Kelryn smiled, knowing that his lieutenant clearly understood his wishes and his intentions.
Thilt stalked down the aisle of the temple. Rows of golden columns rose from the floor to either side of the man, pillars that were lost in the heights where, so far above, arched the marble ceiling. Two acolytes-dressed, like the warden, in golden kilts and chain-mail jerkins-pulled open the huge silver doors and barked commands. Standing to the side of the entry, Thilt called out numbers, and one by one the recruits to the Temple of Fistandantilus dropped to their knees and began to crawl toward Kelryn.
The high priest, for his part, leaned back in his seat and watched as the file crept forward. A nice lot, he thought, counting a dozen men and a few women. They would swell the ranks of his congregation nicely, adding still further to the influence of the sect of Fistandantilus in the Seeker-ruled city of Haven.
The first supplicant was a man, and even though the fellow knelt at his feet, Kelryn could see that he was a strapping specimen, broad-shouldered and sturdy. When the man raised his face, the high priest saw that a jagged scar, crimson and angry, slashed down the side of his face, giving him a perpetually menacing scowl.
Finally Kelryn rose, standing before the kneeling supplicant. The priest lifted the golden chain from around his neck, allowing the crimson-speckled bloodstone to dangle before the man's eyes. His eyes lit with hunger at the sight of the gem, fixing in an unblinking stare as the gold-framed jewel slowly swung back and forth a few inches from his face.
'Do you swear by the new god Fistandantilus to offer yourself to his temple, body and soul and mind? Swear you to follow the dictates of his faith and to unfailingly obey the commands of his appointed servants? And do you accept me, Kelryn Darewind, as high priest of his faith, and will you follow my orders as the very words of your god himself?'
Kelryn intoned the ritual oath in the singsong cadence that had become so familiar to him over the last few decades. He had created the rote phrases himself-it had been one of the first things he had done, once he decided to install himself in this city of theocrats-and he was quite proud of the questions and the wording.
'Master, I so swear!' pledged the scarred man.
'By the power of the dark robe, I commend you into our ranks,' declared Kelryn, placing a hand on the man's shoulder, smiling thinly as the supplicant's face was suffused by a glow of inner happiness.
'Now, rise. Take yourself through the door of red. You will serve our god in the ranks of the Faithguards.'
'Thank you, Master. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!' cried the recruit. He stood, and Kelryn thought for a distasteful moment that the fellow actually intended to embrace him. Perhaps the expression on the high priest's face was enough of a deterrent, for the supplicant merely stammered something, bowed, and started for the indicated door, one of three exits on the side of the chapel.
'In the Sect of the Dark Robe, we show our gratitude through our actions, through faithful service to the church!' Kelryn snapped as the man made his way to the red door. The high priest hoped his stern words would forestall any other such displays from the remaining supplicants.
The ceremony continued, with the next few men also being sent into the ranks of the Faithguards. These recruits swelled the number of Kelryn's private army to more than one hundred strong, dedicated and ruthless fighters all. The Faithguards were charged with the protection of church property, property that was increasing in extent and value on an almost daily basis. The armed acolytes also served to discourage the efforts of nearby sects that seemed to present too much of a threat to the cult of the black robe. More than one temple in this district had been mysteriously burned, its faithful priests found strangled, flayed, or charred in the ruins.
Several of the supplicants were young men, too slight or benign to serve in the Faithguards. These were assigned to temple duties, cleaning and other servant tasks. One would becofhe the high priest's house servant, replacing a lad that Kelryn had been forced to torture and kill only the previous week, when that youth had fancied himself a manly lover and had dared to visit the quarters of the temple maidens.
Even now Kelryn scowled at the memory of the lad's insolent disobedience. Everyone in the church knew that those sanctified quarters were reserved for the maidens only, except for Kelryn Darewind himself. The priest made a mental note: He would have to warn the new recruits about the restrictions, since he wanted very much to avoid a similar infraction. Indeed, he had rather liked the previous boy, so much so that the high priest had actually required the aid of a burly Faithguard before Kelryn had been able to muster the resolve to gouge out the lad's second eye.
