Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

Asire

Nancy Asire is the author of four novels,

Twilight’s Kingdoms, Tears of Time, To Fall Like Stars,

and

Wizard Spawn

. She also has written short stories for the series anthologies

Heroes in Hell

and

Merovingen Nights,

and short stories for Mercedes Lackey’s anthologies

Flights of Fantasy

and

Sun in Glory

. She has lived in Africa and traveled the world, but now resides in Missouri with her cats and two vintage Corvairs.

THE evening service had ended and the night candle burned brightly on the altar. From the steps leading to the Temple, Pytor watched his fellow villagers as they went off to what would normally have been a well-earned meal after a long day in the fields. As priest of this small Temple for fifteen years now, he knew each of them as well as he knew his own kin. Unlike so many other priests, he had come home after being elevated from an acolyte to a fully practicing member of the Sunlord’s representatives on earth. Born in the village of Two Trees, he had returned, drawn by the quiet of the place and a family history that spanned generations. He had offered to come after the old priest who had served Two Trees since before he had been born had died. Not for him was the life some priests craved—cities and towns were too crowded, too noisy, too full of people who sought status and power. He was more than satisfied to minister to his villagers, people he had known since birth.

But as he watched the last of his neighbors leave the Temple, Pytor suddenly shivered, though the summer evening was far from cold. This evening, one of the most terrifying situations he had ever faced as a priest had loomed before him, one that could presage even more horrible times to come. But he had made his choice and now he must weather its outcome.

“Pytor.”

He glanced over his shoulder at his sister who waited for him to close the Temple for the night and join her for dinner. Sunset light revealed the concern on her face, the searching look in her eyes. He was going to have to tell her; he had no choice. She would find out soon enough.

Then what would she think of him? Would she see him as a failure? Less of a priest? And could he live with that?

“Selenna.” He smiled, turned and led the way back inside. Shutting the doors, he doffed his ceremonial robes, and led the way to the room that served as his residence. Attached to the back of the Temple, it was the only home he had known for fifteen years, a simple place that contained everything he owned in this world.

:Tell her,: that suddenly ever-present voice in his mind whispered. :You’ll have to tell her eventually and the best time to do it is now.:

“I’ll have dinner ready in a moment.” she said, bustling around with preparations for their meal. She glanced over her shoulder. “Take care of your cats first. You know they’re waiting for you.”

He smiled somewhat sheepishly. Not only his sister, but the villagers teased him unmercifully about his fondness for the feline kind. He had always loved cats, a love fostered, no doubt, by growing up surrounded by at least two or three cats living in and around the house, not to mention those that had taken up residence in the barn.

“Here,” Selenna said, extending a plate full of cold and finely chopped sausage left over from the midday meal. “Should keep ’em quiet ’til they go out mousing.”

Pytor took the extended plate, smiled his thanks, and opened the door to the yard behind the Temple. Sure enough, he was greeted by a group of his cats, their tails lifted in expectation. Here was Tom, the big brown- andwhite tabby; Puss, the all-white cat with green eyes shouldered forward, followed by the dainty little girl, Patches. And there, sitting back as if to say he was above all this pushing and shoving, was the newcomer. Pytor had named the recent arrival Sunshine, because he sported a coat of the oddest shade of gold, a color rare enough in these parts to have attracted attention. Sunshine looked up at him, the fading light turning his eyes into fiery points of topaz.

:Tell her now,: that voice whispered again. To set things right between you, she has to know.:

Pytor put down the plate and stepped back, letting the cats gather around their meal. Sunshine finally took his place at the plate, eating with a daintiness his companions lacked. There was something strange about that cat. Ever since he had wandered into the village several months ago, odd thoughts had filled Pytor’s head. Thoughts that could, in this day and age, lead to inquisition or, even worse, the cleansing Fires.

Thoughts that had finally blossomed into the actions he had taken this evening.

He shook his head and went inside. Selenna was patiently waiting for him to join her. How could he tell her? How could he explain what troubled him so? Would she understand?

“Pytor.” Selenna reached across the table and patted his hand. “You be too worried ’bout this. From what you told us tonight, we got no choice. You know that.”

“I do,” he responded. “I just don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. Can’t you see? It’s not simply that we’re disobeying the new laws. We could be putting our very souls in peril.”

She snorted, a very unladylike noise but one that spoke of her practicality. “You’ve said over and over we could put our souls in peril if we don’t do this. That we must stand up for what we know Vkandis Sunlord wishes for his children in this world. How could he look down on us and be pleased if we let the children be put to the Fires?”

And there it was . . . the lurking fear that had plagued him. Only five days left now before the Feast of the Children, when a priest came to the village all the way from Sunhame to test the children.

Test the children. What a bland way to put it. In the old days, that was exactly what it had been. Priests went from city to city, town to town, and village to village to test children for their talents. Talents that were now becoming spoken of in whispers as “witch powers” and were said to be evil in the sight of the Sunlord. But Pytor knew better . . . by the Light of Vkandis, he knew it was not so.

Even when he had studied for the priesthood, things had started to change in Sunhame. The Son of the Sun was no priest he would have chosen, had he had been Vkandis Sunlord, to be the God’s representative on earth. And through the years, the Son of the Sun’s actions had proved him right. Far more interested in temporal power, Hanovar had gathered priests around him who told him exactly what he wanted to hear, all eager to increase whatever powers and positions they thought were rightfully theirs.

“What we’re doing—” He started and abandoned his words, and tried again. “It goes against what I’ve been taught. Our allegiance to the Son of the Sun is paramount. But I know what’s going on in the priestly circles is not what I was led to believe Vkandis wants for his children. How could he wish to destroy those of us he granted these powers to at birth?”

“More the reason,” she said in her quiet voice, “to give’em a chance to grow into those powers in a place they won’t have to live in fear. Najan be our cousin. He’s told of the place we’re going. It be not that far off, and he’s lived there over a year. Two Trees be close enough to the border so we can make it there in three days. A few priests be there already. You know that. Other families followed’em. They be afraid of what could happen to their children who have talents when the Feast of the Children comes. What be so different ’bout this time?”

He cleared his throat. “It’s you . . . I don’t know how I could live without you. We’re all we have left of our family, what with Father gone, Mother dying last year, and your husband the year before. Both you and I are childless. If anything happens—”

“You be avoiding my question,” she said and smiled slightly. “What be so different ’bout this time? And who be the one to say I won’t come back? Once the children be safely ’cross the border, Najan will take care of ’em and I can come home.”

Here it is, Pytor thought. Here’s where I tell her or trust Vkandis to keep my secret.