Mistress of the Night

by Don Bassingthwaite

  “Variance!” she roared again. “Come out!”

  Behind her, Julith raced to keep up. Feena moved just slowly enough to allow her the chance to keep pace. Prayers of moonlight overhead cast bright, colorless pools down onto the streets and alleys around the temple walls—but in the shadows between buildings, darkness lay deep. Feena stopped and spun around, her arms raised.

  “Variance, come out! I know you’re here!”

  A sudden whiff of shadowstuff, much like the mastiffs, caught her nose. She whirled.

  Shadows parted down a side street and a tall Calishite woman stepped into a patch of moonlight. Dusky pale skin, plain black clothes, long dark hair … the only color about Variance was the purple wink of the amethyst ring on one finger.

  Though she held the sharp steel ring of a chakram in her right hand casually, her eyes were intense.

  “Your continued interference is unexpected and unwelcome.”

  “So was your attempt to turn Yhaunn against me by sending a shadow mastiff to mutilate Cyrume’s body.”

  Variance’s eyebrows rose slightly and she said, “You guessed.”

  “With Keph’s help.” Feena jerked her head at Julith and the younger priestess nodded. She slipped down the side street, keeping wide around to one side of Variance. Feena began to circle the other way. “Where is Keph? What have you done with him?”

  “He’s performing a special service for Shar.”

  “You lie,” Feena growled. “You kidnapped him. He wouldn’t help you or Shar.”

  Variance’s gaze flickered to Julith, then settled back on Feena. “You’ve broken my enchantment as well, then. You are extraordinary. You speak as a beast. And I saw you fight the shadow mastiffs—your form flows like water. Selûne’s touch is strong upon you.” Her eyes narrowed. “New Moon?” she asked.

  Feena caught her breath and growled, “How do you know about the New Moon Pact?”

  Variance laughed and said, “Shar’s archives hold many secrets—especially the lore of her enemies. And the New Moon Pact is an old enemy to the Mistress of the Night. It was old when Netheril fell.” Feena caught the subtle movement as she tensed. “Your defeat will be a pleasure.”

  “You’re already defeated, Variance,” called Julith. “Your cultists are captured. Your beasts are gone.”

  “Girl,” Variance hissed without turning around, “do you expect me to surrender to you? To seek absolution from your cold goddess? Or perhaps you think I’ll flee and you can avoid a fight.” She caught Feena’s gaze. “Do you want that, Feena?”

  Feena’s hands tightened on the metal shaft of the mace.

  Variance smiled and said, “I didn’t think so.”

  She spun to spit a single, bleak word at Julith. The young priestess screamed and staggered back, her eyes wide.

  “Feena! I can’t see!”

  Even as Julith screamed, Variance was twisting back to Feena. Her arm flicked sharply and her chakram sliced through the air.

  Feena snapped up the mace and swung hard. It connected with the chakram, sending it ricocheting away. Letting loose a howl, Feena charged at Variance. Shar’s priestess just reached up to snatch the chakram out of the air as it hissed by, then stepped back into the shadows.

  When Feena’s mace thundered through the darkness, there was nothing there. The weapon swept empty air. Variance was gone.

  No, Feena knew. Not gone. Her words had been cold. She wanted a fight. At the very least, she had no intention of leaving. Feena spun around.

  “Julith!” she ordered. “Stay still and keep low!”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Julith grope for the nearest wall then sink down, her shield pulled up high for protection. Feena turned and turned again—then spun around as prayer welled out of another shadow.

  Variance’s hand stiffened and thrust toward her. Darkness lanced from her fingertips. Feena howled as the black bolt pierced her flesh like despair given form. She staggered under the foul magic, but forced herself to her feet and charged again.

  Variance unleashed a second bolt, then flung her chakram as well. Feena flung herself into a long roll across the ground. Both magic and steel passed above her and she rolled back to her knees before Variance, swinging the mace in a flawless, powerful continuation of motion.

  The dark priestess stepped back into the shadows less than a heartbeat before the mace would have hammered into her. Feena’s mighty swing carried her around and left her sprawling. Variance’s chakram hit the wall above her and fell to the ground with a ringing clatter. Feena rolled away from it and flipped herself back up onto her feet, mace ready again.

