"Tal Tahir artifacts," Dorland said, beside him.
"I knew they were kept in the temple, but I've never seen them." ,
Paul picked up one of the figurines and found it to be surprisingly heavy. Metal of some kind—its surface gleamed a dull silver. His first impression was of an insect—a long, sticklike torso with four spindly limbs. But if it was an insect, it was one that walked on two legs. The details of the head and face were too fine to be discerned. The other figurines appeared to be of the same creature, but in different poses.
"Is this Lord Tern?" he asked. When Dorland didn't answer, Paul glanced at him and found him staring at the creature. "Are you all right?" Dorland's eyes moved slowly to Paul. "I think so," he said.
Paul wasn't sure which question Dorland had answered. He replaced the figurine and closed the door. The next cabinet had a glass strip in the door, but in the dim light Paul couldn't see through it. Inside he found shallow shelves that held long, slender tubes. He examined one briefly and decided it might be a musical instrument. He replaced it and opened the door wide to step into the cabinet. It would be a trifle crowded, but he thought there was enough space for both of them to squeeze in between the front edge of the shelves and the doors.
He stepped back out, closed the door again and looked critically at the glass strip. In the dim light from the globes he was sure he and Dorland
wouldn't be visible inside the cabinet.
"What do you think?" he asked.
Dorland looked at him. "About what?"
"About hiding in here. We can't go out that way." Paul jerked a thumb toward the door. "We have to get out of sight before the ceremony starts."
Dorland looked at the cabinet. "Seems okay," he said simply, and without a word he stepped inside. Paul fitted himself in beside him and pulled the door closed.
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William Greenleaf CLARION 105
Cleve Quintan saw something that made him go mad.
He swallowed. /'// keep my eyes closed, he told himself. When the ceremony starts, I won't look. That way I can't see anything that might... He decided he didn't want to think any more about that.
The globes provided enough light for a relatively good view of the chamber. Paul moved as far back from the door as he could. What if somebody decides to get something out of this cabinefl He touched the handle of the knife and made sure it was within easy reach in its sheath. Not that it would do much good if they were caught—
"Diana."
Paul jumped a little, even though the sound had come from Dorland in a soft whisper. "What?"
"I can feel her," Dorland said. "The fear has been bred into me. Its breath is mine, but I can overcome it because it has no flesh and bone."
"What are you talking about?"
"Diana and Shari were flesh and bone. They are ... close in this place." Dorland's voice was flat, but Paul could sense a deep, underlying emotion. "How long has it been since I've thought of them? How long since I've allowed their flesh and blood and love to come into my mind? Our life together, our too-short life—"
The words choked off. Paul shifted nervously.
"Dorland, this isn't the time to—"
"Little Shari. Ah . . ."
Then Paul heard muted voices and the sounds of feet on the wooden floor of the outer chamber. Dorland fell silent. Through the glass Paul saw several men in robes enter the chamber and begin arranging themselves around the room. The robes were white, which meant the men were deacons, if Ogram knew what he was talking about. Slow
footsteps moved past the cabinet and a hazy shadow blocked the light, then moved on. Paul realized the deacons had taken positions against the wall, all around the cabinets. For a while there was only silence. Paul eased himself forward for a better view.
Another line of men came through the door and moved up close to the chauka. These were the elders, with white robes trimmed in scarlet. After they had gathered around the chauka, an old man in a scarlet robe came slowly into the room, leaning on a staff. This had to be High Elder Brill. The staff was curved slightly in a way that reminded Paul of the spire above the temple. A young boy walked beside Brill. The boy was tall and bone-skinny, a birdlike face with long nose, pointed chin, narrow mouth. The eyes made quick, darting movements as he followed a half step behind Brill. Paul felt tension grip him. A young boy—that meant a
semarch ceremony. A new recruit would be initi-ated into the Sons of God. Brill's steps took him directly to the gray dish of the chauka. Using the staff as support, he lowered himself to his knees in front of it. His robe flared out around him. The boy waited, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.
Stiff fabric rustled as the deacons withdrew something from the folds of their garments. Paul realized they were slender tubes like those on the shelves behind him. The deacons lifted the tubes to their mouths, and a single tone filled the room. It started low and shifted upward to a higher pitch. Then the eerie sounds merged as some of the men played low tones while others played high tones. The intertwined highs and lows were strangely familiar, even though Paul was sure he had never heard anything like it before.
The music ended abruptly, and High Elder Brill
CLARION 107
William Greenleaf
106
immediately began speaking. His words rang out in choppy, high-pitched syllables that made no sense to Paul. Then he switched to Basic:
"Oh Great One, who comforts us,
King of all holy places,
Lord Tern the Almighty,
Come, we ask you, hear our prayers."
The elders repeated the chant in slow, somber tones. Then Brill spoke again:
"Hear this our song to thee,
Monarch of monarchs in whose name
Our enemies are slain.
We praise thee!"
This went on for a few more minutes, and it didn't take long for Paul to realize that the main thrust of the chants was the Holy Order's hope that if they were faithful to Lord Tern, he would strike their enemies dead. Lord Tern and the Holy Order did not hold peace and love in high regard. High Elder Brill reached to his throat, fumbled for a moment with a clasp and removed something that had been hanging around his neck. Paul's eye caught a dull, round gleam. A coin? Brill fondled it almost lovingly, then held it in front of a rod that protruded slightly from the side of the chauka. He leaned back, still on his knees, and lifted his hands to hold them out toward the dish of the chauka—
another motion that was somehow familiar to Paul. Brill began to chant again, and the elders behind him joined in:
"Holy One, Holy One, Holy One—"
Paul turned to look at Dorland, but a hint of motion above the chauka made him snap his head back. The air above the chauka began to take on a soft glow. Paul stared at it, and his blood went cold. He involuntarily moved back and bumped into Dorland. Something on the shelf beside him went clunk! and he froze. In the chamber. High Elder Brill and the other elders continued to chant. Paul released pent-up breath and again peered out through the crack between the wooden doors. The rhythm of the chant soaked into him. His muscles felt soft and sluggish. The glow hovered like a mist above the chauka.
High Elder Brill moved his hands above the dish in a weaving pattern as if he were a magician conjuring up something out of thin air. Then—
Paul blinked. The glow above the chauka separated into two distinct forms, then four. Ribbonlike streamers of color swirled together as if obeying the command of Brill's moving hands. Paul wished suddenly that he were anyplace but here. The swirling shapes darkened into a shadow, formless and full of motion. Paul fought down the urgent desire to push the door open and dash out of this room to the freedom of the night outside. He felt Borland's hand on his shoulder, a reassuring squeeze. The shadow spun and flickered. Paul stared at it. He began to feel disoriented, cut off from reality . . .