still covered in dust from the road and feeling hunger pangs. Once she had given care of her horse over to the stable boy, she had paused only long enough to drink deeply from the well behind the temple, but she hadn’t eaten anything but a handful of dried fruit and some nuts since leaving Land’s End. Her order was mendicant and there was no dedicated shrine or temple in Land’s End, so she had survived on what she had purchased in Durbin with the last of her coin.
The moment she handed her documents to the Father-Bishop she knew something was wrong, something that had nothing to do with the message she had delivered to him. He waved her to sit in a chair opposite his desk and said, ‘The Grand Master has passed.’
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and made a short prayer to the Goddess to care for the old man on his way to Lims-Kragma’s domain. He had been a good man, almost saintly, and Sandreena had no doubt that he would be rewarded with a higher place on the Wheel of Life.
The Father-Bishop remained silent while she prayed; when she opened her eyes, she discovered him staring intently at her. ‘Father-Bishop?’
Creegan smiled; it was not a friendly or warm expression, but rather the smile of a man finding humour in a very dark place. ‘The end of life is not necessarily a cause for sorrow, daughter,’ he said using the address usually reserved for minor members of the order, clearly communicating the difference in their ranks. She was uncertain why he felt the need to emphasise it, but knew he did nothing without a reason. ‘The Grand Master served the Goddess well, for many years and has earned his final rest.
‘But the timing is…inconvenient.’ He stood and said, ‘I must leave at once for Rillanon, for the convocation is to be held only a week after the funeral, and the selection of the new High Priest is more critical than is usual.’
She knew he was referring to the matter of the demon host: the ‘Legion’ as it was called, was out there somewhere, threatening to bring its ravages upon this world. Few people within the temple, and even fewer outside, knew that the threat existed. Sandreena was aware of it only because of the confidence in which Father-Bishop Creegan held her. And fewer still knew of the relationship between the Father-Bishop and the Conclave of Shadows led by the magician Pug.
She merely nodded her head and said, ‘I understand.’
‘I know you do, Sandreena.’ He rose from the desk, and sat on the corner, looking down at her. ‘I have never told you, but there is a beauty to you that few notice.’
She was a little startled by the statement. There had always been an underlying tension between them, she found him a very attractive and powerful man, but his reputation as something of a womanizer, and their respective ranks, had always kept any inappropriate behaviour in check.
He held up his hand before she could speak. ‘I don’t mean your physical beauty—as impressive as it is when you choose to let others glimpse it—but rather a beauty of strength and purpose, what you’ve overcome and managed to achieve despite a desperately difficult beginning. It is most admirable.’ He stood up and moved to the window. Looking out, he said, ‘We may get more rain.’ The rain along the coast had made her trip even more difficult, so she hoped he was wrong.
‘I am leaving you in charge of the Order while I’m away.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Me?’
‘I’ll send Father-Bishop Bellamy back, to assume my duties, but in the interim, you will take my place here.’
‘Take your place?’
Creegan shrugged as if it were of no importance, but said, ‘I will be the new Grand Master.’ The way he said it, she realized it was a fait accompli. He glanced over and smiled. ‘It was decided long ago. So, I will dispatch Bellamy as soon as the convocation is over, and you will then return to your duties, to do whatever he asks, for he will be speaking for me. Until then, you must take charge here.’
‘Why me?’ she asked softly.
‘You are the only one I trust, Sandreena.’ He came back and sat behind the desk. ‘Only a few know of what is really goingon out there. I’ll leave you a list of names; do not trust anyone who is not on it. You’ve also earned the honour. Almost getting yourself killed isn’t ideal, but you kept your wits about you when you realized the enormity of the political reality that has swept you up without warning.
‘Few members of the Order would have coped so well with demons and secret alliances.’
‘The High Priestess?’ she asked.
Creegan smiled. ‘She’ll object, of course, but as she has no standing within the Order, I’ll smile, nod, and suggest that she should pack if she’s to leave with me on the ride to Salador.’
Sandreena nodded. The High Priestess Seldon had ambitions of her own and would be actively seeking a nomination to the office of High Priestess of the Grand Temple once the convocation began.
Creegan said, ‘I suspect she’ll dismiss you quickly and begin the endless flattery I will be subjected to on the journey.’
Sandreena couldn’t help but smile. The High Priestess might be pleased to see Creegan leaving Krondor—their relationship had always held a contentious element—but his elevation to the highest calling in the Order, would make him an even more important voice in the temple, and he would have a great deal of influence over the succession when the current High Priestess stepped down.
‘You’ll only need to make one quick courtesy call, which I suggest you do now, before I let her know of your promotion.’
‘Promotion?’
‘Of course. I can’t leave a Knight-Adamant in charge of the Order in the Western Realm. Effective immediately, you are now a Sergeant-Adamant of the Order, but will bear the office rank of Adiuvare. It’s an old title we rarely use, but it’s still recognized. So your official title will be Adiuvare-Sergeant-Adamant. Once Bellamy arrives, you will become just another Sergeant.’
She tried not to smile. ‘Just another Sergeant,’ he said. As a rule, Knight-Adamants had to serve for twenty years to obtain the rank of Sergeant and few lived long enough. She was certain she not only was the youngest Sergeant in the Order, but perhaps in the history of the Order.
‘I will do my best not to disappoint you, Father-Bishop.’
‘If I thought there was even a remote possibility of that, I would have given the job to someone else,’ said Creegan. ‘Now, go make your call on the High Priestess, get something to eat, and rest. I think you’ll discover the post is not as easy as you think.’ He motioned to the pile of papers and said, ‘More men have been defeated by reports than all the steel throughout history.’ Then he made a dismissive gesture and she rose, bowed slightly, and left his quarters.
Under normal circumstances, she would have been elated by the promotion, for it would have been a signal that the Goddess had found her service worthy. In this particular circumstance it felt not like a gift, or reward, but a heavy burden. Then she chided herself: if an even bigger burden had been placed on her, it simply meant that the Goddess deemed her able to meet the demands of office.
Still, she thought as her stomach growled, she wished she could get something to eat before visiting the High Priestess.
Sandreena made her call on the High Priestess, who was, as Creegan predicted, distracted by her preparations to leave the next day for the arduous ride to the port of Salador where she and Creegan would take ship to Rillanon to attend the convocation to elect the new Grand Master of the Order of the Shield of the Weak. The High Priestess had no official duties regarding the Order, but as every prelate of rank would be in attendance while they conducted their ceremonies and elected Creegan, everyone else would be playing temple politics. Sandreena was glad that she was to remain behind, even if she had been handed responsibility for the Order in Krondor, which involved supervising the Order in the entire Western Realm of the Kingdom of the Isles.
After she had finally eaten, Sandreena returned to the common barracks of the order and gave her dirty tabard