The Herald objected. “Give over, Silkhands. She has made a pillar of fire and I have made it dance. Together we have pulled no more power than you might use to heal a sparrow. Why should she not do something for her own amusement?”
“When has she ever done anything not for her own amusement?” the Healer countered. “We are sent here to sit like badgers upon an earth because Dazzle insisted upon amusement.”
When the Priestess turned toward her I saw again that matchless face, curled now into spiteful mockery, “You will not be content until you destroy me, Healer-maid. You are disloyal to me now as always, hating and jealous of my following.” The woman preened in the firelight, stretching like a cat in satisfied self-absorption.
“We will not be here long, only until Himaggery decides that he misses me, which he will, and sends word for me to return to the Bright Demesne. The Wizard will bring us back soon.”
“I have never been disloyal,” said the Healer in a low voice, full of strain. Though I could not see her face, I thought she was fighting tears. “But I would rather live where I can use my skills to heal. Here I can do nothing, nothing.”
I thought I would give her something to do as I turned from the slit window to approach them from below. I had gone only a pace or two before turning back in a fit of inspiration to strip off my white shirt and hang it within the window. The breeze moved it slightly there, pale in the firelight.
Once out of the ruin and on the plain below them, I put my hands to my mouth to make that echoing ghost call with which we boys had frightened each other in the attics of Mertyn’s House.
As I approached the tumulus the Herald rose above it to stand high upon the air. He called, “Who comes?” but I did not answer. I knew what he saw; black cloak, skull face, a Necromancer. I spread the cloak in a batwinged salute and called in the deepest voice I could make.
“One comes, Herald, bringing a message from a Wizard to one known as Silkhands, the Healer…”
There was a little fall of rubble as the Priestess and the Healer climbed onto the piled stone beneath him. I kept eyes unfocused, unseeing of that face, but still I could feel the pull of her eyes. Priests have that quality, and Kings, and Princes¾by some called “follow-me,” and by others “beguilement.” Dazzle had more of it than any I had seen, so I did not look her in the face. She called.
“Come, Necromancer, closer that we may hear this message you bring in comfort…”
“Nay, Godspeaker. Let her whom I have named come with me to hear the words of Himaggery.” The Healer struggled down the pile toward me. When she was close, I whispered, “You are to come with me, Healer, to do a thing the Wizard desires.” She followed me as I turned away, but the Priestess was not of a mind to let us go.
“Oh, come up to me, Necromancer, that I may judge whether this is a true message…”
Her voice was sweet, sweet as honey, a charm and an enchantment. Almost I turned before I thought. The three of them had no power of far-seeing among them, but the disguise would not stand close inspection, as Chance had well known. I would have to try the trick I had planned. I turned again toward her where she stood above me on the stones.
“My Master, who is your Master also, has warned me that you are not always quick to do his will. Therefore, he has suggested I take the time, if you are troublesome, to show you your dead…”
I gestured high, letting the sleeve fall away from my pale arm as I pointed at the far slit window behind them. Luck was with me. As they turned, the breeze caught my shirt and moved it as though something living or undead moved among the stones. Once again I gave the ghost call. The Priestess shuddered. I could see it from where I stood and knew then that she was one of those with reason to fear her dead. I led Silkhands away. From behind came a frantic call.