him knew he should calm himself. He was being hotheaded and rash, something he always dismissed in others. The priests had vexed him for years, however. If diplomacy and bribes did nothing for them, it was time to try threats and brute force.
“Look for a moment from my perspective,” Pelarak said. “Let’s assume I agree with you; the rogues need put in line, and this nonsensical war ended. But if I join now after you hold a sword over our heads, what prevents us from being puppets of the Trifect instead of servants to our god? We would kill kings for making the same threats you have made.”
Maynard felt a bit of his hotheadedness leave him. Something very dangerous was about to happen. Pelarak did not make threats lightly, and his assumption of safety seemed to be arrogance in hindsight. The priests could kill him with a wave of their hands. All his power and gold meant nothing if they felt Karak wanted his head.
“Rudely put, perhaps,” Maynard said, falling deeper into his political persona, “but you do speak a bit of truth. We need your aid, Pelarak. For if you are not with us, then I fear the actions of your women assassins places you against us.”
“I will deal with them in time,” Pelarak said. “I told you, they do not represent us. Karak is our lord, and I am his closest servant. He wishes this war over. How, though, is where you and I will disagree.”
“Presumptuous,” Maynard said. “How will we disagree?”
Pelarak stood, smoothing out his black robe as he did. A free hand rubbed his balding head. Maynard did not like this at all. The high priest was very rarely hesitant. This was bad. Very bad.
“We will aid you, but only under the condition that you give us someone into our safekeeping, someone to join our order. The next time you wave a sword over our necks, we will have someone to wave ours over as well.”
Maynard felt his heart sink.
“Who do you want?” he asked.
Pelarak might have smiled or gloated, but that was not the man he was.
“Two of the faceless sisters came to me last night to inform me of their actions. I did not reprimand them, not yet. They have your daughter, Alyssa. She must join our order.”
Maynard felt his world tear and twist in chaotic ways inside his mind. Alyssa, a priestess of Karak? She would be safe from the Kulls, perhaps, and certainly no threat to his estate. But would he ever see her again? Who would she become cloistered within the walls, battered daily with Karak’s rhetoric of order and darkness?
Then he saw the hidden threat. If the faceless women had Alyssa, then they could do to her whatever they wished. If he refused…
“I must accept,” he said.
“Good,” Pelarak said, a smile spreading across his face. “I am glad we could reach an agreement. We aid one another, as friends, not master and servant.”
“Of course. You speak most wisely,” Maynard said, the lie bitter on his lips.
When he turned to leave, Pelarak stopped him with a word.
“Oh, Maynard,” the high priest said. “Make sure she is still heir to your estate. If you render her worthless, we will do the same.”
A shard of ice grew inside his heart.
“I wouldn’t think of it,” he said.
“Good,” said Pelarak. “Go with Karak’s blessing.”
He did, though if he could, he’d toss any blessing of Karak’s into the foulest open sewer and leave it to rot. If he could, he’d have Pelarak suffer the same fate.
“Forgive me, Alyssa,” he said as he left the temple, giving one last look to the priests and priestess bowed before the giant statue of Karak, their heartfelt wails reaching to the sky. He thought of Alyssa on her knees beside them, and the image twisted the ice in his heart all the harder.
Alyssa was already dressed and sitting beside the fire when Yoren awoke. It blazed healthily as the young woman tossed a few extra branches so she could watch them burn.
“Good morning, love,” Yoren said.
“Morning,” Alyssa replied, her voice dull. She might have been talking to a rock.
Feeling the call of nature, Yoren hopped up, stepped behind a tree, and began urinating. When he finished, he stepped back around and was looked surprised to see Alyssa staring at him intently.
“Something the matter?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said, turning her gaze back to the fire. “Only nothing.”