Children of Chaos

'As you also—' A blaze of pain made Frena drop her voice. 'As you also have need of me? Suddenly everyone is trying to use me. Stralg wants me; you want to balk Stralg. What are you offering? Will you rescue me from this situation?'

The slender woman shrugged. 'Witnesses observe, record, and never meddle. Besides, to expose our petty resistance efforts to Saltaja at this time would be most unwise.'

Frena thought, Ha! 'Well, you say I am not Horth Wigson's natural daughter, but I have not lived with him all my life without learning to shun an exchange that only works one way. If you want my cooperation, you must offer something in return. No matter how strategic this city you mention, being queen of it would hardly compensate me for being married to an animal. These Florengian aristocrats you cite apparently gave me away as a baby, whereas Horth and Paola were everything a child could ask for in loving, caring parents. I do know that the lady Saltaja has a dubious reputation, but I always find her to be a cultivated, knowledgeable lady.' So there!

'You fear her without knowing why. Can I bribe you with hopes of revenge? Saltaja had Paola Apicella murdered.'

'What!' Frena stumbled to a halt, grabbed the rail with both hands, and peered blearily at the Witness. 'Did you say—'

'I did. I would testify in court before a Speaker that Saltaja Hragsdor sent a flank of Werists after your foster mother with orders to beat her to death and leave the body on Wigson's doorstep. She is not a very subtle person.'

'No!' Deliberate murder seemed even worse than the random violence of a gang of drunks. 'Why would she do such a thing?'

'Regarding motives, I can only speculate. She certainly suspected your foster mother of causing the death of her brother, Karvak. She may have worried that Paola would initiate you into the ranks of the Chosen. Saltaja was convinced that Paola was a chthonian.'

They were standing very close to the top of the stair now, but whatever lay ahead was hidden behind a fence; the path made a right-angle turn through a gate. A jabber of young boys came yelling and screaming out and plunged down the steps in a human avalanche. The yard was far below, all the waiting chariots small as children's toys.

Shivering despite the heat, Frena asked the obvious question. 'And was she?'

The seer seemed to word her answer carefully. 'Fabia, our goddess does not let us pry into other divinities' mysteries. Satrap Eide is obviously a Werist, because he wears the collar and also has vestigial horns, but Weru has other cults you've never heard of. If a woman wears a live fireasp as a necklace, she is undoubtedly a Nastrarian. Did you know that Ucr, your father's god, also supports a cult of thieves?'

'No! Truly?'

'Membership in the Chosen cannot be detected, no matter what the witch-hunters say.'

'Mother never came here, to the Pantheon,' Frena admitted.

'Apicella may have just disliked hypocrisy. She could have come, I am sure. Gods tend to be jealous of their votaries, but if the Dark One kept Her Chosen from visiting other temples, they would soon all be unmasked and destroyed. There is no perfect test!' The Witness turned, as if looking at something, although the heavy cloth over her head and face must be completely opaque, as it showed nothing of her features, only sweat stains.

'She was not an evil person!'

'I never said she was. I know no unassailable definition of evil. The Old One is greatly feared as keeper of the dead, but we all go to Her in the end. That some of Her minions may be evil I do not deny; that some may not be is a tenable hypothesis. And Saltaja did have evidence—the strange circumstances of her brother's death, Paola's success at escaping and remaining undetected for years, her coup in marrying a man of wealth who could protect her. Even, although this came after the fact, the remarkable toll she took of her assassins and the long time she took to die. One aging, unarmed woman beset by a gang of young louts and she kills even two of them? Is this probable?'

'You are manipulating again!' Although she wanted to shout, Frena managed only a croak. 'You tell me that the Chosen are not evil and they have powers to overcome even Werists? Are you suggesting I swear allegiance to the Mother of Lies instead of the Bright Ones?' That was the real question, wasn't it?

'I am suggesting no such thing. The decision is entirely yours. I detect that you are suffering extreme physical distress, possibly a headache. This may be no more than a result of eating bad meat, although I regard that hypothesis as improbable. The most likely alternative, although there may be other explanations that I have not thought of, is that you are already promised to a specific god. This puts you in conflict with your purpose in coming to the house of the Twelve, and the conflict will have to be resolved. A dedication is a form of choosing.'

'You're suggesting that I belong to the Dark One,' Frena whispered, visualizing open graves.

'She is certainly the most likely candidate.'

'But I never pledged allegiance to Her!' Frena wiped away the perspiration running into her eyes.

'Infants can be pledged by others, especially their parents or those in charge of them. For instance, foster mothers.' The seer sounded very much as if she were fishing for information. She would be disappointed. 'The allegiance must be ratified in adulthood. This is why the dedication ritual requires you to renounce all other gods in general and the Old One by name.'

'Then I will be free of Her?'

'So the priests assure us. If you wish to try doing so here and now, just saying the words may reduce your stress to more tolerable levels. Alternatively, if you intend to pledge full loyalty to Her, then a declaration of that intent would probably be equally beneficial to your present comfort. I suspect that it is your undecided status that is causing theproblem. As I have said several times, there is no way of detecting the Chosen—a chthonian could speak the words of the renunciation without flickering an eyelash.' The seer looked away as if hearing something Fabia couldn't. 'We have been together too long. Twelve times twelve blessings on you—'

'Wait! Just suppose I did decide to ... to investigate the alternative. How would I proceed?'

The seer stood in silence for a long moment, a cloud of draperies. 'I suggest you question your foster father's