The Alabaster Staff by Edward Bolme

hope was to play her interloper’s role to the hilt and hope that it held up until the procession was out of sight of the whip.
    Much to Kehrsyn’s consternation, the assemblage kept pacing up the exact center of the broad street. She had no opportunity to slip away into a side street and vanish into the darkness. She hoped that none of the others would turn and notice her, question her presence, draw unwanted attention …
    She also began to wonder where they were going. “Blessed Madame” was a title reserved for priestesses, sothe woman heading the group was someone of importance … but from which temple? The temple of Gilgeam was as dead as its deity, populated only by a desperate, powerless few. The other deities of the Untheri pantheon, such as they were, had their temples in a different part of town, an old section filled with monolithic ziggurats built some three millennia past. She might be a priestess of Mystra or Ishtar, the deities worshiped by the Northern Wizards, but if so, Kehrsyn reckoned that she would head for the city center, where the heart of the de facto government was. What did that leave? Possibly Tempus. He was popular with the Chessentan mercenaries, common enough during time of war. She remembered that the church of Bane had been growing since the death of Gilgeam, and though she did not like Gilgeamites, she had grown up with them in power. She knew them. The Banites—they were rumored to follow the worst of all deities.
    Still the group kept to the center of the street, walking straight away from the guards’ dragnet. While Kehrsyn tried to figure out from which church the people hailed, she remained alert for the sound of approaching footsteps, guards come to question the priestess about her new follower.
    None came.
    Just as Kehrsyn was thinking she would soon be far enough away to escape the guards’ notice, the group turned to the right.
    Kehrsyn was caught by surprise, and her foot slid on the cobbles as she tried to turn, to stay with the others. Thankfully, she was to the left and rear of the group, else her stumble might have attracted the attention of one of the other members. She glanced up at the front of the building the group was heading toward.
    It was a solid stone building, fronting the street. Two broad stone steps led up to a large, wooden door. It had noalcove, gave no cover to someone trying to evade the notice of the guards. Atop the doorway, she saw the sign of the five-headed dragon.
    Kehrsyn’s heart stopped in her chest, clutching her breath and refusing to let it leave.
    The Five-Headed Dragon. Tiamat. The Chromatic Goddess. The Queen of the Dragons (or “Queen of the Evil Dragons” when her worshipers were not around).
    But, above all, the Slayer of Gilgeam.
    Tiamat’s followers were reputed to be among the most ruthless people in Faerûn. They sought to emulate dragonkind, and compensated for their lack of draconic anatomy with an excess of viciousness.
    Kehrsyn glanced back to the guards as casually as possible and saw that one of them was indeed still watching the group like an owl as they entered the front door of their small temple. Nothing for it, then. She had to enter; otherwise, the guards would be onto her. It was worth the risk. All she had to do was hide inside just long enough that the guards wouldn’t be looking when she left the temple. Or maybe she could slide away undetected and leave by a side route.
    She took a deep breath and stepped in just behind the rearmost of the believers, finding herself in a narthex that opened into a large common room. The others pulled off their winter cloaks and hung them on ornate wooden pegs carved in the shape of dragons’ heads. Kehrsyn tried to slow down to give the others plenty of time to leave her unattended, but one of the other worshipers, muttering curses against the bitter cold, ushered her in so he could close the door behind her.
    Of course, she couldn’t resist, lest her reticence draw