The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith) Read Free Page B

stone framing one of the windows.
    The Citizen twisted the vine-engraved knob with no sign of having heard the sound. With a soft, triumphant cry, his prey pushed through the door and vanished inside. Blaise counted to thirty before following.
    Giving the man a head start made things a little more interesting.
    An empty hallway greeted Blaise, the silence adding to the heavy weight of antiquity to the church. Lanterns hung from chains far overhead, illuminating the stone floors polished smooth with age. Rose mosaics lined each side of the hall.
    Blaise breathed deep and followed his nose. The scent of fear was all but gone, replaced by the richer aroma of anticipation and excitement. It led him around the central sanctuary toward the inner cloister.
    Toward Alphege, who carried the Heart of God. Blaise’s awareness of the relic manifested as a tingle in his lower spine when he concentrated on it. Its voice was similar to someone still lost in sleep; mumbles without words or true feelings.
    Blaise turned back long enough to reach out toward the door and lock it once more with a whispered Word. The door didn’t fight him this time, clicking in obedience of his will.
    If the figure gave Blaise the slip and he had to hunt, at least the locked door would slow the fleeing human down a little. Blaise’s Speech wasn’t perfect; he wasn’t God, but few could open a door he didn’t want them to pass through. His prey would have to find another way to escape the cathedral.
    If the servants and worshippers complained of a stuck door in the morning, Blaise would deal with it after the would-be thief was eliminated. He smiled.
    The last time someone had gotten so far, they had spent hours exploring the maze of halls, chambers, altars, and small cloisters pocketing the cathedral. Blaise’s prey took the most direct route, ducking through empty hallways, skirting the three-storied library, and crossing the inner gardens before descending into the hive of rooms flanking the entry to the catacombs.
    “Bishop,” the raspy voice of the steward greeted him.
    Blaise slowed to a halt and forced a smile before turning to face the hunchbacked man clad in the simple brown robes of those who lived within the monastery adjacent to the cathedral.
    “Steward Volas. God’s Blessing upon you,” he replied.
    “You’re late,” Volas scolded before letting out several wet, heavy coughs. The perfume of blooming roses tickled Blaise’s nose and his smile faded.
    “You should rest, old friend. You’ve done your duty well.”
    The steward’s smile transformed the leathery, wrinkled visage into a thing of ancient beauty. “He descended into the catacombs where the Archbishop prays.”
    Blaise reached out and brushed his fingers across the man’s forehead before dipping down to press his lips to Volas’s gray-haired head. “I will see to it. Rest well, Child of God.”
    The steward bowed his head and shuffled away, and the presence of God’s roses clung to the old man in a shroud invisible even to Blaise’s keen eyes.
    Blaise stared at the steward’s back and waited until the man was out of hearing before murmuring the prayer for the dead. When the Gates to God’s Garden opened in the middle of night or early morning, Blaise hoped He would guide Volas’s weary soul to peaceful rest until the time of rebirth.
    A sigh escaped him, low and long, and Blaise couldn’t resist glancing toward the tallest spire of the cathedral housing the lone bell. He pressed his lips together in a thin line and abandoned his slow, leisurely pursuit for a purposeful, ground-eating stride.
    It didn’t surprise him that his prey knew the Heart was held by the mortal Voice of God, the Archbishop appointed to rule over all of the Erelith churches. But how had the man known where to go?
    Who had spoken of Alphege’s whereabouts? Few knew where the old man rested after sunset services until the midnight prayers.
    Blaise descended the stairs leading to the