Free Children of Fire by Drew Karpyshyn Page B

room.
    Decorations and similar frivolity were nonexistent. This was the domicile of a man focused on a purpose, a man not given to material goods and worldly concerns lest they interfere with his pursuit of high knowledge. A man devoted to a cause … though Jerrod was smart enough to understand that this cause wasn’t necessarily the same as his own.
    When they reached their destination Rexol sat down at a small table, then motioned for his guest to do the same.
    â€œTell me why you are here,” he demanded, forgoing preamble or courtesy.
    Jerrod could sense the animosity in his voice. Despite Ezra’s efforts to bring Rexol into the fold, the mage was still suspicious and mistrustful of anyone bearing the empty gray eyes of the Order. Understandable, given the years he had spent as a fugitive during the Purge.
    â€œEzra is dead,” Jerrod said simply, cutting to the heart of the matter. “A week ago.”
    â€œHe was old,” Rexol replied, showing no real remorse over the news.
    â€œIt wasn’t age. One of our people was captured by the Inquisitors. She exposed Ezra as the leader of our cause.”
    â€œAre they coming for me next?” The question was sharp and accusing.
    â€œOf course not!” Jerrod shot back, his own temper rising. “Only Ezra and I know of your involvement with our cause, and Ezra fled the Monastery before they could question him. He died out in the desert. The Pontiff doesn’t suspect either one of us.”
    The wizard chewed his lower lip with his pointed teeth, weighing the implications. “So why are you here?”
    â€œI thought you deserved to know. Ezra spoke highly of you. I think he considered you a friend.”
    Rexol flashed a grin and gave a dismissive laugh. “It’s easy to be a friend when someone has something you need.” His voice was sarcastic and bitter. “Ezra was only interested in how I could help your great and worthy cause. He saw me as nothing but a means to an end.”
    â€œThen why did you agree to help us?” Jerrod demanded, slamming his fist on the table. He knew his pent-up grief over the loss of his mentor was coming out as anger against Rexol, but he didn’t care.
    The wizard shrugged, his tone suddenly mellow. “The same reason, I suppose. I want something from you. Having allies among the Order might someday be of great value to me.”
    It might even save your life,
Jerrod wanted to say. But he knew threatening the wizard would get him nowhere.
    â€œBesides,” Rexol continued. “It’s not as if Ezra actually ever asked me to do anything.”
    â€œThat day will come soon,” Jerrod warned him. “The Burning Savior has already been born into the mortal world. The Oracles have seen it.”
    â€œReally?” Rexol seemed amused by the monk’s pronouncement. “Is our savior a boy or a girl?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Jerrod admitted. “The details of the vision are unclear. The identity of the Savior is shrouded in mystery.”
    Rexol barked out another short laugh. “What good are prophecy and vision if you can’t act on them?”
    â€œEzra gave his life for this cause,” Jerrod reminded him.
    â€œThat doesn’t mean he wasn’t a fool,” Rexol answered more quietly. “What other signs do you have that this so-called savior is coming?”
    â€œThe Blood Moon heralds a time of momentous events,” the monk solemnly declared.
    â€œThe Purge was marked by a Blood Moon,” Rexol muttered grimly. “Maybe your brethren are about to unleash another massacre on the Southlands.”
    Jerrod chose to ignore the wizard’s comment. “The coming of our savior is inevitable,” he insisted. “Each season more children are born with Chaos in their veins. Wandering magicians have become a common sight in all the Seven Capitals. Outside the cities any villager can turn to the