Blood of the Fold

With dazed effort, he drew the Sword of Truth from its scabbard, sending its soft, clear ring around the dark room. Richard planted the point on the floor and with both hands held the hilt to his forehead, letting the wrath inundate him. He felt its fury storm through his soul, and hoped it would be enough.

From a dim corner of his mind, Richard knew he was in a dance with death, and this time his sword couldn't save him. He also knew he had no choice.

CHAPTER 21

Sister Philippa made the most of her already ample height as she stiffened her back while managing to look down her thin, straight nose without making it seem as if she were really looking down her nose. But she was.

“Surely, Prelate, you have not considered this matter thoroughly enough. Perhaps if you were to reflect on it a bit more you would realize that three thousand years of results attests to the need."

With her elbow on the table, Verna rested her chin in the heel of her loose fist while scanning through a report, making it impossible to look at her without seeing the gold sunburst-patterned ring of office. She glanced up just to make sure Sister Philippa was, in fact, looking at her.

"Thank you, Sister, for your wise advice, but I have already considered the matter at length. There is no need to put any more digging into a dry well; it just makes you thirstier, which raises your hopes, but not any water."

Sister Philippa's dark eyes and exotic features rarely showed emotion, but Verna detected a tightening in the muscles in her narrow jaw.

"But, Prelate… we won't be able to ascertain if a young man is progressing properly, or has learned enough to be released from his Rada'Han. It's the only way."

Verna grimaced at the report she was reading. She set it aside for later action and gave her full attention to her advisor. "How old are you, Sister?"

Sister Philippa's dark gaze didn't waver. "Four hundred seventy-nine, Prelate."

Verna had to admit to herself that she felt a bit of envy. The woman looked hardly older than she, yet she was in fact on the order of three hundred years older. The twenty-odd years away from the palace's spell had cost Verna time she could never recover. She would never have the life span to learn what this woman would.

"How many of those years at the Palace of the Prophets?"

"Four hundred seventy, Prelate." The inflection on the title was hard to detect, unless one had been listening for it. Verna had been listening.

“So, you are saying, then, that the Creator has granted you a span of four hundred and seventy years to learn his work, to work with and teach young men to control their gift and become wizards, and in all that time, you have failed to be able to come to a determination of the nature of your students?"

"Well, no, Prelate, that's not exactly what — "

"Are you trying to tell me, Sister, that a whole palace full of Sisters of the Light are not smart enough to determine if a young man, who has been under our charge and tutelage for near to two hundred years, is ready for advancement, without subjecting him to a brutal test of pain? Do you have so little faith in the Sisters?

In the Creator's wisdom in choosing us to do this work? Are you trying to tell me that the Creator chose us, gave us, collectively, thousands of years of experience, and we are still too stupid to do the work?"

"I think that perhaps the Prelate is — "

"Permission denied. It's an obscene use of the Rada'Han, giving that kind of pain. It can tear the fabric of a person's mind. Why, young men have even died in the test.

"You go tell those Sisters that I expect them to come up with a strategy for accomplishing the task without blood, vomit, or screaming. You might even suggest they try something revolutionary, like… oh, I don't know, maybe talking to the young men? Unless the Sisters think they would be outwitted, in which case I would like them to admit as much to me in a report, for the record."

Sister Philippa stood silent a moment, probably considering the worth of further arguing. Reluctantly, she at last bowed. "Very wise, Prelate. Thank you for enlightening me."

She turned to leave, but Verna called her back. "Sister, I know how you feel. I was taught the same as you, and believed as you. A young man of a mere twenty-odd years taught me how wrong I had been. Sometimes the Creator chooses to bring His light to us in ways we don't expect, but He does expect us to be ready to receive His wisdom when it's presented to us."

"You speak of young Richard?"