Carried away by his own rhetoric, Hederick opened his eyes. Purple and black smoke boiled around him, extend shy;ing to the rafters. Hederick smelled death. His spine con shy;vulsed. He pitched forward.

Crouching unsteadily at the base of the altar, Hederick screamed, "What are you? What evil do you hide?" He scrabbled to the railing, grasped it with a pudgy hand, and hauled himself to his feet. "I will fight you! I am the Seekers! Show yourself!"

The fog wavered for a heartbeat. Something like a sigh sounded. Then the smoke thinned. One hand on the rail and one on the altar, Hederick stood, bracing himself, and looked downward where he could make out what might have been the silhouette of a woman-or an ogre-or a lizard. It hung in the air, standing on nothing, suspended over the open expanse of the Great Chamber. Clots of fog and smoke obscured its true form. It took a step toward him and seemed to beckon.

Ah, Hederick. Face me, my brother.

Hederick's nails carved half-moons in the wood. The scent of magic was everywhere. He sank back into the dimness under the altar.

"No!" he screamed. "Go back!" Sobbing like a child, Hederick buried his face in the crumpled altar cloth. "I don't want to look. Go away. Go away, please. I'll be good, I promise." He waited, shaking. "Please?"

He waited a bit longer, then lifted his head. The foul odors were gone. Gouges from his fingernails marred the red-gold vallenwood railing. The altar cloth was tear-stained and ruined. But the fog had vanished.

Hederick heard a voice, quite an ordinary one.

"Your Worship?" A slender woman, light hair braided into a coronet, stood in shadow at the bottom of the steps. She held a basket topped by a pink cloth. Shakily, Heder shy;ick rose and, gripping the railing, staggered down the steps toward her.

Had the woman witnessed his humiliation?

From a distance, she had appeared young. But as Hed shy;erick drew nearer, he could see that the hair was white, not blond. The face was wrinkled.

"Did you see anything?" he demanded.

"Your Worship?" The old woman gazed up at him in awe. Her words tripped over themselves. "I come now with a gift for the priests. I seen you tending something under the altar, and I waited until I think you was done,

on the off-chance you was doin' something religious. Your Worship." She nodded rapidly, twice.

Hederick, standing on the landing, inspected the hag. She was just like the multitude of other peasant converts who had been drawn to the Seeker religion for comfort in the troubled years since the Cataclysm. They came in droves but brought little money.

"What is your name, old woman?" he demanded. "How did you get in here?" He suddenly realized that the sun was about to set. Soon the crowds would converge upon the Great Chamber for the nightly revelations.

"Norah, Your Worship." She smiled tentatively at him and ventured stiffly up the stairs, still holding out the bas shy;ket. She favored one knee, and her knuckles were swollen. "Your man, the high priest, said as it was all right for me to come in here. He said you was probably near done with your religious duties. So I come in here to wait."

"And you saw nothing?" Hederick pressed. "Heard nothing?"

Norah looked around in bewilderment. "Are you all right, Your Worship? Can I help you?" She came closer, hand outstretched, until she stood two steps below him.

Hederick hesitated. Sympathy glowed in the old wom shy;an's bright blue eyes. For a fearful moment, he wanted nothing more than to lay his head on her shoulder. Once again his hands shook, and he hid them in his robe.

Norah continued to reach a knobby hand toward the High Theocrat. "You look awful, Your Worship, if you don't mind my sayin'. I could make up an herb charm for you, a tea or poultice, say a few special words over't. My mother used to make 'em, and my grandmam afore her. It'll fix you right up, sure." She smiled reassuringly. "A bit of harmless family magic, y'see." Her hand picked at his sleeve.

"Magic! Witch!" Hederick cried out, recoiling. "You are Ancilla! You are the witch in mortal form."

"Ancilla?" Bewilderment crossed the woman's features. "Who? But I told you, m'name is…"

The flat of Hederick's hand struck the side of Norah's startled face. Her basket soared over the stair railing. A dish shattered. She pitched backward and careened head shy;long down a flight of stairs to the temple floor. There were a few groans, a luckless attempt to rise, then… nothing.

Hederick waited on the stairs.

The double doors banged open under the pulpit. Dahos hurried into the room and stopped short. Two temple guards, arrayed in their ceremonial blue and gold, fol shy;lowed. "What has happened?" the high priest asked, alarmed. "Your Worship, you are harmed?"

"No, Dahos," Hederick said.

The tall priest knelt over the crumpled figure. Large hands moved deftly. Dahos loosened the woman's cloth shy;ing and chafed her hands. He gently tapped her face, then bent close to see if she still breathed. Finally he sat back and sighed. Blood stained his face and robe. "She is dead." Dahos bowed his head and began the Prayer of the Passing Spirit. "Great Omalthea, accept the commitment of this guiltless soul…"

"Stop," Hederick snapped. "The hag was evil. She deserves no final blessing."

Dahos's head shot up. "Your Worship?"

Hederick made his way past the high priest, moving toward the door. "She was a witch, Dahos," he spat over his shoulder.

"A witch?" Horror showed on Dahos's face. He edged away from the corpse. "This is Norah Ap Orat," he said. "She baked bread and blended special teas to sell in the marketplace. We were one of her customers, Your Wor shy;ship!"

"Be quiet." Hederick replied. "Have the guards remove her. Burn her-no, better yet, have her fed to the materbill; the creature likes carrion." Hederick watched the high priest as a pair of guards hefted the woman's slight body and bore it out of the room. The High Theocrat felt the strength of leadership rekindle within him.

"Personally oversee the destruction of any of this witch's wares in our stores," he commanded. "And order all who have partaken of her wares to undergo immediate emetics and begin two days of prayer and fasting." A thought occurred to him. "Was her tea served at my table, Dahos?"

The priest shook his head. "To the novitiates, mostly."

"A week of prayer and fasting, then. Tell them immedi shy;ately, Dahos." As the high priest rose, Hederick stopped him. "Wait. Bathe first. And change your robe. It disgusts me."

Dahos nodded mutely.

"You are dismissed," Hederick finally said, and the high priest hurriedly left the chamber through the doors beneath the pulpit.

Alone again, Hederick glanced upward and around the Great Chamber. Statues of Omalthea and the pantheons stood behind the top tier of benches. There was no sound, no sign of Ancilla. The sun was sinking low. It was the sweetest, holiest time of the day. Usually.

Hederick.

With no warning, the thing stood before him. Part lizard, part dragon, part woman, part smoke, its shape shifted ceaselessly. Whatever Hederick tried to focus on melted and was no longer there, or became something else. The only way to see it, apparently, was out of the cor shy;ner of one's eye. He did not doubt that if he reached out to touch Ancilla's apparition, his hand would pass right through.

The shadow Ancilla held in its filmy claw a lance the length of a man. The lance was real enough, and the mon shy;ster seemed to have strength enough to wield it.

The lance began as green and purple mist and solidified to terrifying sharpness just under the High Theocrat's breastbone. The tip of the lance severed the fibers of his robe, but stopped short of pricking him. If Hederick moved at all, if he shouted for help, he knew the projectile would pierce him through his heart before anyone could rescue him.