Silverthorn. Raymond E. Feist
the Prince aside. ‘These men wear the mark of Lims-Kragma in her guise as the Drawer of Nets, she who gathers all to her in the end.’
Arutha nodded. ‘It fits in. We know the Nighthawks are contacted through the temple. Even should the hierarchy of the temple be ignorant of this business, someone within the temple must be a confederate of the Nighthawks. Come, Nathan, we must question this other one.’ They returned to the bed where the conscious man lay. Looking down upon him, Arutha said, ‘Who offers the price for my death?’
Nathan was called to attend the unconscious man. ‘Who are you?’ demanded the Prince of the other. ‘Answer now, or the pain you’ve endured will be merely a hint of what will be visited upon you.’ Arutha did not enjoy the prospect of torture, but he would not stop at any means to discover who was responsible for the attack upon him. The question and the threat were answered by silence.
After a moment Nathan returned to Arutha’s side. ‘The other is dead,’ he said softly. ‘We must treat this one cautiously. That man should not have died from your blow to the head. They may have means to command the body not to fight against death, but to welcome it. It is said even a hardy man may will himself to death, given enough time.’
Arutha noticed sweat beading upon the brow of the wounded man as Nathan examined him. With concern on his face, the priest said, ‘He is fevered, and it rises apace. I will have to tend him before there can be an accounting.’ The priest quickly fetched his potion and forced some fluid down the man’s throat as soldiers held his jaws apart. Then the priest began to intone his clerical magic. The man on the bed began to writhe frantically, his face a contorted mask of concentration. Tendons stood out on his arms, and his neck was a mass of ropy cords as he struggled against his confinement. Suddenly he let forth a hollow-sounding laugh and fell back, eyes closed.
Nathan examined the man. ‘He is unconscious, Highness.’ The priest added, ‘I have slowed the fever’s rise, but I don’t think I can halt it. Some magic agency works here. He fails before our eyes. It will take time to counter whatever magic is at work upon him … if I have the time.’ There was doubt in Nathan’s voice. ‘And if my arts are equal to the task.’
Arutha turned to Gardan. ‘Captain, take ten of your most trusted men and make straight for the Temple of Lims-Kragma. Inform the High Priestess I command her attendance at once. Bring her by force if needs be, but bring her.’
Gardan saluted, but there was a flicker in his eyes. Laurie and Jimmy knew he disliked the thought of bearding the priestess in her own halls. Still, the staunch captain turned and obeyed his Prince without comment.
Arutha returned to the stricken man, who lay in fevered torment. Nathan said, ‘Highness, the fever rises, slowly, but it rises.’
‘How long will he live?’
‘If we can do nothing, through the balance of the night, no longer.’
Arutha struck his left hand with his balled right fist in frustration. There was less than six hours before dawn. Less than six hours to discover the cause for the attack upon him. And should this man die, they would be back where they started, and worse, for his unknown enemy would not likely fall into another snare.
‘Is there anything else you can do?’ asked Laurie softly.
Nathan considered. ‘Perhaps …’ He moved away from the ill man and motioned his acolytes away from the bedside. With a gesture he indicated that one of them should bring him a large volume of priestly spells.
Nathan instructed the acolytes and they quickly did his bidding, knowing the ritual and their parts in it. A pentagram was chalked upon the floor, and many runic symbols laid within its boundary, with the bed at the centre. When they were finished, everyone who stood within the room was encompassed by the chalk marks upon the floor. A lighted candle was placed at every point of the design, and a sixth given to Nathan, who stood studying the book. Nathan began waving the light in an intricate pattern while he read aloud in a language unknown to the nonclerics in the room. His acolytes stood quietly to one side, responding in unison at several points during the incantation. The others felt a strange stilling of the air, and as the final syllables were uttered, the dying man groaned, a low and piteous sound.
Nathan snapped shut the book. ‘Nothing less powerful than an agent of the gods themselves may pass through the boundaries of the pentagram without my leave. No spirit, demon, or being sent by any dark agency can trouble us now.’
Nathan then directed everyone to stand outside the pentagram, opened the book again, and began reading another chant. Quickly the words tumbled from the stocky priest. He finished the spell and pointed at the man upon the bed. Arutha looked at the ill man but could see nothing amiss, then, as he turned to speak to Laurie, noticed a change. Seeing the man from the corner of his eye, Arutha could discern a nimbus of faint light around him, filling the pentagram, not visible when viewed directly. It was a light, milky quartz in colour. Arutha asked, ‘What is this?’
Nathan faced Arutha. ‘I have slowed his passage through time, Highness. To him an hour is now a moment. The spell will last only until dawn, but to him less than a quarter of an hour will have passed. Thus we gain time. With luck, he will now linger until midday.’
‘Can we speak to him?’
‘No, for we would sound like buzzing bees to him. But if we need, I can remove the spell.’
Arutha regarded the slowly writhing, fevered man. His hand seemed poised a scant inch above the bed, hanging in space. ‘Then,’ said the Prince impatiently, ‘we must wait upon the pleasure of the High Priestess of Lims-Kragma.’
The wait was not long, nor was there much pleasure evident in the manner of the High Priestess. There was a commotion outside, and Arutha hurried to the door. Beyond it he found Gardan waiting with a woman in black robes. Her face was hidden behind a thick, gauzy black veil, but her head turned towards the Prince.
A finger shot out towards Arutha, and a deep, pleasant-sounding feminine voice said, ‘Why have I been commanded here, Prince of the Kingdom?’
Arutha ignored the question as he took in the scene. Behind Gardan stood a quartet of Guards, spears held across their chests, barring the way to a group of determined-looking temple guards wearing the black and silver tabards of Lims-Kragma. ‘What passes, Captain?’
Gardan said, ‘The lady wishes to bring her guards within, and I have forbidden it.’
In tones of icy fury the priestess said, ‘I have come as you bid, though never have the clergy acknowledged temporal authority. But I will not come as a prisoner, not even for you, Prince of Krondor.’
Arutha said, ‘Two guards may enter, but they will stand away from the prisoner. Madam, you will cooperate and enter, now.’ Arutha’s tone left little doubt of his mood. The High Priestess might be commander of a powerful sect, but before her stood the ruler of the Kingdom absolute, save the King, a man who would brook no interference in some matter of paramount importance. She nodded to the two foremost guards, and they entered. The door was closed behind them, and the two guards were taken off to one side by Gardan. Outside, the palace guards kept watchful eyes upon the remaining temple guards and the wicked curved swords carried at their belts.
Father Nathan greeted the High Priestess with a stiffly formal bow, their two orders having little affection for each other. The High Priestess chose to ignore the priest’s presence.
Her first remark upon seeing the pentagram upon the floor was ‘Do you fear otherworld interference?’ Her tone was suddenly analytical and even.
It was Nathan who answered. ‘Lady, we are not sure of many things, but we do seek to prevent complications from whatever source, physical or spiritual.’
She did not acknowledge his words but stepped as close to the two men, one dead and the other wounded, as she could. Seeing the black tunics, she faltered a step, then turned to face Arutha. Through the veil he could almost feel her malevolent gaze upon him. ‘These men are of my order. How do they come to lie here?’
Arutha’s face was