lectern's jaw dropped. "T-Tai…?" He blinked in surprise, and his nose wrinkled up. "Y-You've come here…broken into the Master's Temple and threatened a priest…for a Taivoro?"
By the look in the priest’s eyes, the Hunter knew exactly what went through his head. Everyone on Einan linked the name Taivoro to the mad playwright’s erotic fiction and ribald tales of seduction, intrigue, and pleasure. Few knew the truth: the man known as Karannos Taivoro had founded the Illusionist Cleric priesthood.
The Hunter clenched his jaw. "A very specific Taivoro, one about a journeyman bard."
"Ah, of course." The man nodded, though his face was still wrinkled in confusion. "You'll want The Singer and His Muse."
That was the same name the scribe in the Royal Library had mentioned.
"Do you have it?" the Hunter demanded.
"Of course we do." The priest seemed almost offended by the question. "The Vault of Stars is home to the oldest works on Einan, with texts dating as far back as—"
"Wonderful." The Hunter made no attempt to hide his sarcasm. "Take me to it."
The Lectern stared at him, curiosity burning in his eyes. "Th-That way," he said and pointed behind the Hunter.
The Hunter stepped aside and motioned for him to lead the way. He walked a single step behind and to the left of the Lectern, his dagger hovering threateningly just within the priest's eyesight.
The Vault of Stars far surpassed anything the Hunter had imagined. The vault of the Cambionari in Malandria had stretched a hundred paces wide and two hundred long, with a ceiling nearly twenty paces above his head. The high-ceilinged stone cavern before him seemed to continue on forever. He could not see where the walls ended to his right or left, and row after row of shelves stretched into what looked like infinity. A spiral staircase descended deeper into the earth for more floors than he could count at a glance. If each level of the Vault of Stars matched the breadth and width of this, the uppermost level, it truly could be endless.
The stone ceiling towered too high for the light of the alchemical lamps to illuminate. Thousands of precise rows of shelves filled the Vault of Stars, each burdened by wooden boxes and crates, small barrels, padlocked chests bearing cabalistic symbols, glass jars filled with all manner of creatures hideous and beautiful alike, and a hundred thousand other oddities.
Then there were books. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions of volumes bound in leather, ancient tomes with cracked spines and yellowing pages, ribbon-bound sheaves of parchment, and tightly rolled scrolls sitting in neat order on the shelves. Clay tablets sat beside wood-bound wax diptychs, while the brass shelves groaned beneath the weight of carved runestones. Staring at it all, the Hunter found it plausible that every written work in history truly could be stored here.
The smell of dust hung thick in the vault, underscored by the scent of aging books, the metal and wood of the shelving, and the terror-laced stink of the Lectern in his grasp. The sound of the priest’s ragged breathing seemed to echo off the high ceilings in time with the clack of their shoes on the grey stone floor.
The Lectern wended through the rows of shelving until they reached one of the spiral staircases. The Hunter kept a tight grip on the man’s collar, though he no lon
ger waved the dagger around. The priest clearly understood the gravity of his situation, and though he cringed in fear, he seemed to have accepted it.
They descended two floors before the Lectern exited the staircase. The moment they stepped onto the landing, the Hunter's eyes went wide as he caught sight of the bas-relief etched into the stone wall facing the staircase.
A figure lay atop a stone altar, held in place by strong bonds, arms folded over his chest. Eleven radiant figures surrounded it, reaching out their arms to send threads of power into the man atop the altar. It was identical to the carving he had seen in Kara-ket.
He grabbed the priest's collar. "What is this image?" he asked, thrusting the dagger at the bas-relief.
"A-A depiction of the entombment of K-Kharna by the eleven gods after the Swordsman's fall," the man stammered out.
The Hunter studied the image. It matched the one he'd seen in Kara-ket, from the minute details of the eleven gods’ faces to the threads of power streaming from their hands. He got that same feeling of dire urgency from the image and it filled him with dread. Kharna’s face even bore the same serenity, his posture echoing peaceful repose rather than eternal damnation. The bas-relief even bore the ragged crack in the wall in the lower left corner.
"What happened here?" He tapped the black fissure.
"Nothing." The priest gave him a curious look. "It is a part of the original image."
The Hunter stared at it. The jagged line carved across an entire corner of the bas-relief, cutting through the landscape depicted there. Something about the blackness sent an unexplained shiver down his spine.
"What does it mean?" he asked. "Does it have something to do with the destruction of the world wrought by the War of Gods?"
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