man is just a liar and you are his deluded slave. I caged the words behind my clenched teeth. The priests had always possessed the power to arouse my anger, an anger I knew would cloud wits I needed this night.
“I’ll deny anything that would obstruct my brother’s divine path,” I said.
The lesser priest’s grimace returned for an instant, this time mixed with palpable anger. But, however great his frustration and whatever power lurked in his veins, he must have known he couldn’t hope to match the combined gifts of those who shielded me.
“The Mestra-Dirhmar,” he continued, tone hard but rich in unspoken meaning, “bid me tell you that he wishes to share a dream with you, a dream of truth.”
Did they always know? I wondered, meeting his stare. If so, why did they spare me?
“Where?” I asked, hating the uncertain grate of my voice.
Seeing my fear, the corners of his mouth twitched in what I suspected had been the closest they had come to a smile in decades. “The Sepulchre.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
I refused to meet him alone, taking Eresa and Varij with me as I trod the stone steps into the darkness. I told the others to wait in the Sepulchre itself, commanding in the southland tongue that they exact a bloody and fiery punishment on the assembled lesser priests should any screams or commotion sound from below.
I knew what lay beneath the Sepulchre, of course, all Stahlhast did, though few ever saw it and when they spoke of it they did so in whispers. I had long assumed it must be a monstrous and wondrous thing, so was faintly disappointed by the sight of a black stone plinth veined in gold rather than the multi-hued and glowing column of my imagination. Still, there was a power to it. I could sense it as I drew closer. It was similar in some ways to the feeling of being in proximity to another of the Divine Blood, but less constant, bringing to mind a hornet’s nest in its constant, discordant thrum.
The Mestra-Dirhmar stood with his hands clasped together and head lowered in contemplation of the stone, remaining still and failing to acknowledge my presence until I voiced an impatient cough. Even then it was the space of several heartbeats before he spoke, surprising me with the sorrow that coloured his voice.
“Do you know what you have done?” he asked.
“Served my brother in his divine mission,” I replied promptly, suspecting some form of trap in his question.
“His divine mission,” he repeated, speaking each word with soft, bitter precision. He fell silent once more, eyes lingering on the stone before slowly raising them to mine. “You saved him, didn’t you? The battle with the Wohten all those years ago. Your vision, your dream of truth.”
I scanned the chamber as my unease deepened, Eresa and Varij stepping closer to me as they sensed my agitation.
“We’re alone here,” the Mestra-Dirhmar assured me. “At least,” he added, extending a hand so that his palm hovered over the stone, “as alone as one can be in this place.”
“How long have you known?” I asked. “About the dreams?”
“Since your first visit to the Great Tor.” A tic of amusement showed in his gaze as he watched my hand move instinctively to the tiger’s tooth beneath my robe. “You think that kept you from us? A worthless trinket carved with gibberish. No, it was your brother’s threats that stayed my hand, coward that I was. And when I realised the depth of my folly, you had already gathered this lot.” The priest jerked his chin at Eresa and Varij.
“And yet, with my nature revealed, you never demanded I be brought here. Why?”
“Because it would have given him the excuse he so desperately wants to destroy our order and claim the Sepulchre for himself. That was at least partly his reasoning in having you find these others. Useful as they have been, they were bait in his trap.” He angled his head, eyebrow raised into a mocking arc. “Didn’t you know?”
“All lies.” I voiced a scornful laugh, shaking my head. “That’s all you ever had to offer, old man.”
I turned to leave but stopped when he spoke on. His voice lacked any particular urgency but the soft sincerity it held, so rich in fear as well as sorrow, was enough to freeze me in place.
“He was supposed to die that day.”
I turned back to find him once again contemplating the stone. His features were a mix of