that inspired fear, not love.
He stepped outside to retrieve the cats’ plate. Tom was gone, and Puss and Patches were stalking something in the grass over by the bushes. Only Sunshine remained, cleaning his whiskers. When Pytor picked up the plate, the cat looked up, a satisfied expression on his face. Pytor reached down and stroked the cat behind his ears, the simple act settling his emotions.
“Where did you come from?” he asked conversationally. “Who’s missing you? You were far too well cared for to be homeless.”
Sunshine’s response was a throaty purr.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing,” Pytor continued, finding nothing odd in holding a conversation with a cat. “I can’t see Jovani, Chelsah, Bhobar, Lispah or the twins go to the Fires. And I know they would.” His heart gave a sad little jump in his chest. Chardan wouldn’t hesitate a moment to make the decision to rid the world of those children. As much as he cared for his old friend, Chardan was no Durban.
The admission pained him. Oh, Sunlord, how it pained him. But he had seen the change come over Chardan years ago, as Chardan had become intent on ascending through the ranks of the priesthood and assuring himself a position of power in the future. Pytor simply could not understand what had happened to his childhood friend. The world was far too much with Chardan, and the dark side of that world seemed to be winning.
And that fact made Pytor’s decision to shield the children even more important.
:The Sunlord requires much of us,: his inner voice said, warmth present in its tone, :but not more than we can give. There’s no limit to his love for us. He only wishes us to love him in return and share that love with all his children.:
And, as a priest, he should know that better than most. Pytor smiled. His sister was right. He must place his trust in Vkandis, certain he had made the correct decision.
If things went wrong . . . well, there were more terrible things than death.
The following day passed in a blur. Selenna and the children had left for the north, but not as early as planned. A sudden summer storm had boiled up during the night and drenched the countryside, delaying a morning departure. Normally, the villagers would have hailed this storm as beneficial, but with travel held to narrow country roads, most merely lanes, rain seemed a bad omen. Choosing not to see it so, at the morning service Pytor had blessed the rain as a gift to the surrounding fields. He further assured the children’s parents that Vkandis had given everyone a bit more time to say farewells.
It had been extraordinarily difficult to stand at the edge of the village and watch Selenna and the six children set off to the north, though his sister, ever the practical and enterprising one, led the small caravan.
The families of the departing children had seemed lost now that their children had gone. He had said comforting words, made comforting gestures, but had no comforting thoughts for himself. And now, of course, he must rehearse his explanations—if such were ever needed—as to the absence of the six children. Two Trees was hardly a large village, and the yearly census would show there were fewer children to be found if anyone came looking.
And that was exactly what Chardan would be doing.
Chardan.
Pytor bowed his head. What could he say to Chardan? The ready responses he and Selenna had concocted had seemed more than sufficient at the time, but would they hold up under Chardan’s questioning? The fact all six children were cousins could explain why they had set off to visit a dying grandmother before the God took her. Such an event could preclude mandatory presence at the Feast of Children. The children’s parents had agreed to journey to the grandmother’s home to flesh out the deception, leaving not more than three hours after their children had departed. And now, in a village far emptier than it had been in the morning, Pytor wondered if it
He stepped outside to retrieve the cats’ plate. Tom was gone, and Puss and Patches were stalking something in the grass over by the bushes. Only Sunshine remained, cleaning his whiskers. When Pytor picked up the plate, the cat looked up, a satisfied expression on his face. Pytor reached down and stroked the cat behind his ears, the simple act settling his emotions.
“Where did you come from?” he asked conversationally. “Who’s missing you? You were far too well cared for to be homeless.”
Sunshine’s response was a throaty purr.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing,” Pytor continued, finding nothing odd in holding a conversation with a cat. “I can’t see Jovani, Chelsah, Bhobar, Lispah or the twins go to the Fires. And I know they would.” His heart gave a sad little jump in his chest. Chardan wouldn’t hesitate a moment to make the decision to rid the world of those children. As much as he cared for his old friend, Chardan was no Durban.
The admission pained him. Oh, Sunlord, how it pained him. But he had seen the change come over Chardan years ago, as Chardan had become intent on ascending through the ranks of the priesthood and assuring himself a position of power in the future. Pytor simply could not understand what had happened to his childhood friend. The world was far too much with Chardan, and the dark side of that world seemed to be winning.
And that fact made Pytor’s decision to shield the children even more important.
:The Sunlord requires much of us,: his inner voice said, warmth present in its tone, :but not more than we can give. There’s no limit to his love for us. He only wishes us to love him in return and share that love with all his children.:
And, as a priest, he should know that better than most. Pytor smiled. His sister was right. He must place his trust in Vkandis, certain he had made the correct decision.
If things went wrong . . . well, there were more terrible things than death.
The following day passed in a blur. Selenna and the children had left for the north, but not as early as planned. A sudden summer storm had boiled up during the night and drenched the countryside, delaying a morning departure. Normally, the villagers would have hailed this storm as beneficial, but with travel held to narrow country roads, most merely lanes, rain seemed a bad omen. Choosing not to see it so, at the morning service Pytor had blessed the rain as a gift to the surrounding fields. He further assured the children’s parents that Vkandis had given everyone a bit more time to say farewells.
It had been extraordinarily difficult to stand at the edge of the village and watch Selenna and the six children set off to the north, though his sister, ever the practical and enterprising one, led the small caravan.
The families of the departing children had seemed lost now that their children had gone. He had said comforting words, made comforting gestures, but had no comforting thoughts for himself. And now, of course, he must rehearse his explanations—if such were ever needed—as to the absence of the six children. Two Trees was hardly a large village, and the yearly census would show there were fewer children to be found if anyone came looking.
And that was exactly what Chardan would be doing.
Chardan.
Pytor bowed his head. What could he say to Chardan? The ready responses he and Selenna had concocted had seemed more than sufficient at the time, but would they hold up under Chardan’s questioning? The fact all six children were cousins could explain why they had set off to visit a dying grandmother before the God took her. Such an event could preclude mandatory presence at the Feast of Children. The children’s parents had agreed to journey to the grandmother’s home to flesh out the deception, leaving not more than three hours after their children had departed. And now, in a village far emptier than it had been in the morning, Pytor wondered if it
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