Hederick had performed this rite many times in his decades as a Seeker. So practiced were his actions that even now, with his pulse hammering, none of the sweet fluid dripped onto the altar cloth. The High Theocrat felt the hair prickle at the back of his neck. He carefully replaced the vase on the altar, then raised the chalice and quaffed the honey-colored beverage.

"To you, Great Ones, I offer my fealty," he murmured. "I greet another evening with hope and passion, and I beseech you to punish this sacrilege of your holy chamber … for something threatens the peace of this place." He quickly poured another glass of mead and downed that one, too.

As always with the potent beverage, Hederick's vision swirled, then snapped into focus. But unlike the other times, on this occasion he suddenly felt exposed and vul shy;nerable, so high above the floor of the Great Chamber. Vertigo assailed him, then faded away.

Because of Hederick's lack of physical stature, he'd derived peculiar joy in ordering the builders of the temple Erolydon to construct the holy altar and pulpit at the top of four narrow flights of stairs. Each sunset, when Heder shy;ick passed on the revelations of the New Gods, he spoke down-down, he rejoiced-to the hushed worshipers that

jammed the tiers of wooden benches. Special windows and mirrors allowed the blushing sunsets over Crystalmir Lake to pour into the room, bathing the priestly figure at the top of the chamber in glorious purples, pinks, and scarlets.

Then, as now, the pulpit gave him an unobstructed view of everything within the Great Chamber.

Hederick raised his head, gaze shifting around the cav shy;ernous amphitheater. There was no sign of an intruder, but he had the distinct feeling that somebody's eyes were upon him. Slowly the feeling grew, until he felt seared by what was happening, as if his skin was blistered and peel shy;ing away in charred strips. His free hand found its way back to his neck and again grasped the leather-swaddled dragon figurine.

Face me.

The unheard words filled Hederick. The priest felt his mind expand and contract dizzyingly. His body remained motionless, arrested in the act of lowering the sacred chal shy;ice to the altar. But in his mind, Hederick saw himself bleeding on the marble floor below, at the bottom of the vallenwood stairs. The broken Hederick of his imagina shy;tion lay naked to whatever torture the Presence that shared this chamber chose to inflict.

Face me.

"Unholy thing!" the religious leader shrieked. Tremors shook him. "Sorcery's bastard! Show yourself!"

I am Ancilla. Face me, dear one.

"You are dead!"

Alas, my little brother, you are mistaken.

Hederick shook a tightly clenched fist in the air and shouted again into the vast and seemingly empty cham shy;ber. "For decades I walked the roads of northern Ansa-lon, witch, spreading the word of the deliverance to come," he shouted. "I am-I was-the Holy Wanderer of the Seekers. Entire villages joined the Seekers upon my

inspiration. I worked miracles in the name of the New Gods!" His voice dropped to a piercing whisper. "Always you have followed me, dear sister. And never have you defeated me. Nor will you. I proved that this afternoon. You had never been stronger-but I was stronger still." Hederick placed the crystal chalice on the altar and shook his fist again. "This is my temple. You cannot hurt me here!"

There was no answer.

After a moment, Hederick's hands weakened and fell to his sides. He damply fingered the folds of his robe. The ache grew behind his eyes, and sweat trickled through his hair. His heart lurched.

I'm getting old, he thought suddenly. How many more years of this can I stand?

Accept me.

"Never! You are a demon, Ancilla."

Hederick found himself peering over the low railing that protected those at the altar from the sixty-foot drop to the floor. He saw movement in the depths below. Smoke rose through the solid marble floor of the Great Chamber. It clung to the stone, a purple-gray miasma of evil.

"Begone!" he boomed. Exultation grew in the High Theocrat. His was the voice that had ensnared more Seeker souls than any other priest over the decades. His was the name that countless followers breathed aloud rev shy;erently as they worshiped, believing him the soul of the new church. He had dispelled the witch in the courtyard; he could dispel her here. Hederick's forceful baritone voice shook with indignation. "Erolydon is a holy place! Leave it at once!"

The words echoed off the gleaming wooden walls. "Erolydon … Erolydon… holy… at once … once."

The echoes stopped, swallowed by the smoke.

You must accept me as part of you, if you hope to achieve what you wish.

The smoke thickened, roiling over the floor.

"You do not frighten me," Hederick lied, eyeing the four tiers of steps. Perhaps he could race down and leap through the smoke before Ancilla's Presence grew stronger. But he grimaced at the vision of himself bound shy;ing down the stairs to escape fog that he was quite sure no one else would be able to see. Dahos could enter at any moment. It wouldn't do to have the priest witness the highest Seeker in Solace leaping and running away from … nothing.

"You cannot stop me," he said. "You are the dying breath of the Old Gods. You are magic … and you fear me." He forced a laugh. "You fear me! I will end your gods' reign upon this world. I am Chosen. Few believe in the Ancient Ones. Now is the time of the New Gods. We grow stronger with every passing moment." Spittle leaped from Hederick's mouth as he spoke.

Hederick, you are old, and I… in this form, I am ageless. Welcome me. Turn away from these false gods.

The fog now covered the first two tiers of stairs. It deep shy;ened and grew more purple; streaks of black oozed through.

Hederick backpedaled to put the altar between him and the Presence. He once again drew out the Diamond Dragon.

The artifact is useless against me in this form, Hederick. Will you spend your few remaining years with your eyes still closed to the truth? Your lauded Seeker gods are only pathetic wishful thinking. Remember Venessi? Remember our mother's false god?

"I will lead all the Seekers!" the High Theocrat shouted. "And not just those in Solace! We will destroy all who fol shy;low the Ancient Ones. Only the fool Knights of Solamnia, a handful of mages, and a few deluded losers still believe in the Old Gods. Move aside for the new order. Admit your defeat!"

You cannot defeat such as I. You must accept me, love me as I love you, little brother. I came once to bring you to the true gods and you turned me away. Let me help you now.

Stair after stair gave way before the rising fog. Hederick detected flashes of lightning. He waved the Diamond Dragon at the smoke, but the artifact seemed to have lost its power.

Hederick's rich baritone was gone now, his mouth dry. He rallied, though his voice cracked. "Magic," he spat out. "The magic of the Old Gods wanes daily. Wizards have hidden themselves in covens and towers, they so fear the new Seeker order." Hederick felt a surge of religious fer shy;vor. "Magic is leaving Krynn! But call it by its true names, Ancilla: Witchcraft! Sorcery! Sin!"

You have but a short time left, Hederick. In this form, I have forever.

He heard a hiss, as though of fog dissolving. The smell of rotting meat filled his nostrils. The High Theocrat swal shy;lowed a mouthful of bile and closed his eyes. Hederick leaned back against the railing and held out the Diamond Dragon again. The altar cloth slipped unseen to his feet.

His voice still rang with bravado, but the fog deadened the words, stealing their edge. "I will end magic, end witchcraft, and Krynn shall praise only the New Gods. I have slain mages from Haven to Solace and beyond. My spies . . . The Old Gods have abandoned Krynn. Only fools refuse to abandon them in turn!"