deception and lies must have aged her prematurely.
Among the worshippers, Hannes stood silent and uncomfortable, listening as Ur-Sikara Lukai invoked chants and read passages
from Urec’s Log. Though Hannes pretended to listen, his mind was closed down. He recited a litany of his own prayers and quotations
from Aiden to protect him from the heresy surrounding him.
As a special commemoration of her visit to Ishalem, the ur-sikara presented an ancient medallion of gold inset with chips
of lapis lazuli and encircled by small topaz stones. She held it up, and the trophy gleamed in the light of the candles and
braziers around the altar. Lukai was rewarded with a chorus of awed gasps. “This amulet was worn by Urec himself on his voyage.
He gave it as a gift to his wife, Fashia, upon their arrival in Uraba. It belongs here, at the altar of our prime church.”
With obvious reverence, the sikara placed it between two massive candles, each as thick as Hannes’s thigh, then spread the
heavy golden chain on a blue velvet pad in the center of the altar. “Ondun Himself gave this amulet to His son. And now we
give it to the church.”
Hannes narrowed his intense gaze. If Ondun had indeed created that amulet, He would not want it to remain in the hands of
heretics.
Throughout the remainder of the service, Hannes wrestled with his thoughts, trying to decide what he should do. Outside once
more after the service’s conclusion, Hannes crouched at the mouth of an alley, leaning against the whitewashed wall of a potter’s
shop that had closed for the church services. Wrapped in his thoughts as well as cloaking rags, Hannes gave little consideration
to the picture he must present.
A rich Urecari merchant walked past, still glowing from the service. The man paused when he saw Hannes, reached into the purse
at his waist, and retrieved three
cuars.
He tossed the silver coins at Hannes. “These are for you, my brother. God has hope for all of us. Your life, too, will shine
with the blessings of Urec.”
Hannes muttered automatic thanks to the man and picked up the
cuars. With the blessings of Urec.
As soon as the man was out of sight, he cast the coins into the alley shadows in disgust, afraid they might burn his skin.
6
Calay, Saedran District
With the thick curtains drawn and the candles lit (though it was bright daylight), Aldo na-Curic sat at a table in the main
room of his family’s house in Calay. He faced his nemesis, his teacher, his tester. He knew what was at stake.
Aldo, a clever young Saedran man of eighteen, had always admired the gruff, stern elder. Sen Leo na-Hadra had a deep voice,
a lined face framed by a long thick mane of gray hair, and an equally thick gray beard. His pale blue eyes were fearsome,
and they did not blink as he leaned closer to Aldo and mercilessly fired questions, one after another. “Name the eleven main
Soeland islands, their villages, and the village leaders—in order from smallest to largest.”
Aldo did so without even blinking.
“List the nineteen coastal villages from Calay to Ishalem.”
“There are twenty-three coastal villages.”
Sen Leo smiled. That detail had been part of the test. “Then name all twenty-three.”
Aldo did so. This was too easy.
The old teacher wore dark, shapeless robes that masked his body. Aldo suspected the older man was somewhat heavyset, but he
could never know for sure. Sen Leo slid a blank piece of paper forward, gave Aldo a lead stylus. “Now draw, as exactly as
you can, all the stars in the Loom as seen from far Lahjar.”
Aldo had expected questions like that. Taking up the stylus, he quickly made marks, needing no tools, estimating the angles
and distances with an expert eye. Lahjar was the city farthest south on the outer coast of Uraba; no known settlements lay
beyond, since reefs and intense heat blocked the passage of ships. Aldo had never seen the constellations from that distant
corner of
Among the worshippers, Hannes stood silent and uncomfortable, listening as Ur-Sikara Lukai invoked chants and read passages
from Urec’s Log. Though Hannes pretended to listen, his mind was closed down. He recited a litany of his own prayers and quotations
from Aiden to protect him from the heresy surrounding him.
As a special commemoration of her visit to Ishalem, the ur-sikara presented an ancient medallion of gold inset with chips
of lapis lazuli and encircled by small topaz stones. She held it up, and the trophy gleamed in the light of the candles and
braziers around the altar. Lukai was rewarded with a chorus of awed gasps. “This amulet was worn by Urec himself on his voyage.
He gave it as a gift to his wife, Fashia, upon their arrival in Uraba. It belongs here, at the altar of our prime church.”
With obvious reverence, the sikara placed it between two massive candles, each as thick as Hannes’s thigh, then spread the
heavy golden chain on a blue velvet pad in the center of the altar. “Ondun Himself gave this amulet to His son. And now we
give it to the church.”
Hannes narrowed his intense gaze. If Ondun had indeed created that amulet, He would not want it to remain in the hands of
heretics.
Throughout the remainder of the service, Hannes wrestled with his thoughts, trying to decide what he should do. Outside once
more after the service’s conclusion, Hannes crouched at the mouth of an alley, leaning against the whitewashed wall of a potter’s
shop that had closed for the church services. Wrapped in his thoughts as well as cloaking rags, Hannes gave little consideration
to the picture he must present.
A rich Urecari merchant walked past, still glowing from the service. The man paused when he saw Hannes, reached into the purse
at his waist, and retrieved three
cuars.
He tossed the silver coins at Hannes. “These are for you, my brother. God has hope for all of us. Your life, too, will shine
with the blessings of Urec.”
Hannes muttered automatic thanks to the man and picked up the
cuars. With the blessings of Urec.
As soon as the man was out of sight, he cast the coins into the alley shadows in disgust, afraid they might burn his skin.
6
Calay, Saedran District
With the thick curtains drawn and the candles lit (though it was bright daylight), Aldo na-Curic sat at a table in the main
room of his family’s house in Calay. He faced his nemesis, his teacher, his tester. He knew what was at stake.
Aldo, a clever young Saedran man of eighteen, had always admired the gruff, stern elder. Sen Leo na-Hadra had a deep voice,
a lined face framed by a long thick mane of gray hair, and an equally thick gray beard. His pale blue eyes were fearsome,
and they did not blink as he leaned closer to Aldo and mercilessly fired questions, one after another. “Name the eleven main
Soeland islands, their villages, and the village leaders—in order from smallest to largest.”
Aldo did so without even blinking.
“List the nineteen coastal villages from Calay to Ishalem.”
“There are twenty-three coastal villages.”
Sen Leo smiled. That detail had been part of the test. “Then name all twenty-three.”
Aldo did so. This was too easy.
The old teacher wore dark, shapeless robes that masked his body. Aldo suspected the older man was somewhat heavyset, but he
could never know for sure. Sen Leo slid a blank piece of paper forward, gave Aldo a lead stylus. “Now draw, as exactly as
you can, all the stars in the Loom as seen from far Lahjar.”
Aldo had expected questions like that. Taking up the stylus, he quickly made marks, needing no tools, estimating the angles
and distances with an expert eye. Lahjar was the city farthest south on the outer coast of Uraba; no known settlements lay
beyond, since reefs and intense heat blocked the passage of ships. Aldo had never seen the constellations from that distant
corner of
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