Glasswrights' Master Read Free Page B

“Who are you that defiles the House of the Thousand Gods with your implements of violence and your warlike mask?” The priest’s defiance might have inspired confidence among the loyal Morenian soldiers if his voice had not quaked.
    â€œYou know me, boy.” Holy Father Dartulamino’s voice echoed among the soldiers, as if he stood on a parade ground. “You know me, and you fear me.”
    â€œI f-fear no man who breaks into the House of the Thousand Gods!” Rani’s heart was wrenched as the priest’s brave defiance was hampered by his stammer, by the boyish curve of his cheeks. She pictured him kneeling beside the now-dead Berylina, speaking to the princess in reassuring tones. Siritalanu was meant to be a teacher, a guide, a peaceable man. He was not a warrior-priest.
    â€œStand down, boy, or I’ll have you spitted on the dais.”
    â€œYou would not do that, Dartulamino.” Father Siritalanu’s defiance was coated with incredulity. “Not here. Not in the House of the Thousand Gods. Not when my death would defile the church that you have worked so hard to build these many years.”
    For just an instant, Rani believed that Dartulamino might listen to reason. After all, he appeared in the church surrounded by religious warriors, by Briantans marked by the Thousand-Pointed Star. By their very costume, these men declared themselves devoted to the gods. Could they really mean to spill a priest’s blood upon the altar? Could they truly intend to destroy a man consecrated to all the Thousand?
    As if in answer to Rani’s questions, Dartulamino raised one commanding hand. His fingers were jagged pokers, and fire jutted from his eyes. “Remove that man from the dais. Remove the taint from the House of the Thousand Gods!”
    The Briantan soldiers sprang forward, but Hal’s voice froze them in the aisle. “Halt!”
    Dartulamino turned a sneering gaze on his king. “You do not have the right to command my Briantans.”
    Hal’s voice was as bright as the edge of a sword. “I have every right, Father, for they are my men as well. I am Defender of the Faith, am I not? Was I not sanctified in that duty by your own predecessor’s hand, in this very building, by the blessing of the self-same priest who elevated you to your post?”
    At first, Rani thought that the Holy Father might be outsmarted that simply. He clearly had not anticipated Hal staking claim to any religious title; he had rallied his men around their rebellion against secular authority.
    Silently bolstering his claim, Hal shifted the heavy necklace of Js that lay upon his shoulders. “I am the heir of First Pilgrim Jair, Father.”
    A part of Rani’s mind objected to Hal granting the priest his religious title. After all, what sort of religious man would march an army into the cathedral? What sort of priest would raise angry steel in the very house of the Thousand Gods?
    But then, Rani glanced at the Morenians who stood nearby, at the soldiers assembled for the Rites. These were men sworn to preserve order, to respect their liege lord and all that he stood for. These were men who acted to maintain the world as they understood it, who–even though they would not shrink back from fear or terror or pain in battle–would cower at the destruction of their religious faith.
    Hal granted Dartulamino his proper title, but he demanded that the priest rise up to the responsibilities of that name. Hal bound the Holy Father to solemn obligation by acknowledging his strength.
    â€œYou have forfeited that claim, rebel,” Dartulamino spat, and his Briantan fighters grew more tense. “You have deluded your people with your claims of right and wrong, with your attempts to steal diadems and gold that were not yours for the taking.”
    â€œWhat do you claim that I have stolen, Father?” Hal’s challenge was hot and immediate. When he moved his hand