Free The Education of Brother Thaddius and other tales of DemonWars (The DemonWars Saga) by R.A. Salvatore Page A

admit a woman among the saints – a necessary action, I expect. Perhaps St. Gwendolyn was clever, and her ruse helped save the day from the powries. More likely, she bought the defenders enough space to launch some lightning or fire at the dwarves, driving them from the beach.”
    “Ah,” the mystic said, nodding in understanding. “And there is the true miracle, of course, the barrage of magical energy from the sacred Ring Stones.”
    The young monk didn’t reply, and stood impassively, as if the truth should be self-evident.
    Pagonel nodded and turned his full attention to the painting once more, enchanted by the beautiful face, the thick black hair and the graceful twist of this exquisite woman. The movement was so extreme and in balance, the cloak flying wildly, and yet obviously she remained in complete control. The artist had done his work well, the mystic knew, for he felt as if he understood St. Gwendolyn, and felt, too, that she would have made a wonderful Jhesta Tu.
    Might Gwendolyn still have a lesson for the Abellican Order, Pagonel wondered?
    He turned to the young monk. “What is your name?”
    “Brother Thaddius,” the man answered.
    Pagonel smiled and nodded. “These are the Saints of the Abellican Church?”
    He nodded.
    “Tell me of them,” the mystic asked.
    “I have my duties…”
    “Bishop Braumin and the others will forgive you for indulging in my demands. I expect that this is important. So please, young Brother Thaddius, indulge me.”
    *****
    “What am I to do?” Braumin asked Viscenti a few nights later in the private quarters of Fio Bouraiy, where the two were separating dead Bou-raiy’s private items from the robes and gemstones reserved for the office of the Father Abbot..
    “It falls to you,” Viscneti replied. “Of that, there is no doubt.”
    “It?”
    “Everything,” said Viscenti. “I do not envy you, but know that I will be there standing behind you, whatever course you chart.”
    “A bold claim!”
    “If not Braumin Herde – Bishop Braumin Herde – then who?” Viscenti asked. “Is there an abbot left alive after the De’Unneran Heresy?”
    “Haney in St. Belfour.”
    Viscenti snorted and shook his head. “A fine man, but one who was not even ready for that position, let alone this great responsibility we see before us. Besides, he is a Vanguardsman, as is Midalis who will be King.”
    “Perhaps an important relationship then.”
    Again, the skinny, nervous man snickered. “Midalis would not have it,” he declared, and Braumin couldn’t disagree. “Our new King is no fool and having a Vanguardsman as King and as Father Abbot would surely reek of invasion to the folk of Honce proper! Duke Kalas would not stand for it, nor would the other nobles.
    “Abbot Haney would be the wrong choice, in any case,” Brother Viscenti went on. “He has no first-hand understanding of De’Unnero or his potential followers. He does not understand what drove the heretic, or even, I fear, the true beauty of Avelyn. He is no disciple of Master Jojonah!”
    That last statement, spoken so powerfully, jolted Braumin upright. Just hearing the name of Jojonah bolstered him and reminded him of the whole point of…everything. Master Jojonah had trained Brother Avelyn, and had shown a young Brother Braumin and some other even younger brothers the truth of the Abellican Church, as opposed to the course Father Abbot Dalebert Markwart and his protégée De’Unnero had charted for Order.
    Master Jojonah had been burned at the stake clinging to his beliefs, had gone willingly into thearms of God – and had charged Brother Braumin with carrying on his bold course. So many others, too, had died for those beliefs. Braumin thought of brave brother Romeo Mullahy, who had leaped from the cliff at the Barbacan, the ultimate defiance of Marcalo De’Unnero, an action that had shaken De’Unnero’s followers and resonated within those who had opposed him.
    And Brother Castinagis, one of