  “Stand and fight!” Feena screamed.

  “No.”

  Movement in a shadow.… Feena spun, and another black bolt of despair caught her full in the chest. The pain seemed even worse, stealing her breath and leaving her doubled over.

  Soft footsteps fell on the stones of the street. Feena forced herself upright as Variance stepped out into the light once more. Feena raised her mace and met the Sharran’s dark gaze. Slowly, silently, they moved against each other, keeping their distance.

  Halfway between them, Julith shuddered in the silence.

  “Feena, what’s going on?” she gasped.

  Variance’s gaze flickered toward her.

  “No!” growled Feena.

  Variance just smiled and took another step—into a patch of shadow.

  The darkness swallowed her.

  “No!” Feena howled and spun around. “Moonmaiden guide me, where is—”

  A whiff of shadowstuff. Feena whirled, and hurled her mace into shadows not three paces from Julith.

  It slammed into Variance’s shoulder. She grunted and stumbled, twisted around by the impact. Feena growled and rushed at her, powerful legs pumping then kicking her into a leap. She hit Variance in a hard tackle that sent them both tumbling along the street. Feena snapped and tore at the dark priestess, but Variance was unexpectedly strong. She caught Feena’s clawed hands in her own and forced them back. Her legs came up, threatening a double kick. Feena thrust herself back.

  Variance stayed close. The black and purple disk of the Mistress of the Night was clenched in one hand and she shouted a prayer as her other hand darted out to touch Feena.

  “Shar take you!”

  Darkness closed on Feena’s heart like the fist of doom. She couldn’t breathe. No, she wasn’t breathing. Agony tore through her, cold so bitter it burned. Shar’s magic was killing her, dragging her from life into death—

  Feena forced a snarl through clenched teeth. “For Selûne’s sake, I have held death itself at bay.” Her eyes snapped open to stare at Variance. “For Selûne’s sake, I deny death!”

  The dark prayer shattered, leaving both priestesses reeling, Variance with an expression of shock on her pale face, Feena trembling with the memory of pain. Gasping and panting, they faced each other. Feena’s claws spread wide. Variance’s fists clenched tight.

  “Stop!”

  Variance froze, then turned and looked up. Feena turned as well. Higher up on the slope of the street, stood Keph Thingoleir. The young man’s face was flushed and his clothes and hair were drenched in sweat. His entire body trembled, but he held his arms high above his head.

  Clutched in his hands and seeming to shimmer as moonlight fell upon it was a strange black book. Keph took a slow step forward, passing out of moonlight and into shadow and the book seemed to change, silver sparks of writing emerging upon it.

  The very sight of that book set Feena’s teeth on edge. A tremor of unease writhed through her gut.

  “Keph …” she growled in a low voice.

  Variance stepped away from her and held out her hands.

  “Give it to me!” the Sharran ordered.

  Keph didn’t move.

  Variance’s face tensed and she shouted, “Give it to me!”

  “Feena,” Keph asked, his voice cracking, “is Moonshadow Hall safe?”

  Feena nodded, and
Keph lowered the book and looked at Variance.

  “Call off the creatures in the Stiltways,” he told her.

  “Rax leads them now.”

  “Then call off Rax! End this!”

  Variance’s eyes narrowed, but she raised her voice. “Rax!” she called into the night. “Rax, your task is done. Take your pack and return to Shadow.”

  The savage howls that had been echoing from the Stiltways vanished.

  Variance looked at Keph and said, “Now give me the tiles!”

  “No.” Keph’s flushed face was hard. “Now take off your ring.”

  Variance hissed.

  Behind Keph, shadows shifted.

  “Keph!” yelled Feena in warning as two more shadow mastiffs stepped out of the darkness.

  She started to leap forward, but Keph was already whirling himself. Grasping the book in his right hand he poked his left thumb out at the nearest mastiff and shouted … something. The words tore at Feena’s wolf ears and left them flat against her head. Even Variance gasped. The shadow mastiff howled in terror and seemed to bleed away into nothingness. Snapping his arm around, Keph pointed at the second beast, repeating the tearing words.

