'But it is possible,' Mihn insisted.
Ehla took a long sip of tea and continued to stare into the fire, thinking. 'It is; a spell of concealment. I have used something similar many times before, but for a ghost it will have to be painted onto your skin- no, tattooed, to bind the energy within, otherwise the efficacy is only temporary. A tattoo is part of you; it will make the spell part of you, only to be removed if the skin itself is cut away.'
'How long will you need to prepare?'
Ehla wrinkled her nose. 'A day to find the ingredients and tools and to make the necessary preparations. I assume the Chief Steward will be able to provide everything I need. Should I tell him why?'
'Tell him nothing, not yet.'
'Very well. Tomorrow night might be rushing matters, so make it the following night.'
Mihn stood, drained the tea and handed the bowl back to Fernal with an appreciative grin. It didn't stop the chill in his bones, but it had made him feel blissful. He sighed as he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. For the first time since returning to Tirah he had a purpose. 'Thank you. I will return at dusk the day after tomorrow.'
CHAPTER 13
Legana stopped in the dark lee of a building and took a moment to clear the dizziness surging through her head. She tried not to massage her temple as she so desperately wanted to, knowing the movement would only draw attention. Instead, she pressed her fingers against the stone wall, glad of its cold, reassuring presence -until she realised she was pushing her fingertips right into the stone. Again she had to smother the urge to giggle like a little girl.
'I'm going to enjoy being a Goddess,' Legana said softly to the night as she ran a finger over the five indentations she'd made in the granite. 'Oh yes, I am.'
The cool night air filled her lungs with a pleasant rush. The Lady's necklace under her clothes felt like a warm tingle on her skin. The giddiness was less frequent now, just occasional bursts of confusing and conflicting sensations as the two sides of Legana slowly became accustomed to each other: mortal and divine; outside of time, yet requiring sleep and food like she had before.
Legana had taken a fair range of narcotics in her varied life – both in rituals at the Temple of the Lady and on assignment in dens of every vice known to man – and knew nothing could compare to this. Drunk on Godhood, Legana had almost forgotten to kill Mikiss that first day as she stumbled about their shared rooms. Fortunately, the former Menin army messenger was new to his own powers and hadn't sensed the change in her in time. His moment of incomprehension had been enough for Legana to snatch up a sword and remove the vampire's head.
He barely saw me move. He still looked puzzled as he fell, she remembered, grinning to herself.
Since then Legana had been careful not to forget her mortal life, even if that was now behind her. She still had a mission, and that required preparation. It had taken more than a day for her to get a grip on her body's limitations again; now that she was connected to Fate, some of her instincts were conflicting, contrary to the requirements of a physical body. Once she had felt able again, Legana had visited Hale, the Temple District of Byora, to scout her target. She had kept clear of the Temple of the Lady, preferring to deal with matters in turn.
Legana hadn't dared to actually sit in on one of the night-time rituals at the Temple of Alterr. Even in the smaller of the two domed chambers, the one dedicated to the lesser moon, Kasi, it was likely at least one priest would also be a mage. Under the circumstances, she couldn't afford to take the chance that someone might notice her, mark her as unusual.
She forced herself to keep walking, to remain unremarkable. Hale was never deserted, not entirely; the rhythm of prayer and ritual demanded regular attention. Few of the temples here would perform a High Reverence, but all had their daily observances and remained open for worshippers much of the day and night. A long silk cloak covered her entire body down to her ankles, rippling gently in the evening breeze. Legana had found that she could ignore the cold of winter easily enough, but the dark green cloak remained a useful way to hide swords and clothing that might be seen as out of place in Hale.
'Damn piety,' Legana grumbled. 'Too many witnesses during the day, and Alterr's services take place at night. Let's hope the Lady's recovered enough to smile on me now.'
She reached a crossroad. On the right she could see three peaked buildings set back from the road. They were connected by slender arches, with a courtyard marked out in between them: the linked Goddesses of Love.
No doubt the priests of Triena and Kantay are tucked up in bed and trying to ignore the sounds of worship coming from their sister's temple. Legana smiled. How much easier this would have been if Ayarl Lier, her target, were the kind to take a regular trip to Etesia's temple, where the purple and red lanterns shone and lust was worshipped with enthusiasm. As it was, she'd watched the man from a distance as he walked in the street one day. His manner made it likely the young boy trailing at his heel was a catamite, so she'd dismissed the possibility.
The temple of the Moon Goddess was at the end of the road, past the linked temples, and it was dominated by the great dome of Alterr's chamber on the left. A long crescent wall with a single gate blocked the way. The top of Kasi's smaller chamber was visible on the right. In the compound behind were the half-dozen buildings that comprised the more mundane part of any temple complex: dormitories, stables and offices, for the most ptirt.
Legana knew several of those dormitories normally given over to novices now housed penitents, the militia of choice among the priesthood, it appeared – or the piety of preference among mercenaries, depending on how one wished to look at it. Novices were usually young, and bound to the temple for a certain number of years, while penitents tended to be significantly older. Penitents didn't need a formal commitment before an altar, just a robe and a tattoo on their index fingers. Before they had served the agreed period of penitence, they were tied only loosely to the temple; experience showed that many men just couldn't adapt to the rigours demanded by temple life.
She ducked through the low gate, one hand ensuring her hood still covered her copper-tinted hair, and stopped dead. A strange sensation slithered down her spine, quite unlike anything she had ever felt before. Like a faint scent on the breeze there was something unexpected within the compound. Slowly she turned to the left, where Alterr's chamber stood, a smooth-sided half-dome forty yards in diameter, painted a stark white that glowed very faintly in the moonlight.
The door was shut and a pair of penitents were on guard outside. She checked the rest of the courtyard: there were no other obvious guards, but there were men loitering. Legana frowned. As inexperienced in magic as she was, something told her this wasn't a simple spell. She could feel raw energy in her veins, part of the very make-up of her Godhood, but what she felt now touched her even deeper inside.
'So what's going on in there?' she wondered aloud. Without really intending to, she took a few paces towards the chamber. The penitents stiffened, hands reaching for the spears leaning casually in the dark recesses on either side of the chamber door. They were of a similar height to her, and they looked like they both had a fair amount to be penitent about, but she reckoned even as a mere mortal she'd have been able to take them both – men always underestimated a pretty face.
'Temple's closed for a private service,' one of the guards called.
Legana hardly heard him, so intent was she on the curious prickle on "her skin. The sensation got no stronger as she neared the chamber and she came to an abrupt stop, suddenly realising that it was not emanating from the building at all.