The high priest frowned, noting a sudden absence of one particular subject. Where was the peasant leader? Where was Uldyssian?
Arihan could certainly see where the woman was. She stood at the center of things, reveling in the carnage and looking as if an angel reborn. A blazing aura continued to surround her and seemed to spread to other followers even as he watched. They began to beat the morlu and Peace Warders down.
Hashir is lost! Lost! The bumbling fools had done it, not Arihan. He had followed the plan to the letter, the perfect plan of his master.
Now…if only the Primus would see it that way…
No sooner had he thought that than Arihan tried to smother the thought.
Too late.
My Arihan…I would see you before me…
The high priest of Dialon stifled a shiver. He had served the Primus well these many years. There might be some pain involved, but the Primus would certainly not waste such a valuable servant.
Arihan rose from the stone floor of the meditation chamber he had usurped for his efforts. He dismissed the scrying globe and doused the oil lamps in the walls with the wave of a hand, then, uncharacteristically, rushed from the room. Now would not be a good time to let the master wait, even for a moment. Let him see that the high priest did not fear to come to him.
The same stolid guards let him pass into the private chambers. Arihan tramped bravely through the darkened outer room, ignoring little sounds around him that he had never noticed in the past. What he could not ignore, however, was a silky material that draped his face just before he reached the inner door.
The high priest spit out what was in his mouth and wiped away the rest. The gauzy material reminded him of a spider’s webbing, but that could not be. The Primus had always been very fastidious, even in his torturing. Whatever the filmy substance was, it surely had a logical purpose.
As Arihan wiped the last away, the door opened to admit him. He stepped through immediately.
“My Arihan…” came the Primus’s voice. “So good it is that you have come…”
His face a perfect mask, the high priest bowed toward the voice. “Ever I am at your service, most Holy One.”
“Ahh, yesss, but how good is that service?” An unsettling green light materialized above the throne, at last revealing the Primus. Although the figure on the throne smiled, there was what Arihan took for strain in the effort.
“All you’ve asked, I’ve done,” the high priest cautiously returned.
“And where is the female? Is she on her way to me at this very moment?”
“Nay, my lord. She is lost because of the fools in Hashir. They underestimated her. It was no fault of mine that the plan did not succeed, Great One.”
The Primus’s gaze grew terrible. The smile reversed itself. “And is it mine, then?”
Arihan caught himself. “Of course not! Never could such a thing be! The priests in Hashir were inept in their execution of your grand plot! They misused the morlu and their guards and have brought worse havoc down upon themselves. I fear, most holy lord, that the temple there is lost.”
“This one is most, most disappointed, my Arihan.” The Primus rose. As he did, the high priest noticed a spider on the wrist of the right hand. It was at least twice as large as the one he had seen on his last visit and surely should have been noticeable by his master. “Most disappointed. Assumptions were made. Promises were made…” Arihan’s master shivered and looked up. “Promises were made…”
“The female…she was stronger than expected,” the priest offered. “At least as strong as the male. That was something no one knew.”
Much to his relief, the Primus brightened. “Yesss…that could be useful. He would understand that this could not possibly have been foreseen.”
Exactly who this other was of whom he spoke, Arihan did not know, but the Primus’s reaction sent a chill through the high priest. There were only three beings that the son of Mephisto would fear…his father and the other two Prime Evils.
To assuage them, even the Primus would need a scapegoat. Arihan suddenly wondered how best he might flee, well aware that his chances of success in that direction were likely nil.
Another spider appeared, this one crawling out of the Primus’s collar just as had the one during the previous audience. Arihan belatedly noticed other small and very agitated forms scurrying over the throne…and even over his own feet. What were all these spiders doing here and why did his master react with such indifference to them?
“My Arihan…” the figure before him murmured. The Primus reached out to the high priest, who had no choice but to step nearer.
So close, though, Arihan now noticed something wrong with the Primus’s eyes. He had seen Lucion’s true eyes…and these were not them. In fact, so near, it was possible to tell that each was actually composed of three or four separate ones…and all were as crimson as fresh blood.
“Most Holy One,” he began, seeking some word that would mean his salvation. “It is possible that this woman—”
But the Primus shook his head. “No, my Arihan. No. The plot—my glorious plot—should have triumphed! He will demand the reason why and she may not be enough—”
“’He,’ O Great One?” the human blurted, trying to stall for time. The many spells he knew were unlikely to work here, but Arihan had to attempt something. Unfortunately, it was impossible to concentrate for another reason. There were too many spiders, either crawling on the throne, the walls, the Primus—and himself, Arihan discovered—or dangling from the ceiling. Some of them were as large as the high priest’s hand or even larger.
And at last Arihan recalled what those spiders indicated. He knew what stood before him, disguised as his master. He had never seen the demon, but had, as a young priest, read of him and heard the rumors that the creature dwelled deep in the recesses of the grand temple.
“Our lord Diablo, my good Arihan…” the false Primus answered to his question. “He it will be that demands not only a reason why, but the one who failed!” As he spoke, the figure’s handsome face began to rip away. Loose threads erupted where the flesh split, threads of silk.
Spiders’ threads.
And underneath, was a hairy monstrosity that once Arihan would have gladly summoned, a demon who served the true lord of the high priest’s order.
“Great One!” he gasped. “Let me go with you to speak with the wondrous Diablo! Together, we can—”
The robe tore apart as a huge, somewhat manlike shape with eight limbs expanded. Arihan’s desperate suggestion was cut off as four clawed hands seized him and pulled his face within inches of a savage pair of mandibles. Saliva dripped on the high priest’s immaculate garments.
“Together we shall go, yes, my Arihan, but to present your head on the platter! The head only, yes…for the rest of you this one will need for strength when facing the grand and magnificent Diablo!”
The mandibles sank into the high priest’s throat, ripping out everything. Arihan had no chance to utter even a gurgle. His head flopped to the side, barely held by some bits of bone and sinew.
Astrogha swallowed the mouthful, then shifted the body to begin sucking out the precious fluids. What the human did not understand was that the demon had actually done him a tremendous favor, killing him so quickly. Lord Diablo might have made him suffer longer, torturing the puny mortal until he was satisfied that he not only knew everything, but had put Arihan through all that entertained the master of terror.