The Light of the Oracle Read Free Page A

face.
    On the edge of town the Master Priest halted in front of a dilapidated rectory. The building had once been painted red, as was suitable, but only peeling strips of dull color remained. The keltice knot carved in the door was nearly invisible in the weathered wood.
    Bryn almost fell as she slid from her horse. She bit her lip again, looking anxiously at the rectory.
    The Master Priest approached on foot. “Come, Bryn,” he said. “ You too, Nirene.”
    They mounted broken steps. The door opened to a musty entryway. The unmistakable smell of sour wine greeted them as they passed into the rectory itself, where a few crumbling pews faced an altar. A single candle, set upon a dingy altar cloth, burned before a woefully faded image of the god Solz. An old man in tattered robes lay sprawled beneath shelves stuffed with books. Several empty wine bottles were strewn beside him.
    Bryn rushed forward. She bent to the man, shaking his shoulder gently. The reek of wine was overpowering.
    “Dai,” Bryn whispered. “Dai, wake up!”
    He stirred, but didn't open his eyes. “Bryn?” he mumbled. “G'on—take any book.”
    “Dai!”
    “Step away from him,” said the Master Priest.
    The girl stumbled as she took hasty steps backward.
    Renchald's deep voice sounded eerie in the impoverished rectory. “Won't you pay your respects to the Master Priest, Dai?” His gold keltice ring shone in a band of light where dust motes danced.
    The man's lids fluttered. He gazed up at Renchald through bloodshot eyes, then began a fruitless scramble to get to his feet. He kept tumbling over. “Szorry,” he muttered.
    Nirene could barely contain her disgust. Stinking drunk under the very nose of the gods! Well, this so-called priest wouldn't live much longer. Nirene's practiced eye sized him up:
Not only very old. Sick enough to be near death's door
.
    Dai stopped trying to stand. He sat, gray head swinging slowly from side to side. His bleary glance found Bryn, and he began to laugh in a strange despairing cackle. “G'bye,” he said. “Always knew … they'd come for you, Bryn.” His hand flapped toward the door as he looked up at the Master Priest.
    “ You knew?” She seemed puzzled.
    “Remember—” Dai began, but then groaned heavily, clutching his chest. The sound of his breathing filled the rectory as he struggled for air.
    “Dai?” Bryn flung herself to the floor beside him. “Dai?”
    “No,” he gasped out. He pitched backward, his body twitching like a tired fish, eyes wide and popping. His skin began turning blue.
    Bryn caught one of his flailing arms, but he pulledit away. He didn't seem to see her, gazing fixedly at the wall beyond. She looked around wildly. “Help him!” she cried.
    The Master Priest kneeled next to her. He cradled Dai's head in his large hands as the old man thrashed about. Dai went rigid. A long deep sigh escaped him and then he was still.
    Bryn tugged at his shoulder. “Dai, please, please.” When he didn't move, she sank back on her heels, panting like a winded animal.
    “Don't grieve,” Renchald said softly. “He probably lived with pain for many years.” He looked up at Nirene. “Take Bryn outside. I will administer the final blessing.”
    The girl's stare was blank. Her large eyes filled with tears, and she looked even more of a waif than she had before. The simpleton obviously didn't comprehend Dai's good fortune. Why, the Master Priest himself would give the final blessing! It was what every priest hoped for.
    “Come,” Nirene said briskly, snapping her fingers.
    Bryn wiped her eyes with grubby hands, leaving more dirt streaks on her face. She got to her feet, and Nirene put a firm hand on her elbow. At the doorway she paused to look back at the Master Priest bending over the dead man, but Nirene didn't let her linger.
    The sunlight outside stabbed their eyes sharply. From the back of her horse, Clea sneered down at Bryn. “Why are you crying? Is that the only way to wash your