Faith and Moonlight by Mark Gelineau, Joe King Page B

Pamalia,” Roan said.
    To Kay’s surprise, the girl smiled. “Hopefuls, then? Well,
if you are expected, let’s get you in to see the Preceptor.” She slid back the
bolt as she spoke and, with a friendly wave to come in, she swung open the
heavy gate.
    Roan and Kay stepped inside the grounds. As the gate
clanged shut behind them, Kay felt excitement and tension in equal measure. The
uniformed girl strode ahead, down the broad path leading to the magnificent
school.
    Here and there, young people of various ages moved around
them. Some appeared to be little more than five or six summers old, while
others seemed on the verge of adulthood. All wore their black leather buckled
uniforms.
    Eventually, the girl came to a stop before a door of rich,
dark wood and knocked smartly.
    “Come,” said a rich voice from inside.
    “Hopefuls, Preceptor Pamalia,” the girl said as she opened
the door.
    Preceptor Pamalia was an older woman, her dark hair
streaked with bold lines of gray. She had soft features and her hands had long,
nimble fingers that she spread out on the desk before her. There was a moment’s
pause and then she gestured toward two chairs. They sat quickly.
    Roan produced Cadell’s letter. Pamalia read the contents,
and then peered at them over the top of the paper. Kay shifted in her chair
under the scrutinizing gaze.
    “At what age did you first pierce the veil?” the preceptor
asked.
    Kay looked at Roan, but his face showed that the words were
as meaningless to him as they were to her. “Pierce the veil?” she asked. Kay
tried to keep her face impassive, worrying that their ignorance might in some
way disqualify them.
    “What has Cadell told you?” the preceptor asked.
    “Almost nothing,” Roan said.
    The preceptor sighed. “I suppose that has always been his
way,” she said, settling into her chair. “So you know nothing of becoming a
Razor?”
    Kay leaned forward a bit. “We know the stories.”
    “Stories?”
    “The legends. The ones of Aedan and the First Ascended. And
how they promised their very souls to one another, pledging their strength and
power to each other, even in death.” Kay’s voice was clear and strong as she
explained the old tales. Elinor would have been proud.
    “Those are no stories,” Pamalia said. “They are our
history. The very foundation of who and what we are. That power, that promise
made so long ago, is the source of the energy we as Razors draw upon today.”
    Kay met the preceptor’s gaze. “That is why we are here,
Preceptor. Why we asked Cadell to bring us here. We want to learn. We want to
honor them.”
    “Do you know what it is you ask? To enter Faith with no
training? No preparation? And at so late an age?” There was no malice in her
voice, no cruelty or harsh tone. In fact, it was the straightforward nature of
the question that gave it even greater weight for Kay. “Tens of thousands of
children train and fight daily at the Fairgrounds for the opportunity you seek.
Most of them have been there for years. Some since they could take their first
steps.”
    Kay felt disappointment stab her, but she forced it down,
knowing this was a desperate attempt with no real hope.
    Pamalia touched her fingers to her chin in contemplation.
“What could you have possibly done for old Cadell that he would ask this of
me?”
    “We saved his life,” Roan said.
    “Is that so?”
    Roan sat forward, perched on the edge of his seat, his
hands before him. “Please, Preceptor. Just give us this chance. We will be
worthy of it. We can learn to pierce the veil, or anything else you ask of us.”
His hands clenched into fists. “The First Ascended did not have a lifetime to
train or prepare. Aedan called on them in a moment, when all seemed hopeless,
and they answered. Call to us. I promise we will answer that call. We will show
you our worth.”
    Pamalia was silent. The only sound Kay heard was the frantic
beating of her own heart. The seconds dragged on like an eternity,