Read Online DemonWars Saga Volume 1 by R. A. Salvatore - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: R. A. Salvatore
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Epic, dark fantasy, FICTION / Fantasy / General, Collections & Anthologies, Science Fiction/Fantasy
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shrug. "Would he care?" Siherton replied. "He would say that she is with God now, and so she is happy; and then he would go on."
"Do you mock his faith?" Jojonah asked rather sharply.
"I despise his inhumanity," replied Siherton. "His mother has died, yet will he care? I think not. Brother Avelyn is so smug within the cocoon of his beliefs that nothing can unbalance him."
"That is the glory of faith," Jojonah said evenly.
"That is a waste of life," Siherton retorted as he leaned out the window.
"You, Brother Quintall!" he called.
Both the novices stopped their work and looked up at the window. "Go to your meal," Master Siherton instructed. "And you, Brother Avelyn, do come and join with me at my — at Master Jojonah's chambers." Siherton pulled back into the hall and eyed Jojonah.
"Let us see if our young hero has any heart at all;" Siherton remarked coldly, and he stalked off toward the stairwell that would lead him down to the master's quarters.
Jojonah watched him for a long moment, wondering which of them it was, Siherton or Avelyn, who was truly lacking in heart.
"You are using this loss for a most unworthy point," Jojonah insisted when he caught up to Siherton three levels below.
"He must be told," Siherton replied. "Let us not miss the opportunity to measure this man in whom we may soon put so much trust."
Jojonah caught Siherton by the shoulder, stopping him in mid-stride.
"Avelyn has spent eight years proving himself worthy," he reminded the taller man. "Unbeknownst to him, he has been under constant scrutiny these last four years. What more would Siherton demand?"
"He must prove that he is a man," the hawkish master growled. "He must prove that he can feel. There is more to spirituality than piety, my friend.
There is emotion, anger, passion."
"Eight years," Jojonah repeated.
"Perhaps the next class —"
"Too late," Master Jojonah said quietly. "The Preparers must be selected from this class, or from one of the three previous, and not a man among the seventy-five admitted in the last three years has shown the promise of Avelyn Desbris." Jojonah paused and spent a long while studying the other man. Siherton knew the truth of Jojonah's words, and seemed now caught within that truth, helpless in the face of reality. His arguments against Avelyn would be duly noted, but they rang hollow in light of the choices before the abbey. And even with any credible arguments, Siherton's posture, bordering on anger, on outrage, seemed so out of place.
"Why, my dear Siherton," Jojonah said a moment later, figuring it out, "you are jealous!"
Master Siherton growled and turned away, heading for the door to Jojonah's private room.
"Our misfortune to be born between the showers," Jojonah said, sincerely sympathetic to Siherton's frustration. "But we have our duty. Brother Avelyn is the best of the lot."
The words stung Siherton profoundly. He stopped at the door, bowed his head; and closed his eyes, conjuring images of the young Avelyn. Always working or praying; there were no other recollections of Avelyn to be found. Strength, or weakness? Siherton wondered, and he wondered, too, about the potential danger of having one so devout getting involved with the precious stones. There were pragmatic matters concerning the magic which might not sit well in a man so deep in faith, in a man so obviously convinced that he understood the desires of God.
"Father Abbot Markwart is quite pleased with the young man," Jojonah remarked.
True enough, Siherton had to admit, and he understood that he would not win any debate he might wage against the selection of Avelyn as one of the Preparers. The position of the second Preparer remained wide open, though, and so the tall master decided then and there that he would use his energy to put forth a student better to his liking. Someone like Quintall, a young' man full of fire and full of life. And, because of that passion, because of worldly lusts, a man who could
"Do you mock his faith?" Jojonah asked rather sharply.
"I despise his inhumanity," replied Siherton. "His mother has died, yet will he care? I think not. Brother Avelyn is so smug within the cocoon of his beliefs that nothing can unbalance him."
"That is the glory of faith," Jojonah said evenly.
"That is a waste of life," Siherton retorted as he leaned out the window.
"You, Brother Quintall!" he called.
Both the novices stopped their work and looked up at the window. "Go to your meal," Master Siherton instructed. "And you, Brother Avelyn, do come and join with me at my — at Master Jojonah's chambers." Siherton pulled back into the hall and eyed Jojonah.
"Let us see if our young hero has any heart at all;" Siherton remarked coldly, and he stalked off toward the stairwell that would lead him down to the master's quarters.
Jojonah watched him for a long moment, wondering which of them it was, Siherton or Avelyn, who was truly lacking in heart.
"You are using this loss for a most unworthy point," Jojonah insisted when he caught up to Siherton three levels below.
"He must be told," Siherton replied. "Let us not miss the opportunity to measure this man in whom we may soon put so much trust."
Jojonah caught Siherton by the shoulder, stopping him in mid-stride.
"Avelyn has spent eight years proving himself worthy," he reminded the taller man. "Unbeknownst to him, he has been under constant scrutiny these last four years. What more would Siherton demand?"
"He must prove that he is a man," the hawkish master growled. "He must prove that he can feel. There is more to spirituality than piety, my friend.
There is emotion, anger, passion."
"Eight years," Jojonah repeated.
"Perhaps the next class —"
"Too late," Master Jojonah said quietly. "The Preparers must be selected from this class, or from one of the three previous, and not a man among the seventy-five admitted in the last three years has shown the promise of Avelyn Desbris." Jojonah paused and spent a long while studying the other man. Siherton knew the truth of Jojonah's words, and seemed now caught within that truth, helpless in the face of reality. His arguments against Avelyn would be duly noted, but they rang hollow in light of the choices before the abbey. And even with any credible arguments, Siherton's posture, bordering on anger, on outrage, seemed so out of place.
"Why, my dear Siherton," Jojonah said a moment later, figuring it out, "you are jealous!"
Master Siherton growled and turned away, heading for the door to Jojonah's private room.
"Our misfortune to be born between the showers," Jojonah said, sincerely sympathetic to Siherton's frustration. "But we have our duty. Brother Avelyn is the best of the lot."
The words stung Siherton profoundly. He stopped at the door, bowed his head; and closed his eyes, conjuring images of the young Avelyn. Always working or praying; there were no other recollections of Avelyn to be found. Strength, or weakness? Siherton wondered, and he wondered, too, about the potential danger of having one so devout getting involved with the precious stones. There were pragmatic matters concerning the magic which might not sit well in a man so deep in faith, in a man so obviously convinced that he understood the desires of God.
"Father Abbot Markwart is quite pleased with the young man," Jojonah remarked.
True enough, Siherton had to admit, and he understood that he would not win any debate he might wage against the selection of Avelyn as one of the Preparers. The position of the second Preparer remained wide open, though, and so the tall master decided then and there that he would use his energy to put forth a student better to his liking. Someone like Quintall, a young' man full of fire and full of life. And, because of that passion, because of worldly lusts, a man who could
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