The last three of the supplicants were female. The first, a toothless hag who leered up at the priest with an expression of fawning adoration, was assigned to the sweepers; she would join a group who maintained the temple grounds and the high priest's mansion, insuring that the Sect of the Black Robe presented a gleaming and impeccable facade to this city of so many and varied temples. The second was a younger woman whose large, beaklike nose gave her a rather homely appearance; she was assigned to the Faithguards, and Kelryn knew that the men would make good use of her. No doubt within a few years, if she lasted that long, she would come to resemble the hag he had just assigned to the sweepers.
The final supplicant-positioned at the end of the line by Warden Thilt, who knew his master's tastes-was a young woman of unblemished skin, golden hair, and clear blue eyes. He had her maintain her kneeling posture for a little longer than was necessary and took great pleasure in her smooth voice as she stared into the depths of the bloodstone and reverently chanted the vows.
'You are assigned to the Temple Maidens,' Kelryn declared, his voice already thickening with desire. 'Pass through the white door. You will find a garden there, wine and fruit as well. Sample the food and drink as you wish. Then remove your robe and wait for me.'
'Yes, Master,' she intoned, and the high priest pulled away the bloodstone so those blue eyes would rise to regard him. He nearly fell into them, so pure was their color and so willing, so devoted, their expression.
This one really was a beauty, he thought, and he made a private vow that he would take his time with her. Too many times in recent years he had found a treasure like this, only to ruin her with his uncontrolled passion on their first encounter. Afterward, such tarnished beauties were useful only to the Faithguards. Sometimes, in fact, an unfortunate girl had been so frightened and disillusioned by her first encounter with the high priest that he had been forced to sacrifice her in the temple dungeons. Not that such executions were not without their own form of pleasure, but Kelryn Darewind was a pragmatic man and knew that his recruits were always more useful to him alive then dead.
Yes, he repeated silently, I will be patient with this one, that she may please me for a long time to come.
The woman walked to the white door, and Kelryn stared hungrily, watching the smooth curves of her body shifting gracefully beneath the gauzy cotton of her robe. He thought momentarily of dispensing with the rest of the day's business, but quickly he discarded that notion. He could be patient, and there were important matters of the church that needed his attention.
He flopped back into his chair, reflecting that it had not always been so. Had it actually been fifty years ago that he first arrived in this rich, lively, and utterly corrupt city? Kelryn knew it had, though none who saw him would have guessed his age to be much more than three decades. Indeed, he knew he looked very much the same as he did when he had ridden out of Tarsis so many years ago.
Now, however, when he thought back to those days, it seemed that he was recalling an experience from a different life. His hand closed around the stone that pulsed within his fingers, and he knew he owed a great transformation in his own life to his chance encounter with the dwarf, now a half century dead, on the Pax Tharkas road.
Except that he did not believe, had not even believed then, that it was really a chance encounter. It was the stone-or, more accurately, the spirit that throbbed within the stone-that had brought Cantor Blacksword into his path, that had summoned Kelryn up the steep gully to the Theiwar's smoldering fire.
The bloodstone had known that the raving dwarf had served his purpose. A pariah to his own kind, terrified and suspicious of everyone else, Cantor had been unable to carry the powerful artifact into the centers of life and vitality that it craved. Kelryn Darewind, on the other hand, with his easy social grace, his handsome smile, and his flowing, charismatic speech, had been a much better choice.
When the man first held the stone, he had felt its compelling power; even more, he sensed that the artifact was appealing to him personally. Then, when he had replied, had offered his acquiescence-for a price-he understood that the gem had respected Kelryn's strength. The stone needed the man, and the man needed the stone. Together they had helped each other for many years.