  It vanished as well, though its whine of fear lingered in the night. Keph looked back down at Variance.

  “Take off the ring!” he commanded. “Give it to Feena!”

  Eyes fixed on Keph, Variance brought her hands together and pulled the amethyst ring off her finger.

  Feena’s fur rose at the transformation that swept over the priestess. Fine, narrow Calishite features vanished, replaced by a broader, rounder face. Dusky pale skin turned dark … darker … black like night. Even Variance’s eyes turned black, becoming deep, colorless pits of shadow. Her hair and clothes didn’t shift, but when she spoke, her voice had a strange, ancient accent.

  “Take it, Selûnite,” she snarled. “Wear it if you dare.”

  Feena reached over and snatched the ring from her fingers, holding it gingerly. The smell of shadowstuff was very strong.

  “Now,” Keph said, “get out of Yhaunn.”

  Variance’s altered face twisted. “We had an agreement!” she said. “The tiles for your friend’s life. If you break that agreement, I swear that he will not be the only one to suffer!”

  “What good is fixing one mistake if I make another?” Keph replied. He paused for a moment then looked down at the book in his hands. “I hear whispers in the dark, Variance. Whispers from the slates. I don’t understand them, but I hear them.” He looked up and raised his thumb. Silver glimmered on the pad of it. “The whispers did this and you know what I can do with it.” His eyes hardened. “What would happen if I started repeating the whispers? Started speaking them out loud?”

  Feena’s heart went cold.

  Whispers in the dark … whispers that could be heard, but not understood. She’d heard those whispers. Dhauna Myritar had heard them as well.

  Selûne’s warning, the truth of it, the New Moon Heresy, the New Moon Pact—clues, tools, nothing more—stones on the path to that moment.

  Feena stepped forward numbly, letting her hybrid form fall away so that she stood in the form of a woman. She felt as if she were on the edge of a cliff that could crumble under her feet at any minute.

  “Keph,” she said, “don’t do it. Whatever you want, whatever you’re thinking, don’t speak the whispers.”

  Keph looked at her. His eyes were shot through with red. His face was tired.

  “Feena,” he said, “you don’t understand …”

  “Keph, you have to trust me,” Feena replied. “For your family’s sake, believe me. Some things should never be spoken. The whispers must not be spoken.”

  “She understands better than you do,” said Variance. The dark priestess took a slow step forward as well. “And she’s right. In Shar’s name, I swear it. Your friend will be safe. I will leave Yhaunn. Just give me the book and I will lock it away.”

  Keph’s face tightened and he asked, “What if I give it to Feena and she locks it away?”

  Variance stiffened. “Give it me. It’s no weapon.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Variance hesitated, then took another step forward as she said, “It—”

  Out of the corner of her eyes, Feena saw moonlight fade from the dark priestess’s face as she moved into a shadow. Her gut leaped.

  “Keph, look out!” she shouted.

  Too late. Shadows folded around Variance—and unfolded behind Keph. In less than a breath, Variance had stepped between shadows like a piece of living darkness. Her hands closed on the book and wrenched it out of Keph’s grasp.

  “—belongs to Shar!” she cried triumphantly, stepping back and clenching the book.

  Feena’s stomach twisted in rage.

  “Here’s something else that belongs to Shar, then!” she howled.

  Variance’s chakram lay only feet away. Lunging, Feena swept it up. Her form changed with her anger and the arm that hurled the disk was furred and knotted with muscle. Razor-sharp steel screamed through the air just as shadows wove around Variance.

  Shar’s priestess gasped, staggered—and vanished. The scream of steel ended abruptly in a ringing screech. The chakram quivered in the stone wall behind the spot Variance had stood.

  Keph stared in shock and asked, “Is she gone?”

  Feena stalked up to the chakram and wrenched it out of the stone. Blood was smeared across it, pasting strands of long, dark hair to the metal.

  “Yes,” she snarled. “This time, I think she is.”

  “And the book?” he asked. “What about the book?”

