The sudden scream was shockingly loud, echoing from the ruined walls of nearby buildings. The ragged priest stumbled back, covering his eyes with his hands and screaming as if he’d just been dipped in boiling pitch.
‘I hope you won’t take this personally, your worship,’ Eliar said, driving the Knife directly into the shrieking priest’s chest.
The scream cut off abruptly, and the dead man collapsed with not so much as a twitch.
Althalus spun, his eyes searching every vacant window and doorway. As luck had it, they were alone. ‘Get him out of sight!’ he barked at Eliar. ‘Hurry!’
Eliar quickly put the Knife away, seized the fellow’s wrists and dragged him behind a partially collapsed wall. ‘Did anybody see us?’ he asked just a bit breathlessly.
‘I don’t think so,’ Althalus replied. ‘Come here and keep watch. I want to search the body.’
‘What for?’ Eliar stood up. His hands were trembling slightly.
‘Calm down,’ Althalus told him. ‘Get a grip on yourself.’
‘I’m all right, Althalus,’ Eliar said. ‘It’s just that he startled me when he started screaming like that.’
‘Why did you apologize before you killed him?’
‘Just trying to be polite, I guess. Mother taught me to mind my manners. You know how mothers are.’
‘Watch the street. Let me know if somebody happens along.’ Althalus roughly searched the body, not really knowing what he might be looking for, but the dead man’s pockets had absolutely nothing in them. He kicked a bit of rubble over the body, and then he came back out into the street.
‘Did you find anything?’ Eliar asked. His voice still sounded a little excited.
‘Calm down,’ Althalus told him. ‘If you’re going to do this, do it right. People who are all worked up make mistakes.’
Then a black-robed priest came striding up the rubble-littered street toward them. He was a fairly young man, and his hair was a rich auburn color. His dark eyes were flashing indignantly. ‘I saw what you just did!’ he said. ‘You men are murderers!’
‘Shouldn’t you get a few details before you start making accusations like that?’ Althalus said calmly.
‘You killed him in cold blood!’
‘My blood wasn’t particularly cold,’ Althalus said. ‘Was yours, Eliar?’
‘Not really,’ Eliar replied.
‘The man was not a priest. Reverend Sir,’ Althalus told their accuser. ‘Quite the opposite – unless Daeva’s set up a priesthood of his own here lately.’
‘Daeva!’ the youthful priest gasped. ‘How did you know that name?’
‘Is it supposed to be a secret?’ Althalus asked mildly.
‘That information is not supposed to be in the hands of the general population. Ordinary people aren’t equipped to deal with it.’
‘Ordinary people are probably much wiser than you think they are, Reverend,’ Althalus told him. ‘Every family has a few black sheep. There’s nothing really unusual about it. Deiwos and Dweia aren’t really happy that their brother went astray, but it wasn’t really their fault.’
‘You’re a priest, aren’t you?’
‘You make it sound almost like an accusation,’ Althalus said, smiling slightly. ‘Eliar and I sort of work for Deiwos, but I wouldn’t go quite so far as to call us priests. The man Eliar just put to sleep was one of the people who work for Daeva. As soon as we discovered that, we killed him. There’s a war in the works right now, Reverend. Eliar and I are soldiers, and we’re going to fight that war.’
‘I’m a soldier of Deiwos, too,’ the priest asserted.
‘That hasn’t been established yet, my young friend. There’s a little test you’d have to take first. That’s what you just saw happen here. The fellow lying over behind that wall didn’t pass the test, so Eliar killed him.’
‘The stars haven’t said anything about a war.’
‘Maybe the news hasn’t reached them yet.’
‘The stars know everything.’
‘Maybe. But maybe they’ve been told to keep the information to themselves. If I happened to be the one who’s running this war, I don’t think I’d be scrawling my battle-plans across the sky every night, would you?’
The priest’s eyes grew troubled. ‘You’re attacking the very core of religion,’ he accused.
‘No. I’m attacking a misconception. You look at the sky and imagine that you’re seeing pictures up there, but they aren’t really pictures, are they? They’re just disconnected points of light. There isn’t a Raven up there, or a Wolf, or a Serpent, or any other imaginary picture. The war’s right here, not up there. But this is all beside the point. Let’s find out if you really are one of the soldiers of the Sky-God.’
‘I have taken a vow to serve him,’ the priest asserted devoutly.
‘Did he ever get around to telling you whether or not he accepted your vow?’ Althalus asked slyly. ‘Maybe you don’t qualify.’
The auburn-haired young man’s eyes grew even more troubled.
‘You’re filled with doubts, aren’t you, friend?’ Althalus said sympathetically. ‘I know that feeling very, very well. Sometimes your faith falters and everything you want to believe seems to be nothing but a mockery and a deception – some cruel joke.’
‘I want to believe! I try so hard to make myself believe.’
‘Eliar and I are here to make it easier for you,’ Althalus assured him. ‘Show him the Knife, Eliar.’
‘If you say so,’ Eliar said obediently. He looked at the troubled priest. ‘Don’t get excited about this, Your Worship,’ he said. ‘I’m going to show my Knife to you. I’m not threatening you with it or anything. There’s some writing on the blade that you’re supposed to read to us. If you can’t read it, we’ll shake hands and part friends. If you do happen to see a word on the blade, you’ll be joining us. This is that test Althalus was talking about.’
‘Just show him the Knife, Eliar,’ Althalus said. ‘You don’t have to make a speech to him.’
‘He gets grouchy sometimes,’ Eliar told the now-baffled priest. ‘He’s the oldest man in the world, and you know how grouchy old men get sometimes. We’d better get down to business before he starts jumping up and down and frothing at the mouth.’
‘Eliar!’ Althalus almost shouted. ‘Show him the Knife!’
‘You see what I mean about him?’ Eliar said. He took the Knife out from under his belt and pointed at the complex engraving on the blade. ‘This is what you’re supposed to try to read,’ he explained. ‘The word sort of jumps right out at you, so you don’t really have to work at it too hard.’
‘Eliar!’ Althalus almost pleaded.
‘I’m just trying to help him, Althalus.’ Eliar held the hilt of the dagger firmly in his fist and turned his hand to hold the blade directly in front of the trembling priest’s pale face. ‘What does it say. Your Worship?’ he asked politely.
The youthful priest went paler still, as if every drop of blood had drained from his face. ‘Illuminate,’ he replied so reverently that it seemed almost a prayer.
The dagger in Eliar’s fist broke into joyful song.
‘I knew he was the one, Althalus,’ Eliar said in an off-hand sort of way. ‘That’s why I was trying to sort of ease him into it. You’re a fairly good sergeant, but sometimes you’re just a little rough. You ought to work on that, if you don’t mind my saying so.’
