Free Blood Lies (Dark Brothers of the Light #9) by Janrae Frank Page B

three days, the novelty of being left to his own
devices had worn off. A wizen old mon in sky blue robes, banded in
black, with sun symbols embroidered along the edges, stopped in
front of him.
    "Which liege-god do you serve?"
    "Kalirion."
    That brought a smile from the mon. "I am
Father Telamon, priest to Kalirion. You're one of the
apprentices?"
    Stygean's interest perked up. He had wanted
for months to meet a priest of his liege-god, and here one was. He
regarded Father Telamon with a sudden keen interest. "Lord
Isranon's apprentice."
    "I see. So you are sa'necari-born?"
    "Yes." A tremor of nervousness set Stygean
on edge. The last thing he wanted to do was to offend the very type
of priest he had been looking for since his conversion. Don't
reject me. Don't, don't, don't reject me. I want to be accepted by
Kalirion. I want a godmark like Isranon. I'll wear it
proudly.
    "I do believe it would be safe to assume
that your religious training has been neglected. Come along." The
priest scuttled off down the hallway, and Stygean could not think
of what else to do but follow him.
    "Have you ever wondered what happens to a
sa'necari who has his gifts torn from him? Or his Shaukras burned
out?"
    Stygean shivered and shook his head at the
sudden ominous turn in the subject matter, uncertain of why the
priest would bring it up.
    "They die. When they rise, they are a
mindless thing of their appetites. The research was
fascinating."
    "That's like what Anksha did to my father
... only he could not rise. Her feeding sears the shaukras."
Realization hit him between the eyes. "You experimented on people
like myself?"
    "I didn't. Teague Merishin did. And they
were scarcely like yourself. They were steeped-in-death sa'necari.
The worst kind. You're still pure, boy. And I would like to see you
stay that way."
    The memory of his father withering away and
dying from Anksha's appetites brought tears to the corners of
Stygean's eyes.
    Telamon softened. "Forgive me, boy. My
fascination overcame my sense. You lost your father to her."
    "And my mother." Stygean choked up. "My
mother, Chinisi, tried to stop her from taking my father. Anksha
destroyed her mind. The last time I saw her, she was sitting on the
floor with a dirty rag doll in her arms, singing to it. She never
knew I was there."
    "So do you hate Lady Anksha?"
    "I'm afraid of her."
    "Hate and fear often go together, boy."
Telamon paused at the door to the shrine chamber, and then
inexplicably turned aside.
    "Where are we going?"
    "As one of the three resident priests here,
I have a little office down the way."
    Stygean followed him into a cozy chamber
with a desk at the far end. Sofas, chairs and low tables filled the
near side, interspersed with bookcases and a small personal shrine
to Telamon's liege-god, Kalirion. Telamon indicated that Stygean
should sit down, so the boy settled into a plush overstuffed
chair.
    "I'm not a Reader, my son. However,
sometimes my liege-god whispers to me." He dug into a drawer of the
desk, coming out with a basin and filling it with several bottles
and jars. Telamon placed them on the low table in front of Stygean
and then rang for a servant, who appeared promptly.
    "Your holiness?"
    "Tea. My special one. And wine." Telamon
turned to Stygean. "Your master does allow you wine?"
    "Yes."
    The servant departed.
    The priest set the bottles and jars around
the basin, which he then filled with water from a ewer.
    "You're going to scry?" Stygean tilted his
head curiously.
    "In a manner of speaking. We're going to
peek at the future, if my liege-god is willing. Or rather you
are."
    "I don't have that gift."
    "The gift is not needed. Faith is. You
worship Kalirion?"
    "Yes."
    "With your full heart?"
    "Yes."
    "Then that is all that is required. Kalirion
is the lord of prophecy, healing and sunlight."
    The servant returned with a silver tray that
contained a teapot in a cozy, two cups, a bottle of blood-red wine,
as well as two blown glass goblets. Then he bowed and