not question whether he had really left the church, simply that he
had left.
“Why was he allowed to leave?” Balzeer felt that
Mordecai was still pulling Haggios’ strings. He would need close supervision.
“And why Brazil? His family is from somewhere in Boston.”
“We only dispose of students who have been with us
past the two-year period, Master. It would raise too much suspicion and undue
scrutiny if we did not allow yearlings to leave as they saw fit. It’s not good
for public relations.” Mordecai didn’t dare allow himself to believe that he
was fully out of harm’s way. He didn’t give in to the hope that there was any
light ahead of him.
“Mossy, go with him. You are to be superior on this
quest and your word is law.” Balzeer’s bejeweled hand waved both away. They
might be his best hope to find the boy.
Mordecai still stung from the order, but was relieved
that he had escaped with his life. Now, he must suffer under the master’s
hound. He looked at Mossy with enough venom to have killed him on the spot.
However, Mossy returned his gaze with a mask of indifference. He was a
pragmatist and usually operated from the shadows; being in the open made his
job that much more difficult. There was a reason he was the master’s favorite.
He would complete the assigned task and bring glory to the church.
“As you command, Master.” He chose not to reveal his
reservations about the mission. He was as good at hiding his emotions as
Mordecai was at betraying his. “How will we find him? Brazil is a large
country.”
The question was open to anyone who could answer.
Mossy would put no more effort into this than he had to. He would follow any
road to which his master directed him.
“You will follow Mordecai. He knows where Mr. Haggios
is.” Balzeer laid all of this at the feet of the upstart. If the mission
failed, it would be his responsibility. If he succeeded, Balzeer would take the
credit for sending him. “Mr. Aronovich, listen carefully.”
The Supreme Tribunal of the Church of Lucifer the
Lightbringer, Balzeer McGrath, gave very specific instructions to both of his
minions. “If you find our charge, bring him back to follow the path for which
he was chosen. This is our Savior and Redeemer. The one who will deliver us to
our destiny.” His head lay back and he spoke as if from a trance. “Any who seek
to stop you, deliver them to their judge. If anyone does not help you, take their
name and a piece of their person. We will mark them for a lifetime of
suffering.
“Those who are our enemies will die quickly. Those
who are dogs, which do not do our bidding, will die agonizingly and slowly.
Find our Savior. To claim this prize, you must stop at nothing — not even
death. If either of you expires, the other is to return with the body. If both
of you die, then I will find you in hell and make you suffer far more than you
would ever dream possible.”
These threats were certainties. The Supreme Tribunal
was the human, and visible, face of others who ruled from the shadows and from
afar. They wore many names and their numbers were legion. They were as
ever-present as dust, which clings to everything. They could never be removed;
they remained and expanded. They were at the highest levels of government, of
wealth and station.
TIME: AUGUST 31ST, 1961. ALEXANDRIA, EGYPT
Kosta went through two elliniko , Turkish
coffees, without opening the Idammah-Gan . It lay ominously between the folds
of the newspaper, ready to pounce. He knew that now he could open it without
danger, but took his time, contemplating both it and where this past year had
led him.
He was no longer the Truth, a remnant of imperial,
Byzantine authority. On May 29th, he had returned to Kostadinoupoli and
given his ancestor peace. That part of his life — which had ruled his
imagination through his childhood and permeated all his family’s attention
— was over. Now, as
Kosta stared at the Idammah-Gan, he knew that
had left.
“Why was he allowed to leave?” Balzeer felt that
Mordecai was still pulling Haggios’ strings. He would need close supervision.
“And why Brazil? His family is from somewhere in Boston.”
“We only dispose of students who have been with us
past the two-year period, Master. It would raise too much suspicion and undue
scrutiny if we did not allow yearlings to leave as they saw fit. It’s not good
for public relations.” Mordecai didn’t dare allow himself to believe that he
was fully out of harm’s way. He didn’t give in to the hope that there was any
light ahead of him.
“Mossy, go with him. You are to be superior on this
quest and your word is law.” Balzeer’s bejeweled hand waved both away. They
might be his best hope to find the boy.
Mordecai still stung from the order, but was relieved
that he had escaped with his life. Now, he must suffer under the master’s
hound. He looked at Mossy with enough venom to have killed him on the spot.
However, Mossy returned his gaze with a mask of indifference. He was a
pragmatist and usually operated from the shadows; being in the open made his
job that much more difficult. There was a reason he was the master’s favorite.
He would complete the assigned task and bring glory to the church.
“As you command, Master.” He chose not to reveal his
reservations about the mission. He was as good at hiding his emotions as
Mordecai was at betraying his. “How will we find him? Brazil is a large
country.”
The question was open to anyone who could answer.
Mossy would put no more effort into this than he had to. He would follow any
road to which his master directed him.
“You will follow Mordecai. He knows where Mr. Haggios
is.” Balzeer laid all of this at the feet of the upstart. If the mission
failed, it would be his responsibility. If he succeeded, Balzeer would take the
credit for sending him. “Mr. Aronovich, listen carefully.”
The Supreme Tribunal of the Church of Lucifer the
Lightbringer, Balzeer McGrath, gave very specific instructions to both of his
minions. “If you find our charge, bring him back to follow the path for which
he was chosen. This is our Savior and Redeemer. The one who will deliver us to
our destiny.” His head lay back and he spoke as if from a trance. “Any who seek
to stop you, deliver them to their judge. If anyone does not help you, take their
name and a piece of their person. We will mark them for a lifetime of
suffering.
“Those who are our enemies will die quickly. Those
who are dogs, which do not do our bidding, will die agonizingly and slowly.
Find our Savior. To claim this prize, you must stop at nothing — not even
death. If either of you expires, the other is to return with the body. If both
of you die, then I will find you in hell and make you suffer far more than you
would ever dream possible.”
These threats were certainties. The Supreme Tribunal
was the human, and visible, face of others who ruled from the shadows and from
afar. They wore many names and their numbers were legion. They were as
ever-present as dust, which clings to everything. They could never be removed;
they remained and expanded. They were at the highest levels of government, of
wealth and station.
TIME: AUGUST 31ST, 1961. ALEXANDRIA, EGYPT
Kosta went through two elliniko , Turkish
coffees, without opening the Idammah-Gan . It lay ominously between the folds
of the newspaper, ready to pounce. He knew that now he could open it without
danger, but took his time, contemplating both it and where this past year had
led him.
He was no longer the Truth, a remnant of imperial,
Byzantine authority. On May 29th, he had returned to Kostadinoupoli and
given his ancestor peace. That part of his life — which had ruled his
imagination through his childhood and permeated all his family’s attention
— was over. Now, as
Kosta stared at the Idammah-Gan, he knew that
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