"Kill them!" Venessi screamed. "Tiolanthe orders it!"
The men and women shuffled their feet. They ex shy;changed nervous looks, yet none dared act. When the Seeker priest finally spoke, his voice was gentle. "Good people of Garlund, has Venessi ever shown you a sign from this supposed god, Tiolanthe?"
No answer came from the villagers, but Venessi shouted, "I order you to slay them!"
Tarscenian ignored her. "Has this Tiolanthe appeared to any of you? Has he given you a personal sign of his regard? Have you any evidence that he is more than this deluded woman's imagination?"
Furtive looks passed between husbands and wives. Venessi's face grew livid in her rage. "Begone, stranger!"
she shrieked. "And take that sinner of a boy with you."
"I challenge you, heretic," Tarscenian said, facing her anger with calm confidence. "My Seeker gods demand a duel. You speak for this Tiolanthe. Do you consent to a duel?"
Venessi, the paleness of her face giving way to mottled pink and red, gawked around the circle of villagers. "Gar-lunders, you are ensorceled!" she cried. "He is a witch! You have pledged your lives to me and my god!"
"I'm no witch, and no mage, either, Venessi," Tarscen shy;ian responded. "I am only a priest for the real gods. Do you accept my challenge? My gods will act through me, yours through you. Or would you prefer to concede defeat now and allow these poor folk to begin working immediately to save their tarnished souls?"
"Tiolanthe, destroy him!" Venessi raised her fleshy arms, then gestured toward Tarscenian with a flourish. "Destroy them both'."
The observers took in a breath and held it-all but Tarscenian. He cocked his head like a bird viewing the curious movements of an insect. After a time, Venessi low shy;ered her arms and smoothed her dress. She looked flushed but stubborn. "My god speaks when he chooses, not when heretics demand," she said primly.
Tarscenian set Hederick upon the ground without com shy;ment. The priest held his hands skyward and shouted, "Omalthea the Motherlord! Sauvay of the blessed revenge! Cadithal, Ferae, Zeshun! Bring hope to this village! The people here long to know you, to feel your approbation. If you are loving gods, give them the sign they so desper shy;ately need!" He swung his hands down and out to the sides.
Fire danced around him in a ring, leaping between him and the watchers. "Show them your power!" Tarscenian demanded. "Show them that you, unlike their false god, are not afraid to demonstrate your force to those who would
believe." The fire ebbed and surged. Then it vaulted over the heads of the people and encircled them. Flame crack shy;led.
Tarscenian gestured, and the blaze died. "The Seeker gods are prepared to accept you, people of Garlund. Renounce this false deity."
"No!" Sweat beaded Venessi's red face as she hurled a desperate warning at the villagers. "This is a test, you fools! Can't you see that as soon as you accept this cheat's words, you are through? Has my work been for naught? Have you learned nothing?"
The people seemed barely to hear her. Tarscenian said quietly, "My New Gods have provided further proof, Gar-lunders. Open your storehouses. At my words, they are full."
"But they are empty," one man faltered. "We've been rationing--"
"No longer. Seeker gods provide for their faithful. Open your storehouses, people of Garlund. Behold your new riches."
Venessi's eyes bulged, and she made a choking sound. As always when she was having a vision, she fell to her knees and groveled in the dust. "Tiolanthe, help me!" she cried.
But this time, the villagers paid her no heed. They plucked the keys from her waist, unlocked the swinging doors of the storehouses, and gaped at enough food to feed the village ten times over.
"Praise the New Gods!" cried one scrawny woman. The crowd cheered and surged forward, filling their arms, aprons, and pockets with much-needed foodstuffs.
Tarscenian directed his next words to Venessi. His gray eyes were sympathetic. "You may keep your house, Venessi. I will take up residence in the prayer house. My duty is to tutor the villagers in the true religion. Especially brave, wise Hederick." He patted the boy's shoulder.
"Hederick will be released from field work. He is too frail for coarse labor, anyway. His talents are more cerebral. He will be my assistant."
Venessi watched with eyes like stones. Silently swear shy;ing retribution on the evil child who had brought about her downfall, she returned to her house. She remained there, closeted behind locked doors, for four days, while the grateful Garlunders feasted and celebrated.
* * * * *
"… and Sauvay, Zeshun, Cadithal, Ferae, and Omal-thea," Hederick finished, anxiously watching Tarscenian's face for sign of approval.
The priest nodded. "You're a quick learner, son-you know both pantheons and their histories by heart, and your prayers are wonders of rhetoric. Your gift of words will stand you in good stead, should you ever consider joining the priestly orders." Tarscenian reached for a wooden tray that held a half-eaten loaf of bread and a porcelain tub filled with soft butter. "Another portion of this blessed bread?" he asked.
Hederick nodded eagerly, grateful for the words of praise and the attention he received from Tarscenian. The boy, who had seldom known kindness before the arrival of the Seeker priest, had become the man's near-constant attendant, caring for his quarters and assisting him at the services the villagers willingly attended.
