A Darkness at Sethanon by Raymond Feist

tell who is a Nighthawk or not . . .”
    Jimmy sat up.
“What?”
    “What
what?”
    “What you
just said. Why not?”
    Laurie turned
slowly to face the squire. “What are you thinking?”
    “I’m
thinking it’s time to have a chat with Father Nathan. You
coming?”
    Laurie put aside
his mug of bitter beer and rose. “I’ve a horse tied up
over there.”
    “We’ve
ridden double before. Come along, Your Grace.”
    For the first
time in days, Laurie chuckled.

    Nathan listened
with his head tilted to one side while Jimmy finished his idea. The
priest of Sung the White rubbed his chin a moment, looking more a
former wrestler than a cleric, while he thought. “There are
magic means of impelling someone to tell the truth, but they are time
consuming and not always reliable. I doubt we’d find such means
any more useful than those presently being employed.” His tone
revealed he didn’t think much of the means presently being
employed.
    “What of
the other temples?” inquired Laurie.
    “They have
means differing little from our own, small things in the way spells
are constructed. The difficulties do not lessen.”
    Jimmy looked
defeated. “I had hoped for some way to pluck the assassins from
the mass wholesale. I guess it isn’t possible.”
    Nathan stood up
behind the table in Arutha’s conference room, appropriated
while the Prince was overseeing the questioning. “Only when a
man dies and is taken into Lims-Kragma’s domain are all
questions answered.”
    Jimmy’s
expression clouded as a thought struck; then he brightened. “That
could be it.”
    Laurie said,
“What could be it? You can’t kill them all.”
    “No,”
said Jimmy, dismissing the absurdity of the remark. “Look, can
you get that priest of Lims-Kragma, Julian, to come here?”
    Nathan remarked
dryly, “You mean High Priest Julian of the Temple of
Lims-Kragma? You forget he rose to supremacy when his predecessor was
rendered mad by the attack in this palace.” Nathan’s face
betrayed a flicker of emotion, for the priest of Sung himself had
defeated the undead servant of Murmandamus, at no little cost. Nathan
was still plagued by nightmares from that event.
    “Oh,”
said Jimmy.
    “If I
request, he may grant us an audience, but I doubt he’ll come
running here just because I ask. I may be the Prince’s
spiritual adviser, but in temple rank I am simply a priest of modest
achievements.”
    “Well then
see if he will see us. I think if he’ll cooperate, we might
find an end to all this madness in Krondor. But I’ll want to
have the Temple of Lims-Kragma’s cooperation before I blab the
idea to the Prince. He might not listen otherwise.”
    “I’ll
send a message. It would be unusual for the temples to become
involved in city business, but we’ve had closer relationships
with each other and the officers of the Principality since the
appearance of Murmandamus. Perhaps Julian will be kindly disposed to
cooperate. I assume there’s a plan in this?”
    “Yes,”
said Laurie, “just what have you got up that voluminous sleeve
of yours?”
    Jimmy cocked his
head and grinned. “You’ll appreciate the theatre of it,
Laurie. We’ll whip up some mummery and scare the truth out of
the Nighthawks.”
    The Duke of
Salador sat back and thought on what the boy had said; after a moment
of consideration, his blond beard was slowly parted by a widening
grin. Nathan exchanged glances with the two as understanding came and
he, too, began to smile, then to chuckle. Seeming to think he forgot
himself, the cleric of the Goddess of the One Path composed himself,
but again broke into an ill-concealed fit of mirth.

    Of the major
temples in Krondor, the one least visited by the populace was that
devoted to the Goddess of Death, Lims-Kragma - though it was commonly
held that the goddess sooner or later gathered all to her. It was
usual to give votive offerings and a prayer for the recently
departed, but only a few worshipped with regularity. In