through his options, a rat caught in a pipe trap, running and running, but always running in circles and feeling the poison sinking in through his skin. He had no evidence. He might get the men to take him to the council, but he couldn’t get anyone to act before Ben would make a call to whoever had purchased his sister. People were all too ready to believe that a Gazer was mad with paranoia, and his word against Ben Gratu would lead to only one outcome. No matter how he turned, he couldn’t find an escape. Exile or death waited at every turn—every turn but one.
“Yes, sir,” Temar whispered.
Ben beamed at him. Reaching over, he slipped his hand behind Temar’s neck and pulled him in for a hug. “Such a good boy you are. Let’s get you some water and some food before the others come.” Ben slapped him on the back and then turned to the refrigerator, one arm still draped over Temar’s shoulders. “I fear I don’t trust you enough to untie you yet, but you point out which foods you like, and I’ll feed you.”
Chapter 6
“ Y OU ’ RE up late.” Div settled himself down on the pew next to Shan.
“Thinking.”
“Didn’t think you were praying,” Div said. From the senior priest, those words could have been sharp with rebuke, but instead Div sounded almost amused. Shan took a moment to glare at the old man.
“I often pray; however, God helps those who help themselves.”
“The Gospel according to Ben Franklin.” Div nodded slowly, his skepticism showing in the twist of his mouth. “Is that not the man who whored his way through Europe after escaping an apprenticeship with his brother? I’m not sure I would trust him for spiritual advice. I would rather turn to Proverbs. Whoever trusts his own wit is a fool; anyone whose ways are wise will be safe.”
“I’ve been called worse than a fool,” Shan admitted. He stared up at the stylized cross, metal strips and windwood branches artistically woven together to create something stark and beautiful and mesmerizing.
Div settled next to him, pulling his glasses off and perching them on his head before he leaned back in the pew and crossed his arms over his chest. For long minutes, they sat in the dark of the church, the wind scraping over the sloping sides of the building.
“Are you going to sit here all night?” Shan finally asked.
“That would depend,” Div answered without opening his eyes.
“On what?”
“On how stubborn you are being tonight.” Cracking one eye open, Div silently challenged him. Shan sighed. He knew full well that if the obstreperous old man insisted on hearing his thoughts, he would not be placated until Shan had finally talked. As a teenager, he’d tried testing Div’s patience and stubbornness, and he’d lost every time.
“I’m bothered by the things I see around us.”
“Oh, just wait until you’re my age,” Div promised. “You’ll be absolutely terrified by them. I think God measures our lifespan in how much change we can take before our heads explode.”
Shan smiled. As a boy, Div had always been his safe haven, a man who would speak his mind without the need to belittle others. He’d changed little in the years, except that his chin seemed to be drooping lower, his nose was bulbing and his thinning hair had turned white. He was still the blunt man whom Shan could count on for some honesty.
“So, what is threatening to make your head explode like an over-watered pipe trap?” Div pressed back in the pew, and the wood groaned under the force. Shan mentally added the pew to his list of repairs around the church.
“Meid is pregnant again.”
“Which is not a reason to sit in the dark and brood.”
“I’m not brooding.”
“Of course not. You only sit in the dark and stare at the cross and blame yourself for the flaws of the universe. I stand corrected.” Div paused. “Actually, I sit corrected, and I would like to be lying in my bed, asleep and corrected.”
Shan frowned, bothered
“Yes, sir,” Temar whispered.
Ben beamed at him. Reaching over, he slipped his hand behind Temar’s neck and pulled him in for a hug. “Such a good boy you are. Let’s get you some water and some food before the others come.” Ben slapped him on the back and then turned to the refrigerator, one arm still draped over Temar’s shoulders. “I fear I don’t trust you enough to untie you yet, but you point out which foods you like, and I’ll feed you.”
Chapter 6
“ Y OU ’ RE up late.” Div settled himself down on the pew next to Shan.
“Thinking.”
“Didn’t think you were praying,” Div said. From the senior priest, those words could have been sharp with rebuke, but instead Div sounded almost amused. Shan took a moment to glare at the old man.
“I often pray; however, God helps those who help themselves.”
“The Gospel according to Ben Franklin.” Div nodded slowly, his skepticism showing in the twist of his mouth. “Is that not the man who whored his way through Europe after escaping an apprenticeship with his brother? I’m not sure I would trust him for spiritual advice. I would rather turn to Proverbs. Whoever trusts his own wit is a fool; anyone whose ways are wise will be safe.”
“I’ve been called worse than a fool,” Shan admitted. He stared up at the stylized cross, metal strips and windwood branches artistically woven together to create something stark and beautiful and mesmerizing.
Div settled next to him, pulling his glasses off and perching them on his head before he leaned back in the pew and crossed his arms over his chest. For long minutes, they sat in the dark of the church, the wind scraping over the sloping sides of the building.
“Are you going to sit here all night?” Shan finally asked.
“That would depend,” Div answered without opening his eyes.
“On what?”
“On how stubborn you are being tonight.” Cracking one eye open, Div silently challenged him. Shan sighed. He knew full well that if the obstreperous old man insisted on hearing his thoughts, he would not be placated until Shan had finally talked. As a teenager, he’d tried testing Div’s patience and stubbornness, and he’d lost every time.
“I’m bothered by the things I see around us.”
“Oh, just wait until you’re my age,” Div promised. “You’ll be absolutely terrified by them. I think God measures our lifespan in how much change we can take before our heads explode.”
Shan smiled. As a boy, Div had always been his safe haven, a man who would speak his mind without the need to belittle others. He’d changed little in the years, except that his chin seemed to be drooping lower, his nose was bulbing and his thinning hair had turned white. He was still the blunt man whom Shan could count on for some honesty.
“So, what is threatening to make your head explode like an over-watered pipe trap?” Div pressed back in the pew, and the wood groaned under the force. Shan mentally added the pew to his list of repairs around the church.
“Meid is pregnant again.”
“Which is not a reason to sit in the dark and brood.”
“I’m not brooding.”
“Of course not. You only sit in the dark and stare at the cross and blame yourself for the flaws of the universe. I stand corrected.” Div paused. “Actually, I sit corrected, and I would like to be lying in my bed, asleep and corrected.”
Shan frowned, bothered
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