Read Online Glasswrights' Test by Mindy L Klasky - Free Book Online

looked away from her cast eyes, unable to stomach her shattered gaze. Her brittle hair stood out from her scalp, as if she had been caught in a windstorm. Everyone who saw her knew that she was flawed, knew that she was broken. People with the best of intentions believed that she was an idiot. Others claimed that she was evil, stricken at birth as vengeance for her parents’ sins. No one believed that Berylina could have anything important to say or think or do.
    â€œMy lady. …” But Father Siritalanu was different. He saw past Berylina’s physical self. He looked beyond her face, beyond her hair. He understood the shape of her soul, the perfection that she offered up in her heart in service to all the Thousand Gods. He knew her perfect passion, the faith that burned inside her. “My lady, you must know that I do not mean to cause you displeasure.”
    â€œBut it would please me beyond telling to offer up this worship to the Thousand Gods.”
    â€œMy lady, what you propose may be heresy!”
    â€œIs it heresy to find the depths of the gods within you? To travel the paths of our minds—minds that the gods themselves created—to find the way that they wish to be worshiped? Is it heresy to Speak to the Thousand Gods?”
    â€œBut you would not be Speaking with the gods, my lady.” The priest answered her emotional outburst with quiet anguish. “You would be Speaking with me.”
    â€œAnd you are the messenger of the gods in this world!”
    â€œA messenger, my lady! Not the gods themselves! What if I am flawed? What if I am not worthy to guide you on that path!”
    Berylina heard the despair in the priest’s voice, the raw fear behind his words. Father Siritalanu—the man who had rescued her from the shame of living in her father’s home, the priest who had saved her from a kingdom that worshiped an unholy goddess of blood and death, who had kept her from being traded off as a chattel to Halaravilli ben-Jair—Father Siritalanu was afraid .
    â€œFather!” Berylina exclaimed. “You cannot doubt yourself in this!”
    â€œI doubt myself in all aspects of your spiritual life, my lady. Every morning when I rise, I ask if I am wise enough to guide your worship. Every evening, I question if I have kept you on the proper path.”
    â€œBut you are a priest, Father Siritalanu. You are my priest.”
    â€œNothing has trained me for such an honor, my lady. When I came to the priesthood as a boy, they trained me in the ways of ritual. They taught me formulas to honor the gods. They taught me traditions.”
    â€œBut when the gods guide us, we create new traditions, Father.”
    â€œHow am I to know, though? How am I to know if what you ask is guidance from the gods, or merely the voice of your pride?” She caught her breath at the accusation, and he hastened to add, “Pride most deservedly taken, my lady! In all my studies, in all my speaking to my fellow priests, I have never heard of a penitent who receives such inspiration as you. The gods speak to you in ways that most men only dream. Who am I to measure that? Who am I to direct it?”
    â€œYou trusted me enough to talk to the players when I asked, to learn how they go about their Speaking.”
    â€œMy lady, I would talk to anyone, if you but asked me. You know that I am devoted to you.”
    â€œThen what has changed? Why are you now afraid to guide me down the players’ path?”
    â€œNo one has ever done such a thing before, in service to the Thousand Gods.”
    Berylina took a deep breath, and her nose was filled with the perfume of lilac, the familiar signal of Hin, the god of rhetoric. She fought the urge to stretch her lips into a rabbity smile. With Hin guiding her, she knew that she would win this debate. She placed her words carefully, setting them between two lilac-scented breaths. “And if Speaking is new, then you think it must be