He folded maul-like hands across his bulging belly and leaned back onto his elbows. 'Now. What was it you wished to ask of the Masters?'
She took a moment to conquer the fear and rage seething within. She almost blurted out another accusation. She turned it into an exhalation of breath and started again, to the accompaniment of the Messenger's knowing grin.
'I have done my utmost to serve the Dark Ones,' she said as evenly as possible. 'None could have served Them as faithfully. Now They – rather, now it appears that They have chosen to aid my mortal enemy against me. I dem – That is, I most humbly beg to know why They have done this thing. And what… what redress I must make to regain Their complete trust.' The black head swung ponderously from side to side.
'O, ye of little faith,' the Dwarf said. 'Is this truly how you venerate the Eldest? By leaping to the conclusion that They betrayed you?' He clucked. 'It is a sore disappointment to our mutual Masters. They harbored great hope for you.'
'But… but the Vridzish are worshippers of the Dark Ones! Aren't the Masters permitting them to come against me?'
'The Fallen Ones worshipped the beautiful principle of Oneness which is the Endless Night – ten millennia ago. Because of their own carelessness they lost their power among nations. They chose to blame the Dark Ones, who so loved them that They gave Their only begotten child to aid the Zr'gsz against the interlopers. So they turned away from Grace.' Synalon stared.
'The Fallen Ones no longer worship the Masters of the Void?' 'Think how easily your faith was swayed. The Hissers lost a world. One can understand their deviance. Almost.'
She ran her fingers through the stubble remaining of her hair. It was brittle and broke with tiny sounds like the snappings of a thousand minute twigs.
'You're saying the Dark Ones have no influence over the Vrid-zish?'
'Not necessarily. But like their opposite numbers, the Dark Ones work almost exclusively through those who chose to do Their bidding. Much depends on the vagaries of mortal servants on both sides, and even of those who take no side.' Her nerve returned and with it a measure of defiance.
'Then let the Dark Ones aid me against my sister. It should be sweet indeed for Them to taste complete vengeance against those who have forsworn Them.'
The demon tipped his head back and studied her down his nose before saying, 'It isn't that simple. You are on probation. Your behavior has caused our Masters doubts… grave doubts.' He shook his head. 'Only the worthy may receive the blessings of Darkness. You must prove yourself, my dear.' 'But… but Moriana has the magic of the Hissers to draw upon!'
'And haven't the Dark Ones given you many gifts of power and wisdom already?' He sat up and rested his heavy chin in the palm of one hand. Unlike a human, his palm was as ebon-dark as the rest of his body. 'Our Masters chose you because They deemed you the most powerful enchanter alive. Do you believe your sister is stronger?'
'Moriana?' She spat out the name. 'That pale-haired bitch-slut? Never!'
'Then you will have no trouble besting her. And in the process, reaffirming the Dark Ones' faith in you.' He turned and lay down full length on the table.
'Perhaps the next time the Masters will allow me to accept the tribute you tender so well,' he said, a touch of sadness in his voice. 'But until that hour…' 'Wait!' 'Farewell.'
The heaving, undulating transformation didn't reverse itself. Instead, white light exploded from the Dwarf, dazzling Synalon and throwing her back against the wall.
When her eyes opened she was on her knees again. The shape of the captive reclined on the table in a pose of mortal agony.
But not in the flesh. What lay on the dull stone was an obsidian likeness of the traitorous officer, perfect to every feature depicting each incision Synalon's knife had left, even showing bloodspills trailing from the wounds.
As such portentous events are prone to do, it happened quite by accident.
Fost dropped by one of the field headquarters Uriath had set up in a safe house after the courier pointed out that the High Councillor might not want the attention of Monitors drawn to too many comings and goings from his own mansion. Fost enjoyed appearing unannounced. It irritated Uriath, but the High Councillor could scarcely refuse to see someone as important and highly regarded in the movement as Fost.
'Time to clench your teeth and loosen your purse strings again, Uriath,' the courier said as he entered the basement of the chandler's shop which was the current secret command post. 'We've a contact who has blackmail goods on old Anacil's chief assistant chamberlain. Seems he's been diverting funds from Synalon's warchest.'
'Who's that?' a voice asked sharply, apparently from nowhere. Uriath looked up from what appeared to be a large pan of water resting on the table in front of him. The look of annoyance on his face quickly changed to surprise.
Fost's heart bounced into his throat. Frowning, unwilling to believe his ears, he moved forward to stare into the pan. He found himself face to face with Moriana.
'Uriath, what… Great Ultimate!' The image wavered as the princess fought to control herself. 'Whoever you are,' she said in a quavering voice, 'you bear too close a resemblance to someone I once knew.' Fost grinned.
'I don't know whether you'd call it resemblance so much as identity,' he said.
'Ah, Princess Moriana, we meet again,' said a voice from Fost's hip. I've never seen you lovelier. Treachery and murder agree with you, it appears.' 'Erimenes?' She gasped. 'Then it's – oh, Gods, Fost!'
'Guilty.' The word cracked across and the flippancy left his face. He opened his mouth only to shut it again. 'Are you well?' he finally asked, and instantly castigated himself. He'd had months to form a proper greeting and had done no better than a lovesick adolescent. The princess visibly strained to hold back her tears.
'I didn't think I'd ever be grateful that I didn't strike true,' she stammered, 'but now, oh, Fost, I'm so glad you're alive!'
'Don't chide yourself about your aim, Moriana. There's something I need to tell you. You don't have…' His voice stopped. His lips moved but no sound emerged.
'Fost? There's something wrong with the enchantment. I can't hear you.'
'You don't have anything to worry about, my dear,' he heard his own voice say. 'I'm working with the Underground to pave the way for your glorious return.' She frowned at his peculiar choice of words.
'I'm pleased to hear it. I'm laying plans with Uriath now so that we may strike coordinated blows to bring Synalon down.' She seemed about to say more, then glanced out of Fost's field vision. 'I… I have to go now.' The breaking of the connection hid a choked sob.
'Erimenes,' hissed Fost, picking his way from shadow to shadow through the streets. 'Why in Ust's name did you take over my voice? And how did you do it? This far from Athalau?'
'Necessity,' the philosopher said haughtily, 'is an excellent aid to my already significant ability. And it was urgently necessary that I prevent you from blurting that Moriana had the Destiny Stone instead of the Amulet of Living Flame.' 'But why? By the Emperor's rouged ass, she has to know!'
'Do you really want Uriath to know?' The courier fell abruptly silent. 'That's better. Someone might hear you – hsst!'
A footfall came to Fost's sensitive ears. He melted back into a doorway and concentrated on imitating shadow. A moment later a pair of Monitors swung around the corner and came right at him.
'And then I said to her, "If you'll just be reasonable, it might not be necessary to take you in, my sweet."'
His companion laughed loudly, an ugly, distorted sound through his mask. 'So wha'd she say? Huh?'
They passed by. The first Monitor elbowed his taller companion in the ribs. Fost's fingers tightened on his swordhilt. 'What do you think, Nalgo? "Oh, you Monitors have always been my ideal, so strong and brave! I'll do simply anything for the service of my Cit -"'