too.
I felt terribly exposed standing out there, a dozen yards from
the silent gawkers.
Reinforcements for the young Grey arrived in the person of a
grisled Shadar sergeant who seemed to think the Bhodi’s
problem was deafness. “Clear off!” he shouted.
“Or you’ll be cleared.”
The Bhodi with folded arms said, “The Protector sent for
me.”
Not having gotten Murgen’s report yet, Sahra and I had no
idea what this was about.
“Huh?”
The disciple preparing the prayer wheel announced its readiness.
The Sergeant growled, swatted it off the post with the back of his
hand. The responsible disciple bent, picked it up, began remounting
it. They were not violent people, the Bhodi disciples, nor did they
resist anything, but they were stubborn.
The two spreading the prayer rug were satisfied with their work.
They spoke to the man with folded arms. He bowed his head slightly,
then raised his eyes to meet those of the elder Shadar. In a voice
loud but so calm it was disturbing, he proclaimed,
“
Rajadharma
. The Duty of Kings. Know you: Kingship is a
trust. The King is the most exalted and conscientious servant of
the people.”
Not one witness had any trouble hearing and understanding those
words.
The speaker settled himself on the prayer rug. His robes were an
almost identical shade. He seemed to fade into a greater whole.
One of the secondary disciples passed him a large jar. He raised
that as though in offering to the sky, then dumped its contents
over himself. The Shadar sergeant looked as rattled as the
youngster. He peered around for help.
The prayer wheel was back in place. The disciple responsible set
it spinning, then backed off with the two who had spread the prayer
rug.
The disciple on the rug struck flint to steel and vanished in a
blast of flame just as I recognized the odor of naphtha. Heat hit
me like a blow. I was in character strongly enough to whimper and
grab Subredil with both hands. She resumed moving, eyes wide,
stunned.
The man inside the flames never cried out, never moved till all
life was gone and the charred husk left behind toppled over.
Crows circled above, cursing in their own tongue. So Soulcatcher
knew. Or soon would.
We continued moving, into the now-animated crowd and through,
heading home. The Bhodi disciples who had helped prepare the ritual
suicide had disappeared already, while all eyes were fixed on the
burning man.
----
----
10
I can’t
believe he did that!” I said, still climbing out of
Sawa’s smelly rags and crippled personality. Word had beaten
us home. The suicide was all anyone wanted to discuss. Our own
nighttime effort had become secondary. That was over and they had
survived.
Tobo definitely did not believe it. He mentioned that in passing
and insisted on telling us everything his father had seen inside
the Palace last night. He referred to notes he had made with
Goblin’s help. He was thoroughly proud of the job he had done
and wanted to rub our noses in it. “But I couldn’t
really get him to
talk
to me, Mom. Anything I asked seemed to be
just an irritation. It was like he just wanted to get it over with
so he could go away.”
“I know, dear,” Sahra said. “I know.
He’s that way with me, too. Here’s some nice bread they
let us bring home. Eat something. Goblin. What did they do with
Swan? Is he healthy?”
One-Eye cackled. He said, “Healthy as a man with cracked
ribs can be. Scared shitless, though.” He cackled again.
“Cracked ribs? Explain.”
Goblin told her, “Somebody with a grudge against the Greys
got overexcited. But don’t worry about it. The guy is going
to have plenty of opportunity to be sorry he let his feelings get
the best of him.”
“I’m exhausted,” Sahra said. “We spent
the whole day in the same room as Soulcatcher. I thought I would
burst.”
“
You
did? It was all I could do not to run out of there
screaming. I concentrated so hard on being Sawa that I missed half
of what they
I felt terribly exposed standing out there, a dozen yards from
the silent gawkers.
Reinforcements for the young Grey arrived in the person of a
grisled Shadar sergeant who seemed to think the Bhodi’s
problem was deafness. “Clear off!” he shouted.
“Or you’ll be cleared.”
The Bhodi with folded arms said, “The Protector sent for
me.”
Not having gotten Murgen’s report yet, Sahra and I had no
idea what this was about.
“Huh?”
The disciple preparing the prayer wheel announced its readiness.
The Sergeant growled, swatted it off the post with the back of his
hand. The responsible disciple bent, picked it up, began remounting
it. They were not violent people, the Bhodi disciples, nor did they
resist anything, but they were stubborn.
The two spreading the prayer rug were satisfied with their work.
They spoke to the man with folded arms. He bowed his head slightly,
then raised his eyes to meet those of the elder Shadar. In a voice
loud but so calm it was disturbing, he proclaimed,
“
Rajadharma
. The Duty of Kings. Know you: Kingship is a
trust. The King is the most exalted and conscientious servant of
the people.”
Not one witness had any trouble hearing and understanding those
words.
The speaker settled himself on the prayer rug. His robes were an
almost identical shade. He seemed to fade into a greater whole.
One of the secondary disciples passed him a large jar. He raised
that as though in offering to the sky, then dumped its contents
over himself. The Shadar sergeant looked as rattled as the
youngster. He peered around for help.
The prayer wheel was back in place. The disciple responsible set
it spinning, then backed off with the two who had spread the prayer
rug.
The disciple on the rug struck flint to steel and vanished in a
blast of flame just as I recognized the odor of naphtha. Heat hit
me like a blow. I was in character strongly enough to whimper and
grab Subredil with both hands. She resumed moving, eyes wide,
stunned.
The man inside the flames never cried out, never moved till all
life was gone and the charred husk left behind toppled over.
Crows circled above, cursing in their own tongue. So Soulcatcher
knew. Or soon would.
We continued moving, into the now-animated crowd and through,
heading home. The Bhodi disciples who had helped prepare the ritual
suicide had disappeared already, while all eyes were fixed on the
burning man.
----
----
10
I can’t
believe he did that!” I said, still climbing out of
Sawa’s smelly rags and crippled personality. Word had beaten
us home. The suicide was all anyone wanted to discuss. Our own
nighttime effort had become secondary. That was over and they had
survived.
Tobo definitely did not believe it. He mentioned that in passing
and insisted on telling us everything his father had seen inside
the Palace last night. He referred to notes he had made with
Goblin’s help. He was thoroughly proud of the job he had done
and wanted to rub our noses in it. “But I couldn’t
really get him to
talk
to me, Mom. Anything I asked seemed to be
just an irritation. It was like he just wanted to get it over with
so he could go away.”
“I know, dear,” Sahra said. “I know.
He’s that way with me, too. Here’s some nice bread they
let us bring home. Eat something. Goblin. What did they do with
Swan? Is he healthy?”
One-Eye cackled. He said, “Healthy as a man with cracked
ribs can be. Scared shitless, though.” He cackled again.
“Cracked ribs? Explain.”
Goblin told her, “Somebody with a grudge against the Greys
got overexcited. But don’t worry about it. The guy is going
to have plenty of opportunity to be sorry he let his feelings get
the best of him.”
“I’m exhausted,” Sahra said. “We spent
the whole day in the same room as Soulcatcher. I thought I would
burst.”
“
You
did? It was all I could do not to run out of there
screaming. I concentrated so hard on being Sawa that I missed half
of what they
Similar Books
It's Always Darkest Before the Fridge Door Opens: Enjoying the Fruits of Middle Age
Phil Callaway, Martha O. Bolton
