"And yet. .. Cadithal, consort of Ferae, Goddess of Growing Things, is unhappy tonight. For there are some here …" Hederick let the suggestion trail off meaning shy;fully. 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 imme shy;diately, 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 glitter shy;ing 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 frus shy;tration, his with drunken joy.
Then the High Theocrat reached out to reclaim the Dia shy;mond 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 Pres shy;ence. "Sauvay, stand with me!" he cried. He prayed des shy;perately. 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? V\fere 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, spill shy;ing 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 shiv shy;ered. 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 whim shy;pers 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, hun shy;dreds! 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 bed shy;time 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 fin shy;gers 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 Pres shy;ence.