Free Green: The Beginning and the End by Ted Dekker Page B

blood.
    Qurong held his tongue.
    “Your loyalty hasn’t weakened, has it? My king?”
    “What are you speaking of?”
    “You do still believe that Teeleh is the true god. That the dragon has given you Babylon?”
    Ba’al had begun this Babylon business a year earlier; Qurong wouldn’t put it past the man to suggest renaming Qurongi City, perhaps calling it Dragoni or something as foolish.
    “What have I done to suggest any slackening of my loyalty?” he demanded.
    “You still believe that we are the abomination of desolation, the dragon’s great Babylon? That we are his instrument to crush the rebellion of those who stand against Teeleh? That it is our prerogative and our privilege, our duty, to drain the blood of every living albino? That there will come from times past an albino with a head of fire, who will rid the world of the poisonous waters and return us unto Paradise?”
    Now they were retreading old ground, these prophesies that Ba’al had pulled from his so-called visions.
    Still, Qurong would give him the benefit of the doubt. “That is correct.”
    “That your very own daughter, Chelise—”
    “I have no daughter,” he interrupted. The priest was egging him on, knowing how the name had haunted his nightmares for so many years.
    “That Thomas and the woman at his side lead the rebellion against Teeleh.”
    “Get on with it, priest. Surely you didn’t bring me here to remind me of all I know.”
    Ba’al stared at him for a few beats, then turned his back and walked toward a desk along one wall. His voice was hardly more than a hoarse whisper.
    “Have you ever considered drowning, my lord?”
    Qurong couldn’t immediately respond. What kind of blasphemy was this?
    Patricia stepped up next to him and dipped her head. “Forgive me, my priest, but you go too far.” Her voice was strained and high. “An accusation of this kind is dangerous.”
    “Of course,” the priest said, turning back. He’d lifted a small scroll from his desk and held it in his clawed hands. “I make no accusation. You’ll understand soon enough. But I do need an answer.”
    Qurong spat to one side and made no attempt to coat his words with anything other than the sentiment that swelled in his mind.
    “If I could do it personally, I would run my sword through every albino who still breathes.”
    A faint grin crossed Ba’al’s face. “And the drowning?”
    “It is defiance of my reign and all that we hold sacred. The twisted ways of Thomas would drown all of the Horde and tear down this very Thrall. I would rather drown in a bath of poison.”
    “How dare you put him through this?” Patricia challenged. His wife’s solidarity reminded Qurong why he loved her as he did.
    “Just a reminder of who our enemies are. The Eramites, yes, but Thomas and his Circle are the true scourge of our world.”
    “I don’t need your lectures,” Qurong said. “And don’t underestimate Eram or his army. They are growing faster than we are, and they don’t hide like the albinos do. I would think that should concern you.”
    “I assure you, Teeleh’s enemies are albino, not Horde. They will be easily disposed of when the time is right.”
    Qurong couldn’t take this line any farther without casting suspicion on his allegiance. “I bow to Teeleh’s judgment.” He dipped his head.
    “Then drink to him,” Ba’al said, picking up a chalice next to the goat’s head. “Swallow the goat’s blood offered to the dragon, and I will tell you how he will give you your enemies on a butcher block.” He glided across the floor and held out the silver goblet, sloshing with red blood.
    Qurong took the cup, aware that his hand was still shaking from being accused of such treason, never mind that it was only insinuated. He lifted the vessel to his lips and drank deep. The familiar taste of raw blood flooded his mouth and warmed his belly.
    Ba’al had instituted the drinking of blood, claiming that the spirit of Teeleh, indeed the very