All of this was for the glory of the New Gods, of course. The Highseekers Council be damned, Hederick thought, momentarily considering the Seekers council in Haven that, theoretically at least, ran the holy order. I have more wisdom and holiness than that whole lot combined, he thought.
Now the people had returned to the benches and were watching the High Theocrat intently. They knew what came next: the revelations. The priests doubled the incense and began to drone.
As always, Hederick's first words were barely above a murmur, a private conversation between supplicant and gods. "Omalthea, be with us, who adore you," Hederick whispered. "Likewise Sauvay. Bring with you the Greater and Lesser Pantheons. May all New Gods know that I, Hederick, am here to serve as your dutiful voice. Devoted am I to you, to the order, and to your work in this world. I join my will to yours, O New Gods, secure in the knowledge that you will never betray us as the Old Gods did."
His voice grew in strength as he repeated the invocation. His eyes closed. The divine ones approved of him. He, Hederick, was their chosen vessel on Krynn. All eyes were upon him.
Hederick infused his voice with throbbing passion. "Omalthea of the Greater Pantheon and mother of us all,
be with us, these who adore and exalt you."
"So be it," Dahos replied.
"Likewise Sauvay, Fatherlord of the Lesser Pantheon. Bring with you tonight your hierarchy."
"So be it." Dahos's voice gained power.
Hederick felt the strength of the New Gods surge through him. His head began to drum. Exultation rose, and his voice thundered. "May all New Gods know that I, Hederick, High Theocrat of Solace, builder and leader of Erolydon, am here to serve as your voice on Krynn."
"So be it."
"Devoted am I-to you, to the order, and to your sacred work on this world."
"So be it."
"I give up my will to further yours, O New Gods," Hederick intoned. "I, and all those in this temple blessed by you, stand secure in the knowledge that the New Gods will never betray us."
"So be it."
"The New Gods plan no Cataclysm, no vile abandonment of their children on Krynn!" the High Theocrat shouted. "They are true parents! We, your Seekers, are secure in you, our gods!"
"So be it!"
Hederick opened his eyes slightly, peering around the Great Chamber. Several novitiates were rolling on the floor and crying out. Others had begun to dance cautiously in the crowded aisles, arms above their heads. The novitiates were singing an old Seeker hymn:
"We are the Seekers.
We seek the New Gods.
We give our souls to the true gods,
Who will not abandon us."
One priest pounded a large wooden drum trimmed with steel and silver. Hederick's heart seemed to beat in time with the pounding. He felt young and powerful, tall
and vital as a vallenwood. The priests joined in. The Great Chamber rang with a chorus at least two centuries old:
"Centuris shirak nex des.
Centuris shirak nex des.
Centuris shirak nex des.
We seek the truth of the New Gods."
"I invoke you, Omalthea," Hederick shouted over the voices. "I invoke you, Sauvay, once her consort!"
"Centuris shirak nex des."
"I call to your daughter, Ferae, issue of Omalthea and Sauvay!"
The converts had joined in. Some of the newcomers couldn't keep from sobbing, Hederick noted through slit-ted eyelids.
"Centuris shirak nex des."
"I cry out to you, Cadithal, consort of Ferae! Share your gifts. Offer us wealth!"
"Centuris shirak nex des."
"Come to us, Zeshun, queen of the night!"
"We seek the truth of the New Gods."
"Be with us now, New Gods, true gods! Speak to the faithful! I, Hederick, High Theocrat of Solace, await your healing wisdom!"
The crowd sang the hymn again and again. Finally the room was still, its occupants waiting in an expectant, breathless hush. Hederick pressed his hand to his chest until the diamond figure cut into his flesh. Be with me now, Sauvay, he prayed.
Hederick took his time. He stared pointedly at one convert after another, holding each one's gaze until he felt the person grow frightened, then he frowned and moving on to the next victim. When the tension was at the breaking point, the New Gods would speak through him. The revelations would commence. This had never failed.
Hederick beheld a young woman. She flushed deeply but dared not look away. He felt himself draw power from
her. Then suddenly Omalthea, not Sauvay, was upon him, the first of the divine visitors tonight, filling him with her strength. Hederick closed his eyes. He sensed, without seeing, the woman collapse against the young man at her side as the High Theocrat's eyelids fluttered shut.
