Starfist: Kingdom's Fury Read Online Free PDF Page B

south, toward New Salem. But he had quaked as he crouched there, perspiring, limbs weak with fear.
    That had been two days ago. Now, Zechariah arose and walked back into the cave. "Rise up!" he shouted at the people crouching about their cook fires. "Let us seek Divine guidance." Slowly the others gathered around him. When they were assembled, he began, "I am reminded, friends, of the 119th Psalm of David, Verse Ninety-two, ‘Unless thy Law had been my Delights, then had I perished in my Affliction.’ We have been sorely afflicted, friends." Murmurs of agreement arose from the others. "We have been afflicted because we strayed from the Law and allowed vain and foolish men to lead us into evil.
    "But friends, we must have a clear and strong persuasion of a future state. We must be heartily willing to wait for the fulfillment of all the promises of the Covenant of God until our arrival at that world, where we shall have all the spiritual blessings of the heavenly places bestowed upon us. We should be content and patiently and cheerfully allow of it that we are willing to let our crucifixion go on with a perpetual succession of pains without any prospect of any relief, but at and by the hour of our death."
    Zechariah looked at the faces around him in the flickering firelight. There were tears in some eyes. "Let us pray." He bowed his head. Silently and earnestly, he begged God to favor him with a Particular Faith, a sign of prophecy granted to the faithful, an intimation perhaps transmitted by an angel, that a particular prayer would be answered. He begged the Lord to give him some sign of what they should do.
    After a full two minutes of silent prayer, Zechariah raised his head and looked around the cave. "Well?" he asked, looking into the assembled faces to see if the Lord might have favored someone else with a Faith. Some smiled, some nodded their heads, but there was no Faith there today.
    "That was a fine sermon, Zechariah," one of the men said.
    Zechariah felt better. Prayer, even prayer that was not answered immediately, was good for him. The small cooking fires glowed dimly. The survivors had managed to salvage much of the personal belongings they'd taken with them after the schism on the night of the disaster, so they were not without some food and clothing and tools.
    To reduce the volume of smoke from the fires, they used a native plant whose roots burned slowly and generated little smoke. Their meager food supply was supplemented with the small lizardlike creatures that abounded in the caves.
    Silently, Consort ladled Zechariah a small bowl of thin stew, which he sampled halfheartedly. But he finished the stew quickly, more hungry than he had thought, and set the empty bowl down. "We need some salt to cover up the taste of this grit."
    "And running water," Consort added. Since they did not have a running water supply in the caves, their eating utensils had to be cleaned with sand from the floor, so all the food was gritty. The water they drank came from a tiny, intermittent trickle far back in the depths of the cave. The flow was precarious, and the spring water had had to be rationed. No one had bathed in a week. "Zach," she continued contemplatively, "I never knew how ‘rich’ we were, back in New Salem. We had good food, a roof over our heads, running water . . ." her voice trailed off.
    "And the Lord was with us," Zechariah added automatically. Then he started and a strange expression came over his face.
    "Zach! What is it?" Consort reached out a hand and laid it on her husband's shoulder.
    Zechariah stood. "Connie, it is time for us to go back to the camp." He turned from his fire and strode to the center of the cave. "Listen, everyone! Come to me. I am going back to the camp. Who will go with me?"
    The others shuffled into a rough semicircle around where Zechariah stood. All remained silent for a moment, the firelight casting huge shadows upon the cavern walls and flickering over their impassive faces. "The