Hederick The Theocrat Read Online Free PDF

prairie pheasant, stuffed with sage, disappeared from
     fired-clay platters as though it had taken flight. With it went golden squash dotted with
     honey, thick bread slathered with butter, and streams of fresh milk. Despite the funereal
     aspect of the adults, some of the children chattered and played. Seated at the table in
     their cleanest work clothes, the men paused often to gaze reverently at Tarscenian. He
     occupied a grand chair at the head of tables that were spread with cloths newly
     embroidered with Seeker symbols. He'd given up his travel-stained brown robe for a new one
     of fine linen, lovingly stitched by one of the women. Venessi had been coaxed from her
     house for the funeral and dinner. Tarscenian sat next to her but paid scant attention to
     her. The rest of the villagers did the same. Venessi's champions had been silenced.
     Hederick's mother looked so forlorn that the boy went over next to her, taking a free
     chair on the side away from Tarscenian. She didn't look at him, even when Hederick touched
     her hand.
    Her gaze seemed never to leave her lap. She picked at her cold pheasant and sipped a glass
     of wine without seeming to care. “Mother?” Hederick whispered. “Leave me alone,” she
     answered vehemently. “This is all your fault. You and your evil nature.” “Mother, you are
     just being stubborn.”
    “You have abandoned Tiolanthe. You brought this infidel here.” Hederick patted her hand
     and imitated Tarscenian's tone. “You were mistaken about Tiolanthe, Mother. But you have
     another chance, thanks to Tarscenian. Surely Omalthea will forgive you if you beg her
     understanding.” Her head came up. “Forgive me? Forgive me? I should seek forgiveness from
     a goddess who does not exist?” Hederick's breath caught. Her eyes held horror and hate.
     “Heathen boy!” she whispered, and caught his arm with a clawlike hand. Just then a sound
     came from the far end of the table. A ripple of started exclamations made its way through
     the villagers. One man stood up, knocking his chair over, and froze. “You” he choked out.
     Hederick's gaze went to Tarscenian's face. The priest's expression flashed from thoughtful
     to surprised to panic-stricken, then to awestruck. It's like he's seen a real god,
     Hederick thought. The boy swiveled toward the foot of the table. Tarscenian was right. A
     goddess had appeared in Gar-lund. Her grass-green eyes glittered like the wings of a
     dragonfly. Her hair, the hue of ripe wheat, curled and swirled around her head like a mass
     of golden snakes. She wore a robe, but not of the indigo or gray homespun type favored by
     the Garlund women. This was pure white, made of some slippery- looking material that
     Hederick later learned was silk. Turquoise and green stitching glittered at the neck and
     wrists. A twisted silken rope the color of a summer cloud cinched the robe at her slender
     waist and fell to tassels at her ankles. Then Hederick knew her. It was Ancilla.

Dragonlance - Villains 4 - Hederick The Theocrat
    Chapter 2
    Hederick's sister was nearly thirty, but she looked young and ravishing. Slender fingers
     curved around the gnarled head of a worn wooden staff. Struck dumb, the villagers studied
     her. “ 'Cilia?” Hederick finally whispered. The murmur resounded like a shout.
    She closed her eyes, moved her lips in soundless words, then turned and looked at him. Her
     wide mouth parted in a familiar smile. “I told you I'd come back for you, Hederick,” she
     said softly. “I surely had not expected that my little brother would become a man while I
     was gone.”
    As Ancilla glided toward him, Venessi's nails dug into his arm. Hederick sat motionless
     and did not move to grasp Ancilla's proffered hand. Tarscenian cleared his throat, half
     stood up, and spoke rustily. “You're Ancilla, I gather.” He spoke his own name. “I am a
     Seeker priest.”
    Hederick's sister turned cold green