"Omalthea, arbiter of all virtue, is with us." To begin with the Motherlord of the Pantheons-what promise that held for the night! Hederick rocked back on his heels, smiling up at the ceiling. An auspicious beginning. Then he frowned again. "Omalthea is displeased. For some of you talk of virtue-but talk more than you care to practice."
Hederick suddenly looked again at the young woman. She was pretty, with a face and form that surely attracted the attentions of many men. Now her face was colorless, lips parted. Seeing Hederick's gaze, her husband looked at her with horror.
"Some of you sin greatly… and regularly… and happily," Hederick intoned. "To sin against virtue is to blaspheme Omalthea herself. Truly the Motherlord is angered."
Hederick touched his chin: the signal. Dahos, out of sight, touched a flame to a hair-thin line of string. The flame coursed on its track beneath the aisle stairs, turned at the highest step, and shot toward the statue of Omalthea that graced the top of the amphitheater. "Omalthea, be with us!"
At that instant, an explosion rocked the room. Red smoke billowed from the base of Omalthea's statue. Smelling of burned metal, the cloud spread over the room.
The young woman gave a cry and fainted. Her husband let her slip unchecked to the marble floor.
Smoke and noise did wonders for increasing people's faith, Hederick thought. It was all perfectly acceptable in the service of the New Gods. The people demanded the spectacular.
The explosion over, he let his gaze rove toward a man in the first row whose face wore a decidedly self-satisfied expression. The man, probably a merchant, wore silk hose, billowing silk shirt, and a fine leather doublet tooled with griffins; the splendor of his outfit matched the arrogance of his expression. Hederick pressed the dragon to his breast and waited for another spirit to inspire him- Cadithal's, this time.
"Cadithal, God of Wealth, is with us. He is pleased at our generosity this evening." Hederick's voice was practically a whisper, yet the room was so still that every word was audible, even to the last row, he knew. The smug-looking man was smiling and nodding, chin outthrust. "And yet…" Hederick drew out the words as he stared at the sinner. The man's smile faded.
"And yet… Cadithal, consort of Ferae, Goddess of Growing Things, is unhappy tonight. For there are some here…" Hederick let the suggestion trail off meaningfully. He stood in the gods' stead now; he was imposing and terrifying-and godlike. "There are some tonight who remain miserly, who think the New Gods can be fooled by a 'considerable' gift measured in mere steel coins, but a gift that in reality amounts to a pittance of what ought to be contributed."
The well-dressed man whom Hederick had targeted slouched as if trying to make himself smaller. "What a cruel, cruel joke to play upon the gods-and upon one's own soul," Hederick said softly, "and upon the souls of one's family."
Suddenly the man was back before the pair of priests at the side table, speaking urgently and emptying his pockets. Hederick looked around, even more pleased than before. Which god would guide him next? Which onlooker would he draw power from? Then he spied her. Ancilla's Presence occupied an aisle seat in the top row.
No one but Hederick appeared aware of her. The High Theocrat lost confidence
momentarily, and the Diamond Dragon slipped from his grasp. He heard the artifact clang to the floor.
The lizard-woman in the Great Chamber sat up immediately, eyes wide. In an instant, she vanished from the bench and reappeared on the pulpit next to Hederick, apparently visible only to him. She reached for the glittering artifact.
And her clawed hand went right through it.
Ancilla tried again, with the same result. For a moment, sister and brother locked gazes. Hers brimmed with frustration, his with drunken joy.
Then the High Theocrat reached out to reclaim the Diamond Dragon. Unfortunately, the mead made his brain swim, and he inadvertently knocked the artifact down the stairs.
Hederick took a step toward the staircase. But at the moment his outstretched hand brushed against the mist of a scaly body, panic assailed him.
The Presence was chanting softly.
Despite the terror, Hederick fought to get control of himself. "Sauvay, come to me," he pleaded softly. Sauvay, once Omalthea's consort, now god of vengeance, surely would dash this lizard-woman to bits on the floor of the chamber. "Sauvay, attend me."
