that to anyone but Div, but the fact was that he wanted to do a lot of things. He wanted to dismantle the slave system before another Blue Hope. He wanted to throw every resource behind the doctors so they could do their jobs. He wanted to send a message up to space to tell the inner worlds to stop their stupidity before everyone on Livre slowly died. He wanted to rip the whole world apart out of sheer frustration. But in the end, he didn’t know what to actually do.
A Bible verse floated to the top of Shan’s memory. “For trampling on the poor man and for extorting levies on his wheat: although you have built houses of dressed stone, you will not live in them; although you have planted pleasant vineyards, you will not drink wine from them.”
“You think someone lives in a house of stone?” Div asked.
“The lords of the inner worlds,” Shan immediately answered.
Div chuckled. “I have great faith in your ability to change the world, but that is a little far for even you and your passion to reach. Is there anyone closer… someone who you might actually reach?”
Shan thought about that. Temar came first to mind. The boy used to slip into the back of church during service, and every slave had the right to come to church, but he hadn’t shown up since Ben Gratu had driven off with him a month ago. Likely the boy was using Sundays to sleep, and in reality, he was far more concerned about Cyla. However, Temar was the easiest to reach.
Div used the back of the pew to push himself up. “I can already see you have a mission in mind. So, go. Do something useful that does not include staring at the cross and waiting for God to act.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in God helping those who helped themselves.”
“I don’t. But I do believe that the Book of Ecclesiasticus also says, ‘The sinner will not escape with his ill-gotten gains nor the patience of the devout go for nothing. He takes note of every charitable action, and everyone is treated as he deserves’.”
Div rested a hand on Shan’s shoulder, and for a second, he leaned heavily into Shan and wobbled slightly on his legs. When he stood up too fast, sometimes he would have to grab at something to avoid falling. Right now, Div’s fingers pressed into Shan’s shoulder, and he could feel the warmth between them. Everything his father had denied him, Div had offered, and seeing Div struggle this way worried him. However, that was one more battle Shan didn’t know how to fight.
Div cleared his throat and caught his balance again before patting Shan on the cheek. “You need to fix fewer pews and read more Bible verses. So, go… take some charitable action.”
Shan smiled up at his mentor and rested his own palm against Div’s, so that Div’s hand was, for a moment, trapped between Shan’s face and palm. “Thank you.”
“It’s in the job description,” Div said, with a touch of mockery in his voice. “I have to pretend to be wise and have something useful to offer.” After dismissing his own words, Div turned and walked toward the back where a narrow passage connected the church proper to the parish house next door.
Shan waited as he heard the door close. Div would move slowly through the narrow passage and up the stairs to his room. If Shan timed it right, he would give Div enough time to get to his own room before he followed. That way Div wouldn’t hurry to try and get out of Shan’s way, and Shan could make sure that Div got safely into bed before he went to his own room. And when tomorrow came, he’d check on Temar and visit Cyla in Red Plain. Maybe he’d feel better if he faced a few of his fears and proved to himself that he was only seeing boogeymen in the dark.
Chapter 7
T HE sand cycle, with its oversized tires, lost traction again, and Shan found himself sliding down the dune face fast and faster. Wind tore at his sleeves, and dust clouded his vision, but his muscles knew this game. He closed his eyes and
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