Shadowstorm by Kemp Paul S Page B

divinity,” Rivalen said. “Sometimes it is communicated through an intermediary— another priest of the faith.”
    Tamlin felt Rivalen’s eyes on him but did not return the Prince’s gaze. He understood what Rivalen seemed to be offering and was tempted by it.
    “You have not even told me the name of the goddess you worship.”
    “True,” Rivalen said. He paused for a time, then said, “I have given you cause to trust me, have I not?”
    The question surprised Tamlin. “You have. Of course.”
    “I feel there is even a friendship between us. Or at least a burgeoning friendship. Am I mistaken?”
    Tamlin shook his head. “You are not, and your words please me. I feel the same.”
    The shadows around Rivalen swirled. “My Lord Hulorn, you know very little about me and I fear an ill-timed admission about my faith may put a wedge between us. My faith is … poorly understood.”
    Tamlin thought of Erevis Cale, of his surprising admission to Tamlin that he worshiped Mask, the god of thieves and shadows. Rivalen’s admission could be no worse. He said, “I bring few preconceptions in matters of faith.”
    Rivalen reined his horse and studied Tamlin’s face. Tamlin reined his mount and bore the Prince’s gaze.
    Finally, Rivalen said, “Then I shall share something with you that I share with only a few outside my people. A secret, if you will.”
    “I will keep it in confidence,” Tamlin said, pleased that Rivalen would trust him so.
    Rivalen nodded, sighed. “Over my two thousand years I have learned that pain and loss are common to all men in all times. Not all men experience love or know joy, but all men know pain and loss. All men know fear. And in the end, all men know the emptiness of the void.”
    “That is so,” acknowledged Tamlin slowly, though he was not sure he understood completely.
    Rivalen stared into his eyes. “That realization led me to Shar, Hulorn. I worship the Lady of Loss.”
    For a moment Tamlin thought Rivalen must have been making a jest, but he saw from the Prince’s solemn expression that the words were truth.
    “Shar?” he asked, startled. The single word was all he could manage.
    Rivalen nodded and said nothing. The shadows turned slow spirals around his flesh.
    “Shar. But I have heard …” Tamlin started to say, but stopped. “Shar is…”
    He shook his head and looked away. He could find no words that would not offend the Prince.
    Rivalen said, “As I said, my faith is poorly understood. Dark rumors abound but they are mostly born of ignorance. Shar does not cause pain and loss. She simply embraces their existence, and teaches her true faithful to do the same as part
    of the cycle of life and death. There is peace in that, Hulorn. And power.”
    Tamlin looked up at that. Rivalen stared back at him, unreadable.
    “You know me, Hulorn, know me well. I assure you that any distasteful deeds done in Shar s name have been caused by those who call themselves her faithful but who little understand her teachings. I am doing what I can to put an end to their error.”
    Tamlin nodded, his mind still swimming.
    “Does this change anything between us?” Rivalen asked.
    Tamlin thought of his father, of Mister Cale. “I must ask you something, Prince.”
    Rivalen’s face was a mask. “Ask.”
    “Where is Mister Cale?”
    The shadows around Rivalen swirled, but his expression did not change.
    “Erevis Cale retrieved his comrade and left Sakkors. I do not know where he is now.”
    Tamlin studied Rivalen’s face, seeking a lie. He saw nothing and decided against asking more. Mister Cale had chosen his course, and one confession from Rivalen was enough for the evening.
    Tamlin said, “Nothing is changed between us. We remain … friends.”
    Rivalen studied his face, nodded. “I am pleased to hear those words.” He paused, said, “Hulorn, Erevis Cale was wrong about us. About me. You may trust me.”
    I must, Tamlin thought but did not say. Instead, he said, “Erevis Cale