Hederick forced his thoughts away from Ancilla's Presence. "Sauvay, stand with me!" he cried. He prayed desperately. His mind's eye still saw the green orbs of the Presence. The red smoke had dissipated, but the metallic odor remained. The thing chanted monotonously.
Then, at last, Hederick felt the reassuring touch of the gods. Sauvay had arrived at Hederick's behest and now demanded his turn to speak. It must be Sauvay. The High Theocrat forced himself to stop thinking about Ancilla. The revelation was everything now. Ancilla could not harm him during the revelation.
"I dreamed last night," Hederick whispered. Each word fell shimmering into the amphitheater like a glass bead dropping into a lake.
But something was wrong.
Always before, Hederick had known that deep down, on some level, he controlled his words-even though the gods provided guidance from some distance. But this time he lost control. He stood atop his vaulted pulpit like a gasping carp, words erupting out of the depths of his belly. Was this, then, what a true revelation felt like? Vfere the New Gods physically directing him?
"I had a dream last night," he blurted. "I dreamed I was in my parents' house in Garlund." He'd never-never- revealed his roots. Garlund didn't even exist anymore.
"I was in the root cellar. It was damp. We lived near the river, and the cellar was always damp." Someone giggled; Hederick looked around the room, mouth agape. He could almost hear the priests wondering aloud. The High Theocrat in a root cellar? And where was this Garlund?
Indeed, Hederick had had such a dream, between the executions of Mendis Vakon and Crealora Senternal. But what purpose could the New Gods have in exposing him to ridicule like this?
The High Theocrat prayed to Sauvay, but no relief came. Just the voice, so much like Hederick's own, spilling forth, babbling.
"I was alone in the cellar," the voice boomed. "It was dark, but I could see a crack of light. There was a door somewhere. There'd always been a door, but now I couldn't find it. They'd moved it! Venessi and Con, my parents, had hidden the door. On the opposite side of the cellar, they'd opened a crack to provide air."
People in the audience glanced at each other nervously, but no one said anything. Several priests looked curious, but none dared interrupt the High Theocrat during a holy revelation. That would be tantamount to challenging the gods themselves. Dahos was standing at the bottom of the pulpit steps, his face pale and worried, duties obviously forgotten.
Hederick's voice rose suddenly to a piercing shriek. "Don't you see people? Are you blind-or merely stupid? They'd locked me in! I could hear them piling dirt where the door had been. Con and Venessi, my own parents! I heard them pounding nails into the doorjamb, sealing the basement shut! And I was sealed inside1."
The words came in spurts now, like vomited blood. "And then I saw… another light… a wider crack… as wide as my hand… And I knew… that if I were careful… and held my breath… I could turn sideways… and escape through the crack. I could become that thin, as thin as that crack. I could! I moved… toward the light… in my dream I turned sideways…"
Sweat poured down Hederick's forehead. A breeze from the open doors caressed his damp hair, and he shivered. His tongue was dry; his throat hurt. He yearned to swallow.
The blessed mead. If only the High Theocrat could reach it, wet his mouth, soothe his throat. His hands groped for his goblet.
The voice, this visitation from Ancilla's Presence, had to be quelled. Hederick tried to speak, but only dry whimpers emerged. Then the voice returned in full force.
"I turned to slide through the crack… I was going to escape… and then I saw them. Dozens of them-no, hundreds! Hundreds of spiders! Black and evil. Insatiable."
Hederick could see that the earlier mood of holiness had left the people. No longer were they converts awaiting the truths of the Seekers, but children listening to a good bedtime story. Novitiates, who had sunk to their knees on marble stairs, were also listening raptly. Brown-robed priests in various stages of shock stood around motionless.
The voice spoke again, hurriedly, breathlessly. "And then… and then I remembered something… I cried out to my father. 'Con!' I screamed. 'Feed the spiders! Feed the spiders!' I moved toward the voracious insects, drawn as if by a web. I couldn't stop; I drew closer. The spiders reared back to receive me, to devour me… and Con didn't hear me! My own father didn't hear me! Don't you see? Don't any of you idiots understand?"
