stood up and brushed ineffectually at the chill mud soaking through his pants. Perhaps since the girls could not inherit Lenhe’ayn, he would take them back to the House of Moons, where they would at least be with other children while the Council bickered over what should become of their shattered lives. He could count on Haemas to take good care of them.
Slowly the priest circled the towering pyre, his expression solemn. Kevisson glanced through the crowd for faces he knew, but the assemblage of mourners seemed to be mostly chierra servants. One of the younger Castillans had come as a representative, since Myriel’s mother had been a Castillan daughter, but there were only a few other Kashi sprinkled about, none of whom he recognized. Lenhe’ayn had been a solitary House these last few years since the old Lord’s death.
Together, chierra and Kashi waited in heavy silence as the priest paced the perimeter the traditional five times, one for each appearance of the Light that had changed the people of this world, transforming them from mere humans into Kashi and chierra, rulers and ruled. His slow, measured steps through the mud were the only sound, except for the muffled sobs of the household staff and the occasional distant roll of thunder.
After the fifth and final time, he stopped before the two girls and stared down at them from under thick eyebrows. “Adrina Castillan Lenhe and Kisa Castillan Lenhe, are you the only remaining kin of this woman and this boy?”
The younger child, Adrina, only clutched at Enissa’s skirts, staring back at the tall, imposing priest with tearful eyes, but the older girl dipped her chin in a faint nod.
“Then it falls to you to light their way into the next world.” Father Orcado picked up a wet, unlit torch from the bottom of the pyre and thrust it toward her. “You must kindle the flame in the ancient Kashi fashion so they may be sent on.”
Kevisson raised an eyebrow as young Kisa took the torch, obliged to use both hands to support its weight. Orcado couldn’t mean that! He glanced around at the crowd of onlookers in surprise. Even an adult would have to use an inordinate amount of energy to light that thing in such heavy rain, and there was no way to know how much training this child had been given.
Kisa lifted her pale face to the cold rain and closed her eyes. Her fair brows furrowed and he felt her concentrating on the old ritual used to call forth the spark sacred to the Kashi’an, the People of the Light. Holding his breath, he monitored the buildup of energy in her mind, felt her tense to focus and pour it forth, and knew at the last second that it would not be enough.
The end of the torch sizzled, then smoked as the soaking rain smothered her spark. The priest shook his head, his broad face impassive. “You must try again. They can be sent on in no other way.”
Kisa’s mouth tightened, then she closed her eyes again. Kevisson felt the heat of Enissa’s anger and found it almost matched his own. Before the priest could forbid it, he laid his hand on the back of Kisa’s neck. Concentrate, he said into her mind. This time you will get it.
The young girl trembled underneath his hand, but she went through the litany again, the familiar words from The Book of Light taught to all Kashi children as one of the first lessons learned in the mindarts.
Fire is the first aspect of the Light. I will respect and tend it just as I would the Lord of Light himself.
Her small body tensed with the effort of her concentration. Kevisson found himself reciting the words in his mind along with her. Feel the heat ... see its brightness ... hear the crackle ... smell the smoke.
The image of fire formed in his mind just as he, and indeed all Kashi, had been taught since time beyond knowing. He felt the warmth of flames bathing his rain-chilled face, saw the crackling yellow-orange fire in his inner vision, smelled the acridness of smoke curling through the damp air.
Take the
Slowly the priest circled the towering pyre, his expression solemn. Kevisson glanced through the crowd for faces he knew, but the assemblage of mourners seemed to be mostly chierra servants. One of the younger Castillans had come as a representative, since Myriel’s mother had been a Castillan daughter, but there were only a few other Kashi sprinkled about, none of whom he recognized. Lenhe’ayn had been a solitary House these last few years since the old Lord’s death.
Together, chierra and Kashi waited in heavy silence as the priest paced the perimeter the traditional five times, one for each appearance of the Light that had changed the people of this world, transforming them from mere humans into Kashi and chierra, rulers and ruled. His slow, measured steps through the mud were the only sound, except for the muffled sobs of the household staff and the occasional distant roll of thunder.
After the fifth and final time, he stopped before the two girls and stared down at them from under thick eyebrows. “Adrina Castillan Lenhe and Kisa Castillan Lenhe, are you the only remaining kin of this woman and this boy?”
The younger child, Adrina, only clutched at Enissa’s skirts, staring back at the tall, imposing priest with tearful eyes, but the older girl dipped her chin in a faint nod.
“Then it falls to you to light their way into the next world.” Father Orcado picked up a wet, unlit torch from the bottom of the pyre and thrust it toward her. “You must kindle the flame in the ancient Kashi fashion so they may be sent on.”
Kevisson raised an eyebrow as young Kisa took the torch, obliged to use both hands to support its weight. Orcado couldn’t mean that! He glanced around at the crowd of onlookers in surprise. Even an adult would have to use an inordinate amount of energy to light that thing in such heavy rain, and there was no way to know how much training this child had been given.
Kisa lifted her pale face to the cold rain and closed her eyes. Her fair brows furrowed and he felt her concentrating on the old ritual used to call forth the spark sacred to the Kashi’an, the People of the Light. Holding his breath, he monitored the buildup of energy in her mind, felt her tense to focus and pour it forth, and knew at the last second that it would not be enough.
The end of the torch sizzled, then smoked as the soaking rain smothered her spark. The priest shook his head, his broad face impassive. “You must try again. They can be sent on in no other way.”
Kisa’s mouth tightened, then she closed her eyes again. Kevisson felt the heat of Enissa’s anger and found it almost matched his own. Before the priest could forbid it, he laid his hand on the back of Kisa’s neck. Concentrate, he said into her mind. This time you will get it.
The young girl trembled underneath his hand, but she went through the litany again, the familiar words from The Book of Light taught to all Kashi children as one of the first lessons learned in the mindarts.
Fire is the first aspect of the Light. I will respect and tend it just as I would the Lord of Light himself.
Her small body tensed with the effort of her concentration. Kevisson found himself reciting the words in his mind along with her. Feel the heat ... see its brightness ... hear the crackle ... smell the smoke.
The image of fire formed in his mind just as he, and indeed all Kashi, had been taught since time beyond knowing. He felt the warmth of flames bathing his rain-chilled face, saw the crackling yellow-orange fire in his inner vision, smelled the acridness of smoke curling through the damp air.
Take the
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