Read Online The Pagan Night by Tim Akers - Free Book Online

going?”
    “We go because the church asks us to go. That’s all you need to know.”
    “Surely there’s more…”
    “That’s all you need to know,” Malcolm repeated, almost angrily. “Now give your father some peace. Night has fallen. I have my prayers to say.”
    Ian shook his head and grimaced.
    “How do you expect me to learn anything if you won’t let me inside these sorts of meetings? If I’m to be the next lord of Houndhallow…”
    “If you’re to be the next lord, then I’m to die first, and you’ll forgive me if I’m not anxious to play that out,” Malcolm said sharply. “Besides, you’re still a boy. What counsel do you expect to give?”
    “I’m a man of sixteen, grown enough to take the vow if I chose, and yet…”
    “A boy of sixteen, and grown enough to know he knows nothing.” Malcolm finished the bottle and tossed it out into the river. It disappeared from sight long before it reached the raging waters below. “Honestly, son, you have enough to worry about without adding these things to your table.”
    “What? What have I to worry about? I spend my days practicing the sword, riding the lists, and dancing. It’s ridiculous, and while it might be enough for a child of the south, groomed to walk the courts of Heartsbridge, I’m not interested in that life. I want to be a lord of the north, Father, like a man of the old tribes. A leader! And I can’t begin to be that if you don’t let me learn to be a lord.”
    “You can learn the way I learned, boy. The same way you learned to fall off a log—by falling off a log.” Malcolm rubbed his face. “It’s just, you understand, that I was as anxious as you, when I was your age. Anxious to be about my business.”
    “Then why do you keep pushing me back?”
    “Because my father never did,” Malcolm said sternly. “Because he took me to every council meeting, sought my advice on matters of state, taught me how to dance with a lady and greet the ministers and address the Celestial throne. And then, when he died and I was the one truly in command, it was all…” He stared down at his hands. “It wasn’t enough. It was worthless. They never teach you what you need to know.”
    “Then teach me that,” Ian said, after a moment of silence. He didn’t like seeing his father like this. “Whatever it is, whatever grandfather didn’t teach you. Teach me that. That’s what I want to learn.”
    Malcolm laughed, a low, rolling chuckle that seemed to be rooted in the stone of the castle. He clapped his son on the shoulder and smiled.
    “That cannot be taught,” Malcolm said. “You can’t be prepared for what this throne requires of a man—not until you’re on the seat. Not until it’s your word that ends a life, or saves it. Not until it’s your decision that can lead to war—” His voice caught, and Malcolm looked out over the forest, his eyes glassy under Cinder’s harsh light. “Nothing can prepare you for this life.”
    The two stood there awkwardly. Below them the castle’s inhabitants continued on their frantic pace, ignoring the duke and his heir.
    “So what am I to do?” Ian asked.
    Malcolm didn’t answer.
    “Live,” he said after a time. “Live and be a child. The weight of a man will be on you soon enough. Perhaps sooner than you hope. Perhaps sooner than we
all
hope.”
    “I mean tonight,” Ian said.
    “Ah. Go to bed. Sleep. Morning is not far off.”
    Malcolm gave his son an affectionate cuff across the face, then pushed past him and shuffled down the battlement to the main tower. Ian watched him go, wondering what in the names of both gods might be on his father’s mind, what news the high elector brought, and why Beaunair was insisting they travel south for the Allfire. Especially to that bastard Halverdt’s court.
    He looked out over the forest, staring south to distant Greenhall, and wondered what was waiting for them in the night.
    * * *
    Morning came, and with it the cost of that bottle of wine,