Tarscenian smiled impishly and extended his blanket to cover the boy's soaked leg. "You've not asked me about myself, lad."
The man had rescued Hederick from a lynx and given him dinner … and listened to his long tales. Wasn't that enough to know about someone? "You're a trader," Hed shy;erick said. "Or a mercenary."
"I'm a Seeker priest."
A priest! Hederick struggled to his knees. The blankets snared him around the ankles, and he tore at them with clumsy fingers. He didn't know what a Seeker was, but no matter. The man was a heathen and a priest!
"I speak for the New Gods, son."
"No!" Hederick shouted angrily, feeling betrayed by the man he'd begun to think of as a hero. "There is only one god. The Old Gods deserted us in the Cataclysm, and every god since then is just pretend, except for Tiolanthe. He speaks to my mother. And I'm not your son, you fraud." Tears streamed down his cheeks.
Tarscenian carefully gauged the boy's heated denial. Some of the friendliness left the gray eyes. "Who do you think saved us from the she-lynx, Hederick? Who fright shy;ened her off … me? You and your clods of moss? Some higher power? Or this Tiolanthe-while we're speaking of frauds?"
Hederick refused to look at him. "You did," he said sulkily. "You had the sword."
Tarscenian cocked his head. "My blade never touched the lynx, son. And what about the explosions?"
Hederick had no answer.
Tarscenian's hand locked around the boy's thin wrist, pulling him near. "The New Gods interceded, Hederick," the priest said gently. "Can your mother do that, by call shy;ing on her god? Can this Tiolanthe himself, for that mat shy;ter?"
"N-no," Hederick mumbled.
"Well, then, perhaps the New Gods have a plan for you, son." Tarscenian's voice grew insinuating. "Perhaps I'm a part of that plan. Who are we to question the will of the gods?"
Hederick risked an upward glance. Tarscenian's gray eyes were direct; the friendliness was back. And yet… "What do you take me for, a fool?" Hederick exclaimed suddenly. "I'm no part of a plan___" He crawled out from under the canvas. Tarscenian surprised him by letting him go-Rain lashed at the boy, and in moments he was soaked.
A few steps away, the campfire still flickered under a scrap of suspended canvas, but Hederick was determined not to return to Tarscenian's sanctuary. Lightning erupted. Thunder crashed through the trees.
"Where will you go, lad?"
"Home!" Hederick said desperately. "My… my mother will be worrying about me in this storm."
Tarscenian said nothing for a few moments. Hederick's words hung between them. "From the sounds of it, lad, your mother worries about no one but herself," the Seeker priest finally said. "She'll not take you back if you return to Garlund so soon, you know. She wants you to suffer. You're being made an example. She craves the power, and you're a threat to her. None of the other villagers has the spunk to take her on, is my guess."
"She's my mother," Hederick whispered. "You've never met her. What would you know?"
The priest laughed. "I've met hundreds like your mother, Hederick-men as well as women. I'm a priest. I run into all sorts of troubled souls who think they've rein shy;vented the gods." He sighed, then failed to suppress a yawn. "I'll take you home in the morning, Hederick. I believe I can make things right with your mother. Why not trust me, at least for now? I'd hardly snatch you from a lynx's jaws to devour you myself, son."
Still Hederick hesitated. "You'll take me back?" He imagined the villagers' faces when he strode back into Garlund with this sword-wielding, towering heretic. "Tomorrow?"
"If you wish."
Hederick crouched to peer under the wide canopy. The rain streamed down his back. "Early?"
"At dawn, if you want." A smile creased Tarscenian's face. "Lad, I'm bone-weary. I walked many miles today. I did battle with a giant cat and, what's far more daunting, locked horns with a stubborn twelve-year-old. The New Gods will watch over us tonight, Hederick. I must sleep now, son, and I won't be able to if I must worry about you wandering off in the rain. You'll be prey to every creature and lung ailment on the prairie." He yawned hugely. "Make your choice, lad. Truce?"
"All right," Hederick finally said. "But I'll listen to nothing more about New Gods."
"For the night, anyway. Good enough."
Hederick crawled back into the shelter, dribbling rain shy;water like a sodden kitten. Stripping off his wet clothes, he accepted Tarscenian's spare shirt, so huge that the sleeves fell past his fingertips. Dry again, Hederick curled up in his blanket. The priest, already snoring, exuded heat like a hearth even though he'd relinquished both blankets.
Hederick was asleep in seconds.
* * * * *
The boy saw Garlund as though through Tarscenian's eyes as they approached it early the next day, Hederick perched on the big man's shoulders. The village rose from the lush prairie like an abscess. Hungry-looking people stared from windows and doorways.
Venessi appeared in the square and halted, struck as dumb by this towering visitor as the common villagers were. She made a gesture for the stranger to halt, and Hederick suddenly realized how short his mother was. Of course, he told himself, wouldn't fate enjoy the joke of him, the son, taking after tiny Venessi, whereas Ancilla had inherited Con's height, strength, and good looks?
Venessi's faded blond hair, cropped just below her ears, waved in uncertain curls around her round face. Her eyes, which appeared green in some light, were frigid blue in the early morning. Hederick saw in Venessi's face the same round nose and protruding eyes that he bore.
"That's your mother?" the priest asked beneath his breath. "The round one with the nervous hands?"
"That's her."
"I'd certainly not take her on unarmed," Tarscenian said sotto voce.
Hederick waited for Venessi to order the attack. Could even a man such as Tarscenian stand long against the united villagers? The priest had spent a few moments ear shy;lier in special prayer, muttering rhymes and tracing fig shy;ures on the ground with colored sand. He seemed to think that would evoke his Seeker gods to protect him. But Hederick pulled at the stranger's hair. "Tarscenian, maybe we should …"
"Hush, lad. I'm well-armed, and with more than a sword."
Tarscenian's pack was too small to hold more than food, bedroll, and perhaps a small hand weapon or two. "A knife?"
"Ah, you disappoint me. I am a priest; I have my gods at my back. Follow my lead." Tarscenian's head swung to the left. "That's the building where the precious icons are stored? The stone-and-daub hovel?"
"The prayer house."
"It is locked?"
"Only from the inside, when someone is within. It's for the use of the common folk. Mother prays in her own house."
The priest grunted. Then the convivial Tarscenian of the night before was back.
"Greetings, people of Garlund!" he boomed. "I bring you joyous news! I am Tarscenian, Seeker priest. I have news of wondrous gods who can ease your lives of strife and trouble and promise you immortality!
"What a splendid community, and what pious residents. I am fortunate to have the opportunity to visit with you and bring you the word of the New Gods."
"Stranger," Venessi said coldly, "you are not welcome here. Nor is this boy."
Tarscenian stepped back as if slapped. Anger colored his face. "You are Venessi-the one who dared to banish this brave lad? This boy who last evening helped me beat off a deadly predator thrice his size? Truly he walks in the grace of the New Gods-yet you reward him with banish shy;ment? Don't you care about your soul, Venessi?"
Tarscenian stood taller. His voice was so deep that it growled like thunder. "Have you no idea how much you-and these poor folk who have followed you in inno shy;cent trust-have sinned in the eyes of the New Gods? Do you intend to make that sin even greater?"
"Kill them," Venessi snarled to the villagers.