Free Revelation by Carol Berg

hope of fire. My throat ached. My heart swelled with profound longing, a craving so deep my eyes watered. My veins pulsed with melydda, yet the transformation remained just beyond my reach. Just beyond my control. No burst of fire in my body. No explosion of glory in my mind.
    I expelled my held breath, jerked my head, and felt shamed at my greed, seeking some kind of perverse personal pleasure from a gift dedicated to the defeat of demons. I forced my eyes back to the page, but the lamp was failing, and I couldn’t concentrate. Young Howel had blotted his writing with his cheek, and when I nudged him, he slipped off his chair and onto the striped rug in front of the cold hearth. I threw a blanket over him, then pulled off my boots and sprawled out in a chair in the farthest corner of the room by an open window, lulled by the night smells of damp clover and mint.
    I had just drifted off to sleep, when I heard the door open. “Just about gave up on you,” I said drowsily, sitting up and trying to clear the thickness from my head and my tongue. “Came to report, as my mentor commands. Let me get my wits about me—a cup of something hot might help—then I’ll tell you the most astounding story you’ve ever heard.”
    “You will tell me nothing tonight, Seyonne.” Catrin stepped out of the shadowed doorway. Her voice carried no warmth, no welcome. “There will be adequate time for you to explain yourself.” Fiona followed her into the room, and then another woman and three men. One of the men was Caddoc: tall, spare, grim, long wisps of gray hair falling down in his face. The white-haired woman, deceptively plump and motherly for one of the most powerful sorcerers in Ezzaria, was Maire. The other two men were temple guards, eiliddar of various callings who had some fighting skills. We had very little of what anyone would call crime in Ezzaria, but the temple guards took care of such matters as intruders, or Ezzarians who got drunk or picked fights with others.
    I woke up very quickly when I saw them. “What’s all this?”
    Caddoc stepped forward. “It has been reported that you have violated your oath by permitting a demon to retain possession of a victim without challenge.” He came near spitting out the words. “How do you answer?”
    I looked to Catrin, but her expression was unreadable, her best mentor’s face—no anger, no fear, no concern. Only intense listening.
    “It’s not as simple as that.”
    “We’re not trying to trick you, Seyonne,” said Maire softly. “Only to hear your response before deciding how to proceed.”
    “Are these men here to arrest me?” Arrest. I could not fathom it. Perhaps one arrest occurred per decade in Ezzaria. And a Warden . . . It was unthinkable.
    “How do you answer?” Caddoc’s voice was as gray as his hair, his skin, and his cloak. “You did not kill the demon. You did not banish it. The only remaining possibilities are that you lost in true combat or that you failed to challenge.”
    “Catrin . . .”
    “You are not under arrest, Seyonne. But with charges so serious, you cannot be allowed to speak with anyone until the case is heard. You must understand that.”
    “Not even with my mentor?”
    “No.” It was Caddoc who answered.
    “Then, it makes no difference what I say.” I sat down in the chair, and while they watched, I methodically put on my boots and most determinedly did not answer. “I’ll be at home.”
    I headed for the door, ignoring the others who stood about like the stone columns of the temple. But when I passed Fiona, hovering beside the door, I paused. She glared at me, as if daring me to strike her. “Consider well what happened today, Fiona,” I said. “Think and feel and remember. When the time comes to speak, tell me what evil you felt when you opened that portal. Tell me what madness you found to pull into your weaving. Find out from the Searchers the things they didn’t tell us. I want to understand it as much as anyone,