Hederick The Theocrat Read Online Free PDF Page B

eyes his way, but she had no time to reply. Venessi
     found her voice at that moment. Some of the old imperiousness returned as she snapped,
     “She's a witch, Tarscenian! I condemned her years ago. Send her away. She's evil.”
     Annoyance crossed Tarscenian's handsome face. He towered over Venessi. “Madam, this woman
     is your daughter. You seem to make a bad habit of casting off your children.”
    Venessi gestured excitedly. “She uses magic. Look at her! Is that the garb of a righteous
     woman?” Tarscenian stared at Ancilla like a thirsting man gazing at a spring. “Perhaps,”
     he finally said. The
    rumble returned to his voice. “Venessi, you are tolerated here solely because you are
     Hederick's mother. Be silent.” Venessi cast Ancilla a glance of pure hate and drove her
     nails deeper into Hederick's arm. Ancilla had been watching Tarscenian all the while. “I
     could destroy you easily, you know,” she said to him. “Your powers are nothing next to
     mine.”
    Tarscenian appeared unimpressed. “Your white robe tells me you're aligned with good. From
     what I've studied, such a one would not kill blindly. And I do have my gods to protect me,
     Ancilla.” They locked stares for what seemed an eternity. “The Seekers are misguided,” she
     said. 'There's always that possibility, with humans."
    “The Seeker gods are myths.” “Plenty of people believe in them, Ancilla.” “I have seen
     many like you,” she said quietly. “You offer poor folk hope, and then you abandon them.
     You glean them of everything of worldly value. They never realize it until you are gone.
     You are a charlatan.” “People with hope are not poor.” “But the hope is vacant!” Ancilla
     cried. Her green eyes flashed. “There are no Seeker gods!” “I believe in them,” Tarscenian
     repeated. “Of course,” Ancilla shot back. “They're making you rich, 'priest' ” The
     villagers watched, fascinated, their common minds comprehending little of the argument.
     They knew, though, that a condemned witch challenged their holy man, and it ought to be
     only a matter of moments before Omalthea herself would rise and slaughter the sorceress.
     “And your gods, Ancilla?” Tarscenian demanded. “Where are they while the world's spirit
     starves? Your Old Gods are the ultimate cause of this misery.” Ancilla said nothing.
     Tarscenian added, softly, “Are you a mage?” “I am.” Her chin was high and proud. “I
     studied for ten years and have at long last passed the Test.” “The Test!” a woman
     whispered. Villagers gasped. “Kill her!” another woman shouted, and others, encouraged by
     Venessi, took up the call. Tarscenian silenced them with an imperious gesture. “This woman
     is under my protectionat the moment.” He ignored Ancilla's faint laugh. “Ancilla,” he went
     on, “you wear the white robe openly. Such an outfit would cost you your life in most towns
     these days. Like the Knights of Solamnia, the mages of Krynn broke their promise to save
     the world from the Cataclysm. The people have plenty of reason to avenge that betrayal.
     Most mages are more circumspect nowadays.” Ancilla's pale brows rose over green eyes.
     “Your point?” “Why are you here, Ancilla?” “I might as well ask you that.” Gray eyes
     locked with green. Venessi's hand was so tight on Hederick's arm that blood trickled from
     half-moon cuts where her nails had broken the skin. He noticed it dimly, as though it were
     the blood of someone else. Ancilla stretched out her right hand; a mixture of blue dust
     and herbs lay in a small pile on her palm. “Bhazam illorian, sa oth od setherat,” she
     whispered. She closed her hand, then reopened it. The powder was gone. Instead, a perfect
     dragon sat immobile, the slender shaft of a lance seeming to grow right out of its body.
     Speckles of light glittered from colorless gemstones that covered its back. At first