  Feena scanned the shadows. They were empty.

  CHAPTER 18

  Astounding,” Strasus Thingoleir said as he poked at the silver character branded onto Keph’s thumb. In the light of morning, it shone almost as bright as the reflections that flashed off the surface of Selûne’s sacred pool. “No pain?” Keph shook his head. Strasus poked at the character again. “A sign of abjuration, I’m certain of it. Wouldn’t you agree, High Moonmistress?”

  The old wizard looked up. Feena shot a glance to Julith—Variance’s spell of blindness had been broken by Selûne’s power—over Strasus’s and Keph’s heads. The four of them had gathered in the courtyard of Moonshadow Hall. The younger priestess gave a slight nod.

  “Yes, Strasus,” Feena answered. “I believe you’re right.”

  “But you know nothing about the book of slates or Variance’s interest in it?” Strasus asked, poking Keph’s thumb again.

  “No,” replied Feena.

  “It’s a shame the book was lost,” the wizard mused.

  “A shame,” Feena agreed. In a way, it was a lie. She felt as though a tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Selûne hadn’t been concerned by the book—only by what Keph might have unknowingly done with it. It seemed to her that Moonmaiden was just as happy to see the book in Variance’s hands. “I wish we knew more about who or what Variance was, though.”

  “I believe I can tell you the ‘what,’ High Moonmistress.” Strasus gave her a serious look. “From your description of her abilities and appearance, I would guess that she was a shade, once a human and now a creature of Shadow.” With his free hand he slipped the amethyst ring from a pouch. Feena and Julith had both agreed the wizard would be the best person to keep the ring safe. “This bauble is likewise a creation of Shadow. Given its apparent abilities, I sincerely doubt that Variance came from the Temple of Old Night. Note the design of the ring—it’s Netherese. And Variance referred to the fall of Netheril, didn’t she? I believe she may have been a very powerful sort of shade—one from the floating city of the same name.” Strasus made the ring disappear back into his pouch. “All the more reason, I think, for learning all we can of this book.”

  Julith said, “We are beginning a search of our archives for references to the book, sir. Something might still turn up. Anything you could tell us about your own studies of it would be very h
elpful.”

  Strasus turned his gaze on her and replied, “Of course, mistress.” His eyes sparkled. “Have we met before? And if we have, why haven’t I noticed your rather considerable intelligence?”

  “Julith has been hiding in other peoples’ shadows,” Feena said with a smile. “I think you’ll be seeing more of her, though.”

  “Much like your remarkable archives, I think. I had no idea such a resource existed. It’s fortunate it wasn’t damaged during the attack. Astounding.…”

  He looked up at Moonshadow Hall’s highest floor and absently poked Keph’s thumb once more.

  “Enough,” Keph snapped. He pulled his hand away. “Do that again and I’ll use it on you.”

  Strasus’s face faltered. A moment later, so did Keph’s. Feena and Julith exchanged a glance in silence. After the defeat of the Sharrans and the disappearance of the shadow mastiffs that had menaced the Stiltways, it hadn’t taken long for Strasus Thingoleir to come looking for his son. Though Moonshadow Hall had suffered its own losses—Sharrans had injured a number of clergy and three priestesses had lost their lives—Feena had immediately offered the temple as neutral ground for a reconciliation between father and son. She had stood by Keph as he poured out his tale.

  And Strasus had proven himself a loving father as well as a great wizard, sweeping Keph into a tearful embrace and offering him his forgiveness and support.

  Not that there wasn’t still tension between them. Keph’s hand shook and fell down.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  Strasus drew a slow breath. “Not to worry,” he said with a credible attempt at levity. “I suspect it will only affect creatures summoned to our world by magic.” He spread his arms. “You’re welcome to test the theory.”

  Keph kept his hand at his side, but gave his father a thin smile. “Another time maybe.”

  An acolyte, a long bandage covering a wound on her arm, came hurrying across the grass.

  “Your pardon, High Moonmistress,” she said. “There’s word from Guard Captain Manas. They found the Sharran temple and Jarull Cartcoster has been rescued. The captain also sends his respects to you.”