Heaven's Needle by Liane Merciel Page A

solaros, learning the rhythms of village life and developing an understanding of the people they were meant to serve. The Knights of the Sun did not always serve the annovair —their gifts were often needed too urgently else-where—but all the Illuminers did, teaching and tending the commonfolk and learning from them in turn. The annovair strengthened the bond between the faith and the people. For most, it was a happy memory. Oralia had delighted in hers.
    Was that why he wanted her to take this assignment? For the memory of her sister’s happiness? Asharre narrowed her eyes, wondering, but Thierras’ face revealed nothing.
    â€œThe mountain roads are wild and infested with bandits,” he continued. “I don’t anticipate serious trouble, but I would like my Blessed to reach Carden Vale safely. Heradion will escort them, but he is young himself. I’d feel more confident if you went as well. Would you be willing to accompany them?”
    Asharre did not answer quickly. She had grown tired of her ghosts, yes, but traveling with newly sworn Illuminers might reawaken them as easily as it put them to rest.
    What was the harm, though? It would not be an especially long journey, or a hard one. She could always leave if she wanted; she was not beholden to Thierras or his goddess. And there was nothing to hold her here. “I’ll go.”
    â€œThank you,” said the High Solaros.
    Heradion was waiting by the great doors when she left the study. He followed her out wordlessly, warned into silence by the look on her face. Outside the Dome Asharre hesitated, unsure whether she wanted to go back to the gymnasium or into Cailan. The city was not hers, would never be home, but it was familiar and, at the moment, she wanted to be away from Celestians.
    â€œI knew her,” Heradion said, unexpectedly, as Asharre stood undecided on the street. The dying sunlight caught his hair, brightening it almost to the fiery copper of Oralia’s. “Your sister. Not very well, but we met a few times. She was years ahead of me, but the Burnt Knight was my hadriel and they were friends. It was a blessing to have known her.”
    That was more than she wanted to hear. “I need a drink,” Asharre muttered.
    â€œI know just the place.”
    T HE W HITE H OUND, SHE HAD TO admit, was a good choice. Located near the city’s north-facing Sun Gate, it was far enough from the main road to avoid travelers’ dust and clamor, but close enough to draw their custom. The inn was two stories of whitewashed stone topped by glazed blue tile. Its window boxes were bare but for frosted dirt, but later in the year they would hold fragrant basil and mint.
    Asharre had stopped in a few times, but, as Blessed wereforbidden wine or beer and she disliked being parted from her sister, it had been a year or more since she’d darkened its doorstep. “How did you know this place?” she asked as they approached.
    Heradion shrugged. He was not as young as she’d initially guessed. Closer to twenty than fifteen, if not a little older. “Rich friends.”
    She wasn’t in the mood to deal with a crowd. “Will they be here?”
    â€œDoubtful. We only come here to play cards, and it’s not Godsday.”
    Asharre snorted. “You play cards on Godsday?”
    â€œBest time to do it. All the pious people are at services, so there’s no one to look down their noses at you. I’m not Blessed; I’m allowed my sins. And I must say, right now, a tall mug of Tarrybuck brown sounds like a good one.”
    â€œAgreed.”
    Only half the common room was full. This early in the year, few merchants were on the road, and farmers were busy turning the fields before spring planting. They had their choice of tables, so Asharre picked one that commanded a view of the door and set her chair’s back to the wall. It was a little chill so far from the fire, but the hearth was