Bells of the Kingdom (Children of the Desert Book 3) Read Free

in—” He glanced at the Head Priest.
    “Almost two years,” sionno Hagair supplied.
    Kullag’s scowl now rivaled Dernhain at his most impatient. “Where does she live, boy?”
    “Captain, the proper term is sannio,” Hagair said. “Novice. Boy is disrespectful.”
    Kullag ignored the interruption, his attention fixed on Kolan.
    Kolan gulped, his composure wavering. “I—I don’t know, Captain,” he said. He couldn’t tell this man where to find Ellemoa’s cottage. Even empty and abandoned, it was hers. And since nobody knew why the lake-born had left, there was nothing saying she mightn’t return one day.
    She wasn’t a witch. She wasn’t.
    He tried not to think about flames dancing on the tips of her fingers without burning the flesh beneath, and kept his gaze stubbornly on the corner of the head priest’s desk.
    “You don’t know?”
    “I always met her somewhere,” Kolan said, not looking up. A fine sweat broke out on his forehead, and he didn’t dare look at the head priest. Seek not the chaos of the world outside. Dedication to one’s given tasks. Harm no living creature, from beetle to boy.
    Lies harm one’s soul, each one a tiny rip, hard to mend, each one a scar forever.
    He’d take the hurt of a lie if it protected Ellemoa from this man.
    Hagair shifted his weight restlessly but once more made no open protest.
    “I see,” the captain said, his tone black with disapproval and doubt. “Solian seemed quite certain that you would know how to guide us to her.”
    Kolan’s heartbeat thudded in his ears.
    “Captain,” the Head Priest cut in, “Solian exaggerates. He also lies. He seems to find it amusing. There’s a very good reason he was being sent to Jion for a long meditational retreat.”
    Kolan’s gaze slid inexorably sideways to the bag of marbles.
    “Since you seem to know Solian so well,” sionno Hagair continued, “perhaps you can tell me what happened to his companions? He was sent north with a senior priest, sio Ense, and another novice named Asrain. Did he happen to mention them at all?”
    “Missing priests aren’t my concern,” Kullag snapped. “Witches are my concern. And Solian struck me as surprisingly trustworthy, sionno. All things considered. I’ve gotten quite good at spotting liars.”
    Kolan could feel the captain’s glare boring into him.
    “Not as good as you think, apparently,” the Head Priest said. “Since Kolan seems unable to help you, is there anything else I can do for you, Captain? It’s almost time for noon services.”
    Kullag grunted. The air suddenly felt thick and dry; Kolan glanced up and found the two men glaring at one another with searing intensity.
    “No,” Kullag said at last, and with the barest sketch of a bow turned and stormed from the room.
    “Gods hold your soul gently, Captain,” sionno Hagair said without the least trace of irony. As the heavy tread of the captain’s booted feet faded along the hallway, he sighed again, rubbing his hands over his face.
    “Sannio Kolan, shut the door and sit down. Check that he’s really gone first.”
    The hallway was empty. Kolan pushed the heavy wooden door shut, dread coiling in his stomach, and returned to perch on the single chair in front of the head priest’s desk.
    “I’m sorry, sionno,” he said, deciding that he might as well get the scolding over with and receive his punishment allotment of Recitations.
    To his surprise, Hagair grimaced and settled into his own rather sturdier chair without answering right away. At last he said, “There are gradations to morality in the real world that aren’t always covered in the Creeds, Kolan. You’ve just tripped over one of those, I’m afraid.”
    Kolan glanced up, startled. “You’re not angry?”
    “I’m furious. But not at you. You handled that very well.” Hagair pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then dropped his hand to the desk and looked at Kolan again. “Now you tell me the