Hauck - Steadfast: Birth of Saints Book Three

For my biggest fans:

my dad and stepdad,

both gone too soon.

Fifteen Years Ago

Santabe had long ceased to marvel at the way the stones of the small room had been cut so square and matched together so perfectly. She had never been in a place built of anything but wood until entering the Great Palace of Dal this morning with her mother and aunts, and she hadnt expected to stay more than the few minutes it took to read her augury.

The priest who put her in this bare room of naught but stone after her reading had instructed she remain on her knees and ruminate on her fate until fetched. Shed dutifully remained on her knees, but, after what seemed like hours of suffering, had allowed herself to lean backward on her toes. Her lower limbs went numb and dead, but she spared her knees the same agony.

Obey, had been the last word spoken by her mother before she stepped into line for the augury to be cast.

Obey in measure, had been the wiser advice from her favorite aunt.

The latch on the doorthe only piece of wood in the roomclicked, and Santabe shot up onto her knees so quickly, she lost her balance and toppled onto her side.

Is this how you show your respects to Dal? an angry voice demanded. Lying at your ease?

Santabe ducked her head to avoid the strap aimed for her temple, and the blow landed on her bent neck with a snap. Pain radiated down her back. She struggled to surge upright, but her numb legs failed her, sending her crashing to the stone again. The strap hit her hip on its second strike. She sobbed.

Forbear, a new voice said. I have seen this before. The body failed; that doesnt mean the heart yielded.

The younger priest in his plain white robesimilar to the one Santabe woredrew back, taking his leather strap with him.

A man with white hair so thin his bald pate shone through in spots limped forward. His priests robe was of white silksheer and fineand it clung to every lump of his portly form. He leaned upon a cane of a white material like bone tipped with gold. You know who I am? he asked.

The cane crafted from the horn of the einhornthe same material used to create Diviners, the slim weapons in the shape of a short staff most priests carriedtold her the answer. Only one man was entrusted with such a priceless treasureat over three cubits in length and over a tenth of a cubit in diameter, the horn of his cane could have made a half dozen Diviners.

Santabe swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in her throat. Master Jemkinbu, she said dutifully, finally taking in the gold earrings in the shape of the sun in each of his ears, proclaiming him of the highest priesthood.

So very few priests earned two earrings. Jemkinbu and a few others she could count on one hand. She knew why Jemkinbu had earned his second: his skill with einhorn. The Master had been carving Diviners from horn since he was an acolyte. His skill was legendary. It was said he could produce the most Diviners from every piece of einhorn. He could see combinations and patterns no other priest could discern, as if Dal entered his dreams and guided his hand. With Diviners classified as the most important and rarest instruments of Dal, his skill was valued more than kingship.

Though a Diviner couldnt kill until it was soaked in sacrificial blood, nothing of the horns was wasted. Even the tiny slivers of einhorn were sold to the very rich to place in the mouths of the recently dead, to ease their passing to the next life.

Her eyes leaked tears as Santabe grabbed for support from a belt she no longer wore. Chosen of Dal wore no bindings on their bodies. All her clothes would have been burned. When the augury landed favorably at her feet, she hadnt even been allowed a final good-bye with her mother before being whisked away to this room. Now, her legs throbbed in such agony as blood returned that she could barely think.

The lesser priest deposited a stool on the floor and before he left, Santabe noticed that, unlike an Enforcer, who sought blasphemy among the populace, this priest was likely a clerk of some kind, and thus not important enough to wear a Diviner, let alone an earring. He departed, closing the door behind him.

Master Jemkinbu sat, the hem of his robe lifting to show a fine network of ropey veins about his ankles. Do you know why you are here?

Santabe gasped, forming her hands into fists so as not to clutch at her burning feet and shins. Master Jemkinbu leaned his cane against his knee and waited.

She stared at the cane, seeking inspiration.

Men braved the wilds to the far north to live at the fishing village on the edge of the sea to hunt for einhorn, despite the fact that every few years, Kolifell village was wiped out by famine, disease, wolves, or the arrows of the tiny tree-loving natives who occupied that land. To find a horn was to add your name to the list of those honored by Dal and ensure your passage into the next lifeno one would take money for such treasure.

Through the swirl of pain, she put aside such random thoughts and fought back to earlier today in bits and flashes. The blue of the sky as shed walked with her family to the Great Palace of Dal. The long line of others whod celebrated their eleventh naming day of this life along with her and stood before the greatest altar of Dal. The priest casting the contents of bags of feathers, herbs, and pieces of bones on the stone at each childs feet. How the auguries had all looked the same to her as each child before her was dismissed. How at her turn a single piece of bone had landed on her left foot.

She looked up at Jemkinbu. Because the augury touched me, Honored One. Right after that moment, shed been stripped of her old clothing and redressed in front of an entire room of watching clerics of Dal. A shame she still felt in her soul.

Very good, child. And do you know our main mission?

To ensure the light of Dal is instilled in every heart, fills every mind, flows from every tongue, and to root out any who fail Him with blasphemy, she recited from rote memory. The unbearable tingling in her feet and legs eased enough that she could clamber ungracefully to her knees.

Swifter than she could have believed, the cane cracked across her shoulder. She cried out before she could stop herself.

Incomplete. That is our mission to the Children of Dal. What about our mission to Dal?

She grit her teeth and said, To stand ready when His eyes turn to this world again. To accept the joy of His presence unto ourselves. To provide the blood of the unworthy to Him? She tacked on the last in case the Master was expecting it. All knew blood drew Dals attention. Despite doing her best, she flinched, expecting another blow. But he just sat quietly, the cane resting in his hand.

Yes. That is correct, child. Every twenty-five hundred years, Dals immaculate eye rests upon this world again, and He purges us of the Glorious ones fit to travel to the next life... and also purges us of the Disgraced, sending them to the prior world with blood and pain. We stand in readiness of His coming, to ensure He finds the best of us. But there are deeper mysteries than this that you will learn as priestess to Dal.

The mysteries of Divinerswhite and red. Our hidden precepts that go deeper than what is shared with the Children of Dal. Why we keep Dal to ourselves and spare the world. Secrets that are told only to initiates. You are very favored, child.

She pondered his words dutifully, but had never seen a red Divinerthough the stories told that they returned life even as the white rods stole itbut right now her shoulder burned, as did the spot on her neck and hip. She couldnt care for talk of mysteries with this pain. Her mother had struck her but rarely since her ninth year in this life, and now Santabe feared this was just the beginning of the trial of her new life.