At the Gates of Darkness. Raymond E. Feist
the passion they had withheld over the years, but reading the report had rid her of that notion. It was merely a kiss of apology.Of course he wouldn’t tell me what he would do about this, she thought. Sandreena had no choice other than to do exactly what he would have done anyway: send herself on a mission that would most likely get her killed.
Swearing at the curse men had proved to be in her life, she moved out of his office and headed to the armoury to see if her newfound rank would provide her with better armour and weapons.
PUG HELD UP HIS HAND.
The two black armoured guardsmen at the door to the ancient temple were startled to see the three men appear out of a grey void that had not been there moments before.
Pug said, ‘We’re here to see the High Priest.’
Amirantha looked up at the sky and saw a clear, starry night. ‘We’re somewhere in the east, aren’t we?’
Jim said, ‘Rillanon. This is the temple of Lims-Kragma.’
Amirantha said, ‘That makes sense.’
On the world of Midkemia, no one had more knowledge of dying and the dead than the High Priest of the Goddess of Death. The two guards still looked unsettled by the sudden arrival of the three men, but their duty was to defend the portal only when there was an obvious attack underway. Their time was usually spent making sure that those arriving to offer prayers for their dearly departed remained orderly. Finally, one of them indicated that Pug and his companions were free to enter with a wave of his hand.
They passed through a large antechamber, replete with frescos of the Death Goddess. The exquisite brush strokes portrayed the final judge of every mortal being as a warm, benevolent figure, welcoming them into the vast hall of the main cathedral. Benches for contemplation and prayer by the faithful had been erected along both sides, while against the back wall two large shelves held hundreds of votive candles, most of which were alight; each flame had been placed to light the way of a loved one into Lims-Kragma’s halls.
Pug took a moment to regard the heroic statue, some twelve feet tall, of the goddess, that dominated the cathedral. She held out one hand in a welcoming gesture, and in the other held a silver net. The symbolism was obvious: no one escaped the drawer of nets, but she welcomed all equally. Personally, Pug found the sentiment slightly ironic, since he had proved very adept at avoiding her embrace so far, although his bargain with the goddess was taking its toll on his mind and heart.
Three priests prayed before the statue, while on one side several petitioners seeking the goddess’s mercy for a recently departed loved-one lit candles and offered prayers. As the three men approached, one of the priests turned and rose to greet them.
‘Pug,’ he said, in a neutral tone. ‘What brings you here?’
‘I need to speak with High Priest Marluke,’ said Pug. ‘The matter is most urgent.’
‘It always is, isn’t it?’ said the Priest, dryly. ‘Yet I am certain the Holy Father will consider it urgent as well. Please, follow me.’
He led them past the statue to a small door between the base of the edifice and the first row of burning candles. He opened it and motioned for them to go through, then followed, closing the door behind.
The priest led them down a long hall and into a large room devoid of decoration. The only items in the room were four chairs and a simple wooden table. ‘I’ll inform the High Priest that you are here,’ he said.
At that moment, a door opposite the one through which they had entered opened, and an elderly man in a simple black cowled robe, entered the room. ‘He already knows,’ he said. ‘You may leave us,’ he instructed the priest.
He was tall, but starting to stoop a little with age, and he was slender to the point of gauntness; his hair was light grey, almost white, but his dark eyes were alert and keen and he had an engaging smile.
As the younger priest departed, the old prelate held out his hand to Pug and they shook. ‘As if you could pop into my temple without me knowing it,’ he said. Then he added, ‘Ah, Jim Dasher, or is it Baron James today?’
Jim shook his hand as well and said, ‘Today it’s Jim.’
‘And who is this?’ asked the old man, waving at the three of them to sit.
‘Amirantha, Warlock of the Satumbria,’ said Pug.
The High Priest’s eyebrows rose. ‘A warlock!’ He sat as soon as the others had taken their seats. ‘I’ve sent for wine and food, if you’re hungry.’
Jim nodded his approval.
Looking at Amirantha, the High Priest said, ‘Leave the serious discussion until my servant has left us. Until then, let us become more acquainted. I thought the Satumbria were obliterated.’
‘All but me,’ said Amirantha without emotion. ‘We were always a small nation. Just a loose confederation of villages, really, scattered around the northern grasslands of Novindus. The Emerald Queen’s army ended our existence.’
‘Ah,’ said the High Priest as his servant entered. All four men sat silently as food and wine was served; then the servant withdrew.
The High Priest looked at Pug and said, ‘No matter how many years pass, you look no different.’ He turned to Amirantha and said, ‘When I first met our friend here, I was a young priest, just ordained, and working in the temple at Krondor. While I was there, this fellow had several encounters with the High Priestess.’ He looked regretful. ‘A wonderful woman, really, when you got to know her; she was my mentor. It’s because of her that I had this impossible office thrust upon me.’
He looked again at Amirantha. ‘I suspect he will look the same years after I’ve gone to meet our Lady.’
Amirantha only nodded politely in response to the High Priest’s musing.
Then the old man’s manner changed. ‘Enough reminiscing. What brings you here at this late hour?’
Pug said, ‘I am not sure, myself. Amirantha, Jim?’
The Warlock turned to Jim, ‘You begin.’
Jim had just bitten off a large hunk of bread and cheese, and was forced to wash it down with red wine; after almost choking a little, he said, ‘Very well.’ Again he shared his experiences in the Jal-Pur desert, describing the scene of slaughter and self-sacrifice as best he could. Given his years of training in observing detail, the narrative lasted almost half an hour.
None of the others spoke until he was finished. Pug said, ‘That is horrible, indeed.’ He looked at Amirantha, ‘You demanded that we have an expert in death present. Now, what other than the obvious sickening detail, troubles you? What are we missing?’
Amirantha had been preparing for this question since he had first heard Jim’s account. ‘Nothing that Jim observed really makes sense. I will explain, but first let me ask the Holy Father, how much demon lore he understands?’
‘Little, truth to tell,’ answered the old man. ‘Here our concerns lie in preparing the faithful for their eventual journey to our Lady. We are put upon this world to help a fragile humanity understand that this life is but a part of a more profound journey; to let them know that if they live a just and honourable existence our mistress will place them upon a proper path towards ultimate enlightenment. Beyond that, our knowledge is gathered piecemeal; we share what we know with others,’ he acknowledged Pug with an inclination of his head, ‘and have in turn been given the benefit of their wisdom.’ He laughed. ‘Besides, I was told to work with Pug.’
Amirantha looked surprised. ‘Told to? By whom?’
‘By Our Lady herself,’ said the old priest. ‘It is rare to have a visitation, but