The Alabaster Staff by Edward Bolme Page A

attention, so she found herself thrust in the midst of the group, all happily divesting themselves of their garb and heading into the next room for the roaring fire that burned in a fire pit surrounded by gigantic dragons’ fangs.
    “Sheesh,” said the man behind her, “you need a new cloak. Here, lemme get that.”
    Kehrsyn felt his hands starting to pull her cloak off, pulling away the veil of her anonymity. Powerless, Kehrsyn tried to steel herself. Much as she didn’t want to be ejected from the walls of Messemprar again, she readied herself to lunge out the front door. It was closed by a modern lever. She could flip the latch and hit the door at full speed.
    The concealing darkness of her cloak pulled away from her head and shoulders, spilling light over her dank hair and hesitant eyes. The man stepped past her with her cloak and hung it on a peg, wiping the condensation from his beard with his hand.
    Near the fire, one of the other worshipers, who was just sitting down, shot back to his feet, pointing aggressively at Kehrsyn.
    “Who are you?” he bellowed.
    “Look out!”
    “She’s got a sword!”
    “Horat, watch it!”
    The pace of events was far too quick for a scared, tired, wounded, hungry, cold young woman, and within a few heartbeats Kehrsyn found herself with her back to the door, one hand on the latch, surrounded by several fierce-looking men and women. Someone had a strong grip on her collar. Another had a long dagger held up menacingly. Harsh words washed over her like a wave.
    “What are you doing here?”
    “Just kill her!”
    “Who are you? Speak!”
    “Who sent you?”
    “Shut up!”
    “Search her!”
    The press of bodies caused her left triceps to flare in pain as it was pressed between her body and the door.Behind her back, Kehrsyn’s left hand tightened on the latch, ready to shove it down and spill into the street. She prayed for a distraction, just one instant, and she’d make a break for it. The moment came, rather quickly.
    “Quiet!” a woman’s imperious voice rang in the building like a bell. It was a voice that was used to authority and a throat that was used to being loud.
    The argument immediately ceased, and the people parted for the priestess to approach. It was the break Kehrsyn had been hoping for, but something in the priestess’s voice impelled Kehrsyn to be still as well.
    The woman was tall, with a broad build that spoke of physical strength and a jowly neck that spoke of rich foods. She wore a lush, blood-red robe embroidered in emerald, sapphire, sable, and ermine. The robe hid all but the more massive features of her body. In a few years, Kehrsyn surmised, it might hide nothing at all.
    The matronly woman moved in, standing very close. Her face bore a nasty, puckered scar, shaped like a five-pointed star. It reached from chin to forehead and almost ear to ear. Her looming shadow seemed to cover Kehrsyn like the scar covered her face, and she glared down with rich blue eyes that, though fierce at the moment, seemed fundamentally warm, not cold.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked. Her tone left no room for any other option than a direct answer.
    “I was curious about joining your church,” said Kehrsyn.
    The woman leaned closer. Either that, or she grew by another two inches.
    “Are you lying to me?” she demanded.
    Kehrsyn considered her options, not moving save only to blink. “Yes,” she said.
    The woman leaned back, regarding Kehrsyn anew, and said, “I’m glad to see that you’ve stopped.”
    Kehrsyn, not knowing what else to do, waited.
    “Why are you afraid of us?” the woman asked.
    “What do you mean?” asked Kehrsyn, who was certain she didn’t want to try another brave lie.
    “I can see it in your eyes. You fear us. Yet Tiamat slew Gilgeam.”
    “And Gilgeam’s death brought on this war. So because of Tiamat, we’re all crowded in here hoping not to be overrun before we starve to death.”
    “An unfortunate and unforeseen