The priest had transformed the dilapidated prayer house into a home. A braided rug concealed the dirt floor, and long, flat cushions lay on the pair of benches. A tile-topped table held the tray and bread. A brazier heated the room, for the temperature grew brisk at night, although the days were still stifling. Tarscenian led daily worship just outside the prayer house, much as Con had years ago, but Tarscenian's performances lacked Con's wrath and threats of doom, holding instead the promise of full bel shy;lies and better times.
If Tarscenian were the messenger of gods, he was the most genial messenger the village had seen. Certainly, he lectured on sin and redemption, but he also instructed the villagers on how to brew ale and urged them to drink it with each meal. It was a gift from the New Gods to aid the digestion, he said. He sang songs until the shutters rat shy;tled. And he drew children to him with the enthusiasm of his embraces and the freedom with which he dispensed sweets from the deep pockets of his brown robe.
In addition, he ordered one of the villagers, Jeniv Synd, to make Hederick some new leggings and a loose over-shirt with decorations of embroidery and shiny stones, endearing himself even further to the impressionable boy.
And Tarscenian performed miracles daily-innocent-looking tricks that ended in a scarlet explosion or in a rab shy;bit appearing in his cupped hands. He told villagers these miracles were signs that the Seeker gods approved of the Garlunders.
One way to impress the Seeker gods, Tarscenian reminded everyone, was to be generous with the reli shy;gion's holy men and women. As gifts began to pile up in file prayer house, Hederick grew worried. He had nothing to give of his own but his new clothes.
Tarscenian ordered feasts held regularly to fete the New Gods. For the first time, the people of the village began to lose their gaunt appearance. Yet not all the villagers, it seemed, were happy. Those who had been favorites of Venessi would grumble whenever Tarscenian was out of earshot.
"It's not right," Jeniv Synd told her friend, Kel'ta, as they watched Tarscenian lead evening services one night. Hederick, leaning against the side of his mother's house, out of sight of the two women, caught the words.
Kel'ta nodded at Jeniv. "Lady Venessi kneels in prayer from dawn to dusk. She never wavers in her faith. She is a true holy woman."
"This Tarscenian says she is a fake, but he suffers her to remain in Garlund," Jeniv muttered. "Were she seer of a false god, wouldn't he expel her? Her holiness rebukes his tricks and lies."
Hederick started to speak out in indignation, then thought better of it. There were other ways to deal with those who spoke against Tarscenian and the New Gods. That night at midnight, when even Venessi had left off praying and retired, he sneaked out of the village and, by the light of the moons, dug in the prairie soil. Even after ten years, Hederick could remember Ancilla's voice as she held a bulb before his face and warned, "Never, never eat this, Hederick. It looks like an onion, but it is poison. It's the macaba bulb. Don't even touch it!" Her injunction had lingered all these years. Now Hederick had need of this poison bulb.
He made little sound as he crept into the Synd house, keeping to the deepest shadows. He went to the pantry and selected a jar of spice-a common one, but not too common. There was no hurry. It would be eaten eventu shy;ally. It would be easier to maintain an air of innocence if Hederick did not know exactly when death would strike.
The next day, Tarscenian ordered two huge wagons built. Four men headed west a week later to sell the best of Garlund's wares in Caergoth. "The harvest is fast upon us," the priest said over the protests of Venessi's dwin shy;dling band of supporters. "We'll refill the storehouses. Garlund needs money, and it is time that the village gave to the Seeker church. I ordered the men to present half the proceeds to the church in Caergoth."
The dust from the pair of wagons had no sooner settled on the horizon than a scream came from the central vil shy;lage. Jeniv's friend, Kel'ta, stood in the doorway of the Synd house and bellowed until her face was ruddy. "Jeniv is dead!"
Jeniv's husband, Santrev, pushed past Kel'ta and rushed to his wife's side. Jeniv's body was contorted, her face twisted beneath tangled blond hair. The skin about her mouth was discolored, as though flames had touched her lips. Venessi shoved past them all, fell to her knees, and began to pray to Tiolanthe. Half the crowd joined her; the other half gawked and exclaimed.
Tarscenian touched Kel'ta's shoulder. "What hap shy;pened?" he asked.
"I don't know," she wailed, and pulled away. "We spent the morning at my house, gardening. Then Jeniv went home to prepare lunch. I came to borrow eggs and found her like this." Kel'ta broke into fresh tears.
Tarscenian cleared everyone away but Venessi, Santrev Synd, and Hederick. He intoned the Seekers' Prayer of the Passing Spirit. "Great Omalthea, accept the commitment of this guiltless soul. Gather her to your breast and com shy;fort her. Jeniv Synd is free of the pain of this world. Com shy;fort her loved ones, and help us remember that we, too, await this fate. Gather this soul and make ready for all others to follow. For there ever will be more."
Hederick sat frozen as he contemplated Tarscenian's words. What could the prayer be but a secret command to him to do more?
The Seeker priest must be aware of the sacrifice Heder shy;ick had made-knew he had taken the life of one of the enemies of the New Gods-and clearly approved! What could the last lines of his prayer be but an order to con shy;tinue to silence those who would oppose the priest?
"I hear," Hederick whispered. "I shall prevail."