could be found in any of us, I doubt that the creatures out there on the sands of the Anvil would care much for such things and darker more malignant powers only consider such puritanical qualities spice.”
The silver haired traveller shifts his gaze to the girl, who is so involved in the interchange that she has forgotten to keep up the pretence of staring uninterestedly out of the window and is instead looking on with ill-concealed relish.
“Ignorance and innocence are not the same thing, Caroline. The stories you have been told are, at best, half-truths. God does not spare the righteous. None of us is righteous. If we are lucky, He will forgive us our failings. It is all we can hope for.”
“Alas, this is not the first time I have heard such things from people who have spent too long in the wilderness. Have you forgotten the Christ man’s mercy? Who are you to talk of ignorance where such things are concerned? It is clear that what little understanding you have of scripture has been coloured by your own unhappy experience. This child has not shared your life or its indiscretions and I’ll warrant that she has less to fear from the devils get.” The preacher is still trying to maintain his temper, in light of the miles they may yet have to travel and his calling.
“She may have less weighing on her soul,” the man concedes turning his dark eyes back onto the preacher, “but that is no immunity. Indeed, faith is empty until tested.”
“Do not try to quote scriptures at me, friend,” the preacher warns.
“You mention dark and malignant powers with too much familiarity. Have you some knowledge of the occult we do not?”
Caroline’s ears prick up further at this suggestion, even though she knows the preacher has only raised the idea to embarrass the stranger, as he had embarrassed him. Caroline revels in the tension she can feel in the man in the seat next to her. Both men may have seen more of the world than her but this is not the first time that boys have argued over her.
The silver haired man already seems to be losing interest, however, and he waves the question aside.
“Does it matter? If you genuinely thought me to be in league with Satan’s forces would you rely on your purity to protect you or would you simply turn me over to the nearest Inquisitor and his men?”
“I might do both! It would be pious to hand over any dabbler in the black arts to the Inquisition and save any soul that such a person might threaten,” the preacher answers, momentarily savouring the idea of this upstart bearing the Inquisitors’ brand.
“And am I threatening her soul by telling her that the innocent suffer as readily as the corrupt? An Inquisitor might tell her the same thing.”
“It is not true! God would not allow such a thing,” the young idealist spouts, “all misery is punishment for some wrong we have committed ourselves.”
“No, padre, that is not the truth. The truth is that God has forgotten this place! We have all yet to be judged and until that day innocence will always be destroyed by evil.”
“As you hope to destroy Lady Caroline’s innocence?” The Churchman accuses petulantly.
“She asked a question and you gave her a lie for an answer. If you have served in even one outpost town, you have seen children, younger than her, struck down by curses, possessed or even fed upon by unclean spirits.”
“I have seen such things but they are not for the ears of children.”
“I’m no child,” Caroline protests, pouting.
“Forgive me my dear I simply meant you were young and did not need to be exposed to such things.”
“I have seen girls, younger than this one, with their throats torn and every drop of blood drained from them. I once saw a child of six drained and cast aside like an old wineskin. What was her sin, preacher? Should her mother have told her that there was nothing for an innocent to fear?”
Caroline gasps at this. Somehow the image that
The silver haired traveller shifts his gaze to the girl, who is so involved in the interchange that she has forgotten to keep up the pretence of staring uninterestedly out of the window and is instead looking on with ill-concealed relish.
“Ignorance and innocence are not the same thing, Caroline. The stories you have been told are, at best, half-truths. God does not spare the righteous. None of us is righteous. If we are lucky, He will forgive us our failings. It is all we can hope for.”
“Alas, this is not the first time I have heard such things from people who have spent too long in the wilderness. Have you forgotten the Christ man’s mercy? Who are you to talk of ignorance where such things are concerned? It is clear that what little understanding you have of scripture has been coloured by your own unhappy experience. This child has not shared your life or its indiscretions and I’ll warrant that she has less to fear from the devils get.” The preacher is still trying to maintain his temper, in light of the miles they may yet have to travel and his calling.
“She may have less weighing on her soul,” the man concedes turning his dark eyes back onto the preacher, “but that is no immunity. Indeed, faith is empty until tested.”
“Do not try to quote scriptures at me, friend,” the preacher warns.
“You mention dark and malignant powers with too much familiarity. Have you some knowledge of the occult we do not?”
Caroline’s ears prick up further at this suggestion, even though she knows the preacher has only raised the idea to embarrass the stranger, as he had embarrassed him. Caroline revels in the tension she can feel in the man in the seat next to her. Both men may have seen more of the world than her but this is not the first time that boys have argued over her.
The silver haired man already seems to be losing interest, however, and he waves the question aside.
“Does it matter? If you genuinely thought me to be in league with Satan’s forces would you rely on your purity to protect you or would you simply turn me over to the nearest Inquisitor and his men?”
“I might do both! It would be pious to hand over any dabbler in the black arts to the Inquisition and save any soul that such a person might threaten,” the preacher answers, momentarily savouring the idea of this upstart bearing the Inquisitors’ brand.
“And am I threatening her soul by telling her that the innocent suffer as readily as the corrupt? An Inquisitor might tell her the same thing.”
“It is not true! God would not allow such a thing,” the young idealist spouts, “all misery is punishment for some wrong we have committed ourselves.”
“No, padre, that is not the truth. The truth is that God has forgotten this place! We have all yet to be judged and until that day innocence will always be destroyed by evil.”
“As you hope to destroy Lady Caroline’s innocence?” The Churchman accuses petulantly.
“She asked a question and you gave her a lie for an answer. If you have served in even one outpost town, you have seen children, younger than her, struck down by curses, possessed or even fed upon by unclean spirits.”
“I have seen such things but they are not for the ears of children.”
“I’m no child,” Caroline protests, pouting.
“Forgive me my dear I simply meant you were young and did not need to be exposed to such things.”
“I have seen girls, younger than this one, with their throats torn and every drop of blood drained from them. I once saw a child of six drained and cast aside like an old wineskin. What was her sin, preacher? Should her mother have told her that there was nothing for an innocent to fear?”
Caroline gasps at this. Somehow the image that
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