it. Cale followed, his worry growing for his friend.
Shaped from slabs of gray granite and green marble-both stones quarried from the majestic Thunder Peaks twenty miles to the north of the city-the Godscribe's two-story, rectangular temple stood open to the street. Though it wore a welcoming stair and beautifully columned portico, no worshipers waited outside to be allowed entry.
Unsurprising, Cale thought. As part of his Night Mask linguistic training back in Westgate, he had been tutored by a mage who had worshiped Deneir-a half-blind academic named Theevis who spoke as many languages as Cale had birthdays. From Theevis, he had learned that the faith of the Godscribe appealed mostly to scholars, not commoners.
A marble frieze ran along the top of the temple wall, inscribed with Deneir's praises in more scripts than even Cale could recognize. Two marble statues, each of an intense, elderly man poring over an open tome, flanked the closed double doors. Above the doors, a phrase had been inscribed in the common tongue-To Preserve Knowledge is to Serve Men and Gods. Brelgin jogged up the stairs, pushed open the double doors, and walked through. Cale followed. 'Erevia Cale had been in only two temples in his life, and both of those had been furnished with pews, an offering box, a raised pulpit, and an altar. As far as he could see, Deneir's temple had none of those. The place looked more of a library than a worship hall. Desks and worn tables filled the carpeted room, each covered in papers, scrolls, inkpots, and open tomes. Tall shelves filled with books stood along the back wall. Chandeliers and three blazing hearths provided heat and light by which to study. The place smelled of ink, leather, and allorath leaf, an herbal paper preservative used by scribes and sages.
Of the handful of faithful who sat at the desks and studied lost lore, none so much as glanced up when Cale and Brelgin entered.
A tonsured acolyte in a black and white diagonally striped cloak cleared his throat and smiled at them from his table just inside the doors.
'Do you require a table, sirs?' he softly asked. 'No, thank you,' Brelgin replied in equally soft tones. 'We're actually here to meet someone.' He gave the acolyte a smile and they walked past.
As they navigated the maze of tables and readers, Cale quietly stated, 'This isn't like any temple I've ever seen.'
Brelgin harrumphed as though he found it surprising that Gale had seen the inside of any temples at all.
'This isn't the worship hall, Gale. This is only the lending library. The Deneirrath grant anyone access to these writings and charge only what the borrower can afford.'
Gale nodded appreciatively. If times had been different, he could have enjoyed himself greatly here. It reminded him of Thamalon's library in Stormweather.
He followed Brelgin across the library floor to the rows of tall shelves that lined the back of the room. There, they found seated at a desk a middle-aged priestess clad in a turquoise robe. She pored over an ancient book, muttering to herself as she read, and occasionally wrote furiously on a separate piece of parchment. Gale and Brelgin stood before her for a few moments before she finally noticed them and looked up.
A striking woman with short blonde hair, a strong mouth, and crows' feet around her intelligent eyes, she took them in and raised her eyebrows in question. Before she could speak, Brelgin bowed slightly, indicated Gale, and said in a whisper, 'Priest Librarian Elaena, this is Erevis Gale.'
She set down her writing quill, rose with austere dignity, and nodded solemnly at Gale. 'Well met, Mister Gale.'
'Priestess.''
'Priest, Mister Gale. Our titles are the same, irrespective of gender.'
Gale bowed. 'Of course.'
Brelgin continued, 'Forgive the intrusion during your study hours, Priest Librarian, but Mister Gale wishes to see Jak Fleet. He's…' Brelgin cast a sidelong glance at Gate, 'a friend.'
Surprised by Brelgin's acknowledgment and soft tone, Gale gave him a grateful nod.
Priest Librarian Elaena smiled and looked right through Gale. 'Of course he is.' She covered the inkpot she had been using, marked her place in her tome with a flat, silver rod, and started to walk off. 'Follow me, gentlemen, we've moved him to a room usually used for transient brethren traveling through the city and staying for only a short while.' Gale and Brelgin followed.
