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

evil?”
    â€œI do not know, my lady!”
    The fragrance grew even more intense. “What if the first priests had feared to raise up altars to the gods?”
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous, my lady.”
    â€œWhat if the first priests had feared to light candles for the gods?” The aroma was so intense that it seemed a physical structure in the air around her.
    â€œMy lady—”
    â€œWhat if the first priests had feared to speak their prayers aloud?” Hin was beside her, in side her, crafting her arguments for her.
    â€œThat’s absurd, my lady!”
    â€œIs it? Can you say, in the name of Hin, that those arguments are absurd?”
    Father Siritalanu sighed and shrugged, clasping and unclasping his hands. The motion seemed to free Hin, to let the god wander away, but the priest seemed unaware of the departure. “No, my lady. By Hin, I cannot answer those arguments with rhetoric.”
    Berylina pressed her advantage, silently sending a prayer of gratitude to the departed deity. “Then perhaps Speaking is merely the next form of worship that the gods desire. Perhaps it is like the prayers that people spoke within their minds, before they were moved to pray aloud.”
    â€œPerhaps. …” The priest sighed.
    Berylina sensed that he was nearly ready to concede. She pushed: “When you met with the players, did you feel that the gods were displeased?”
    â€œNo, my lady.”
    â€œDid the skies grow dark? Did the day grow chill?”
    â€œOf course not.”
    â€œDid your body cramp up with pain? Did your mind seize so that you could not think of the words you wanted to say?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen, Father, the gods were not disturbed by your learning to Speak.”
    â€œThey have not shown their displeasure. Yet.”
    â€œThen we should try. We should attempt to add Speaking to the ways in which we honor the gods. Give yourself up to the Thousand, Father. If they want to change our actions, they have the power.”
    â€œYes, my lady,” the priest whispered, and Berylina swallowed a smile.
    She was so certain that she was right. She had often heard Ranita Glasswright tell of Speaking; she understood the power of that state, the force of the mind. To harness that energy in service to the Thousand Gods. …
    Before Berylina could say anything else, though, a bell began to toll. Deep and steady, the tone sent a long shiver down her spine. Tarn’s Knell. The largest of the cathedral’s bronze bells rang only to summon the faithful to funerals, to the trying services before bodies of the faithful were committed to their pyres.
    More time had passed in argument than Berylina had realized. Convincing Siritalanu had taken the entire morning. She should have been at the cathedral long ago. She had planned to offer up extra prayers before the day’s service. Now, she would be hard-pressed to summon even one of the gods.
    â€œCome, Father,” Berylina said. “We’ll continue this later. We’ll see what the gods think of Speaking after the funeral.”
    Berylina threw a cloak over her simple gown, taking only a moment to tuck her wiry hair beneath a veil. She still reveled in her green garments, in the bright declaration of her faith. She had not yet spoken her formal vows to the church—she was waiting to do that in Brianta, in the very homeland of First Pilgrim Jair—but Siritalanu had agreed that she might dress as a caloya, a woman sworn to give her life in service to the church. She had earned that much with her faith and devotion. She had been granted that much by the gods who came to her, presenting themselves with their wonderful and unpredictable presences, their scents and tastes and sights.
    Siritalanu led her from her apartments in the royal palace, walking rapidly through the city streets. They passed few people, for Moren was officially in mourning. All of the shops had been ordered