Hederick's right hand, unseen under the lectern, touched the mead goblet. He tried to force his rigid fingers to grasp the stem. The High Theocrat looked wildly around the room. Why did none of his priests step in? And why wouldn't his fingers do his bidding, by the accursed Pantheons?
He felt the goblet tip, heard it break. The pitcher from which he'd filled the goblet was under the altar, behind him. Hederick made himself turn and stretch toward it. His left hand found the mead pitcher and hefted it. It was empty.
Still the voice continued. Even with his back turned, the false voice sounded as clear as the evening gong that called believers to revelations. Ancilla's Presence, only an arm's length away, cocked its ghostly head to one side.
"Don't you see?" Hederick shouted. "It was his duty to feed the spiders-Con's duty, my father's! Don't you see?" The voice rose to a wail. "If he didn't feed them, the spiders would find food somewhere else. And the only thing down there to eat… was me!"
A scream rocked the Great Chamber. To the onlookers, it seemed as though the sound came from Hederick, but the High Theocrat knew it had burst forth from the Presence.
As suddenly as the spell had taken Hederick, it left. He slumped over the altar, ill with vertigo, nearly retching. The sounds of the rabble soared around him.
"Did you hear?" "What was that all about?" "That's not like the other revelations." "What does it mean?" "Is the Theocrat growing senile?" "Perhaps he's a prophet." "Do the gods really speak through Hederick?" "What do we do now?" "Is it over?" "Can we leave?" Babies cried. A few older children whined. Hederick forced himself upright. Instead of the Presence, Dahos stood at the top of the stairs. The Plainsman held out a clean cloth in one hand and a spare chalice filled with mead in the other.
The crowd stilled amid a chorus of "Hush!" and "There's more!"
Hederick took the tiny goblet, dragged himself to the pulpit, tried to speak, and broke into a paroxysm of coughing. He rolled the blessed beverage around his mouth, but it was as though his tongue itself absorbed the liquid. There was little left to swallow.
"Tonight…" Hederick, relieved to hear his own voice again, coughed and tried to speak. "Tonight…"
Dahos was at his side once more, holding out a small object. The Diamond Dragon! Hederick snatched the artifact. "Tonight, we have been in the presence of something…" How to describe it? If he said it were evil, would that suggest that Solace's own High Theocrat was vulnerable to diabolical fo
rces? "… in the presence of something stronger than us, something holy. It is yet to be explained, but rest assured that the answer will come. The New Gods will explain all in the end."
The High Theocrat paused to gather his strength and look around the Great Chamber. Ancilla the lizard-woman was gone.
The crowd remained. All those staring eyes-wanting something, demanding something. Why was it always Hederick's lot to provide? His mind was as empty as a wind-scoured desert.
He clutched the Diamond Dragon to his chest. "So be it," he rasped out. "Tonight's revelation is over."
Hederick, High Theocrat of Solace, bolted past Dahos, down the steps and out the double doors.
Marya put down the quill and rubbed her eyes. Olven stood in the shadows next to the door of the Great Library, waiting to take his turn at the desk. He was unsure whether Marya had heard him enter, she was so still.
At this hour of the night, only a few scribes, all of them apprentices, remained in the Palanthas library. Those few sat as silently as Marya did, on stools and chairs before desks that held numerous quills and pieces of parchment. Each desk was illuminated by a single candle, which cast a small circle of yellow light. The rest of the library was pitch-black. At night in the Great Library of Palanthas, there was no gray-only light and dark. Astinus was in his private study down the hall, not to be disturbed.
"Isn't there something we can do?" Marya finally asked, not seeming to expect an answer.
So she was aware of him. Olven had not read the latest passage, the one that Marya had recorded. But he remembered his own feelings of helplessness after inscribing his most recent segment ofHederick's current schemes.
"We are doing something, Marya," he said, affecting a confidence he certainly didn't feel. "We're recording the actions of a madman. The world will judge him, even if we can't. Remember our oath of neutrality."
"Yet you've read Eban's work on Hederick's a. aood," Marya returned. "Hederick wasn't always evil. Look at the things that happened to him when he was still an innocent child. He was just… adapting."
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