The Blood Solution (Approaching Infinity Book 3) by Chris Eisenlauer Page A
Authors: Chris Eisenlauer
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helplessness.
Lissa’s face darkened somewhat, but it was with earnest resolve. “I do not wish to corrupt you, but neither would I see you live the rest of your days alone,” she said.
“I have already lived a good many days,” he said.
She shook her head. “You have only just begun to live, I feel the power in you. Sar Stusson may be without peer in some respects, and Sar Braams may have the Seventh Secret, but in you is Life, pure and unbridled, coursing like a river, swelling like the seas, contained by the steely shell of your indomitable will. I know, too, the overwhelming sense of obligation you feel. But we all have our parts to play. I would share with you the task of bearing that obligation, to lessen your burden. However that might be accomplished. Sar Braams and Sar Sosa have only recently taken up Stewardship. I do not deny or belittle their worth or the roles they have taken, but you have given so much for so long.”
“How am I any different from Sar Stusson? The man taught me and is still teaching.”
“In the most critical way. Sar Stusson lived his life, had a family, lost them, and discovered that even later in life he could grasp the Secrets. You, you’ve never lived your own life. You trained at Cathedral, gained your Entitlement, became a Steward almost immediately, entered the fighting circuit as a an exhibition fighter—one might even say for recruiting purposes—and found wild success there. But everything you’ve done has been for the Church, directly or indirectly.”
She studied him as was her unconscious habit, sinking into his slate-blue eyes. He looked like a man of 40, in perfect physical condition, his skin healthy, but brown with the sun and weathered by years and by his training. He was lean and of average height, but covered with corded muscle. Everyone who knew him spoke of his presence, though, having the sense that he has a much bigger man than he was in reality. Lissa knew that this was the result of a combination of his Entitlement and his potent will which spilled out of him constantly, like wine overflowing a cup.
“I know that you want more. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me, hear it in your voice when you speak to me. But that steely will of yours provides you with a variety of armors.”
“Some day, Lissa.”
She took his wrists, lifted his hands from her shoulders, drew his body to hers, and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was long, gentle, and insistent. When finished, she stepped back and wiped the wetness from her confident smile.
“Sooner than you think, Sar Fosso. There is no shame in coupling. Before long all those that can be taught will have been, and your role as teacher, as mentor, as Steward will be finished. You’ll simply be a man Entitled by God, free at least to love who you will. I only hope that it’s me.”
She turned, and started away, but added over her shoulder in a musical tone, “I can wait. And I will. There are things— people —worth waiting for. You’ll pardon me for continuing to try while I wait, though. We all have our gifts. I’m simply exercising mine.”
And then she was gone.
Fosso stared after her, grinning in spite of himself, though his eyes were sad. Somewhere below the surface he was weak. In fact, he couldn’t imagine life without Lissa or her advances. Of course it stoked his ego, what ego he could afford to have, but from the beginning it had been different with her. He’d had thousands of students, and though female Entitlement holders were somewhat rare, that fact did not prevent women from studying in great numbers and among them had been and would always be a fair share of those who could be classified as nothing less than beautiful. But Lissa was different. Something about her personality fit the contour of his in a way that made him shudder, that felt more divine than Entitlement itself. He hoped that she’d been sincere, that she would wait. He wanted nothing more than to be with
Lissa’s face darkened somewhat, but it was with earnest resolve. “I do not wish to corrupt you, but neither would I see you live the rest of your days alone,” she said.
“I have already lived a good many days,” he said.
She shook her head. “You have only just begun to live, I feel the power in you. Sar Stusson may be without peer in some respects, and Sar Braams may have the Seventh Secret, but in you is Life, pure and unbridled, coursing like a river, swelling like the seas, contained by the steely shell of your indomitable will. I know, too, the overwhelming sense of obligation you feel. But we all have our parts to play. I would share with you the task of bearing that obligation, to lessen your burden. However that might be accomplished. Sar Braams and Sar Sosa have only recently taken up Stewardship. I do not deny or belittle their worth or the roles they have taken, but you have given so much for so long.”
“How am I any different from Sar Stusson? The man taught me and is still teaching.”
“In the most critical way. Sar Stusson lived his life, had a family, lost them, and discovered that even later in life he could grasp the Secrets. You, you’ve never lived your own life. You trained at Cathedral, gained your Entitlement, became a Steward almost immediately, entered the fighting circuit as a an exhibition fighter—one might even say for recruiting purposes—and found wild success there. But everything you’ve done has been for the Church, directly or indirectly.”
She studied him as was her unconscious habit, sinking into his slate-blue eyes. He looked like a man of 40, in perfect physical condition, his skin healthy, but brown with the sun and weathered by years and by his training. He was lean and of average height, but covered with corded muscle. Everyone who knew him spoke of his presence, though, having the sense that he has a much bigger man than he was in reality. Lissa knew that this was the result of a combination of his Entitlement and his potent will which spilled out of him constantly, like wine overflowing a cup.
“I know that you want more. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me, hear it in your voice when you speak to me. But that steely will of yours provides you with a variety of armors.”
“Some day, Lissa.”
She took his wrists, lifted his hands from her shoulders, drew his body to hers, and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was long, gentle, and insistent. When finished, she stepped back and wiped the wetness from her confident smile.
“Sooner than you think, Sar Fosso. There is no shame in coupling. Before long all those that can be taught will have been, and your role as teacher, as mentor, as Steward will be finished. You’ll simply be a man Entitled by God, free at least to love who you will. I only hope that it’s me.”
She turned, and started away, but added over her shoulder in a musical tone, “I can wait. And I will. There are things— people —worth waiting for. You’ll pardon me for continuing to try while I wait, though. We all have our gifts. I’m simply exercising mine.”
And then she was gone.
Fosso stared after her, grinning in spite of himself, though his eyes were sad. Somewhere below the surface he was weak. In fact, he couldn’t imagine life without Lissa or her advances. Of course it stoked his ego, what ego he could afford to have, but from the beginning it had been different with her. He’d had thousands of students, and though female Entitlement holders were somewhat rare, that fact did not prevent women from studying in great numbers and among them had been and would always be a fair share of those who could be classified as nothing less than beautiful. But Lissa was different. Something about her personality fit the contour of his in a way that made him shudder, that felt more divine than Entitlement itself. He hoped that she’d been sincere, that she would wait. He wanted nothing more than to be with
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