Walking with a deliberateness that wasn't quite grace, the priest librarian led them through a confusing maze of narrow, candlelit corridors and rooms. Books, scrolls, and tapestries abounded. The place seemed near to bursting with the written word. Gale would have loved to stop and look, but couldn't for worry for his friend.
Elaena took them down a flight of spiral stairs until they reached what Gale took to be the residence hall of the temple. She walked to one of the paneled doors that lined the hall at intervals and knocked softly. After a moment, another tonsured acolyte opened the door and stuck his head out.
'Greetings, Aret,' the priest librarian said. 'Only knowledge is lasting.'
'Greetings, Priest Librarian,' the acolyte responded. 'Only learning is worthwhile.'
Apparently satisfied with the acolyte's ritual response, the priest librarian indicated Gale and Brelgin. 'They have come to see Mr. Fleet.'
Aret the acolyte, a slightly overweight young man with a soft face and softer eyes, nodded and stepped out of the room. 'I'm afraid there hasn't been much change,' he said to Brelgin.
The Harper leader nodded solemnly but otherwise made no reply.
'Well leave you alone,' announced the priest librarian. 'Stay as long as you like. Come with me, Aret.'
With that, the priest turned and walked back down the hall, Aret in tow. Apprehensive, Gale walked into the room. Brelgin followed and closed foe door behind them.
Covered in sweat-soaked sheets, Jak lay unconscious on a plain wooden bed and straw-filled mattress. Gale took a deep breath and approached the bed slowly. The little man's ashen face looked drawn and thin. The Deneirrath must have been force feeding him bread and water, but little more. He looked to have lost considerable weight. His red hair lay pasted by sweat against his scalp and his breathing came in irregular, ragged heaves. The little man's plight reminded Gale so much of Thazienne lying stricken in her bed at Stormweather that he had to steady himself with the headboard to avoid falling down.
'What happened to him?' Gale asked, though he already suspected the answer.
Brelgin stood beside him and looked down on the bed. 'He stumbled into the safehouse a tenday ago, incoherent, babbling about the night with yellow eyes. Then he fell unconscious. He's been like this ever since. The priest librarian says his body is whole. It's his soul that's wounded. They haven't been able to do anything for him.'
Gale heard the genuine concern for Jak in Brelgin's commanding voice. The tall Harper leader cared for the little man. He also heard in Brelgin's description confirmation of his theory. Jak had been attacked by the demon, too.
The night with yellow eyes, Brelgin,' Gale observed. 'A wounded soul. That can only be the shadow demon. I've seen it. It has yellow eyes and it feeds on human souls.' He banished the image of those hate-filled, ochre orbs and turned to face the Harper leader. Gale tried to keep the self-righteousness out of his voice. 'Looks like the demon is a Harper problem after all.'
Brelgin looked taken aback at that. His gaze went back and forth from Jak to Gale, his face flushed red. Abashed, he fumbled with an explanation.
'If'snot that I don't want to help you, Gale. Really. I would if I could.' His voice lowered to an intense whisper and he unconsciously made helpless gestures with his hands. 'But I've got only a handful of agents in the city.' He nodded knowingly when Gale shook his head and began to protest. 'I know what the rumors say, Gale. I helped spread most of them. We need our rivals to think our numbers large, but the truth is I've got less than ten operators at my disposal.' He shook his head as though inwardly reaffirming his decision. 'I just can't risk them hunting a demon. This city has too many other problems.'
Gale considered that. He stared at Brelgin thoughtfully, took a new measure of the man who just had taken such a great risk by offering sensitive information to an outsider. 'I understand,' Gale said after a moment, and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. 'We all do what we have to.'
Brelgin nodded but said nothing.
Ill do it alone, then, Gale thought, and tried to ignore the nervous flutter that churned his stomach. He only now realized how much he had been counting on Jak's assistance, and company. I would have welcomed your
