Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

enough to cause cold sweat to gather on his brow. He hoped Chardan would mistake it for honest sweat produced by the heat, and not an indication of guilt.

Pytor had managed to make it though yesterday afternoon with no sign of his growing unease. Chardan had presided over the evening service, the villagers reacting to the senior Black-robe’s presence with suitable awe. But the night Pytor had spent in the barn had been one of the most unnerving in his life. He had spent most of the night in prayer and rose fuzzy-headed before dawn to participate in the morning service. Now, standing before the Temple in the blazing noon sun, he prayed again for the strength he felt he sorely lacked.

“Where are the rest of the children?” Chardan asked in a deceptively quiet voice.

The children who had remained, who had never given any evidence of talents or powers, shifted slightly. Their parents, who had grouped themselves on the other side of the Temple’s doorway, kept their expressions as neutral as they were able.

Pytor drew a deep breath, forced himself to meet Chardan’s eyes, all too aware the three junior Black-robes were watching him carefully.

“According to my records, old friend, there should be six more children living in this village.”

“There are,” Pytor said, struggling to keep his voice as devoid of emotion as Chardan’s. “They’re all cousins. Unfortunately, their grandmother is dying, and they left with their parents to be with her before Vkandis calls her home.”

There. He had done it. Lied. Actually lied to someone he had pledged faith to.

“Hmmm.” Chardan glanced down at the list he held in his hands, a list Pytor suspected contained the names of everyone who lived in Two Trees, their ages and their sex. “Interesting. And your sister, Pytor? I missed her company last night. Where is she?”

This line of questioning caused Pytor’s heat to jump in his chest. “Visiting our cousin Najan,” he replied, his mouth gone dry.

“The itinerant trader? And why would she go visit him now?”

Pytor shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows what goes on in a woman’s head?” It was a safe response for a man to give, though Selenna would have excoriated him had she heard.

“Hmmm.”

Pytor held his face to an expression of polite attention, certain Chardan watched his every move from the corners of his eyes.

“Well,” Chardan said at last. “Since impending death of a family member grants adults and their children exemption from the Feast of the Children, I suppose we’re done here. Once again, old friend, I congratulate you on the condition of your village and the souls you minister to. We could have been treated no better in the larger towns we sometimes visit.” He folded the paper he held and lifted his right hand in blessing. “Go with the love of the God who watches over all,” he said, his voice deepening into stentorian depths. “Turn to his Light and away from all things dark, and flee in peril of your very souls from anything that verges on the edge of witchery! May the blessings of Vkandis Sunlord be upon you all!”

The villagers and their children responded, as was custom and ritual, “May it be so.”

For a moment, Pytor’s knees threatened to give out. Relief flooded his heart. Could it be over? Could he have actually—

“Pytor,” Chardan said, his voice pitched so only Pytor could hear. “A word with you, if you please.”

It was not over. Not by a long shot. With legs feeling heavy as lead, Pytor followed Chardan to the rear of the Temple. His four cats lay in what shade they could find, sleeping deeply in preparation for their nightly hunts. Chardan glanced at them with an expression of extreme distaste.

“Don’t know why you keep such creatures around,” he said. “Too independent, though I suppose they’re good for killing mice. Now,” he continued, “you and I need to have a talk. What are you hiding, Pytor?”

Pytor stared at Chardan, his heart in his throat. How did his old friend know—The answer came with that thought. Old friend. How could he keep a secret from someone he had regarded as a brother, with whom he had shared his most intimate thoughts? There was no hope for it. Another lie, piled up on top of the ones he had told already.

“I can’t hide anything from you, Chardan, you know that.”

“Then why am I sensing something you’re not telling me? It has to do with the children, doesn’t it, Pytor?”

“Most assuredly not,” Pytor answered, allowing the barest hint of hurt indignation to enter his voice. “Why would I lie to you?”

“I’m not sure. But I sense it. Those six children—when Durban was here, just last year if my notes are right, he said there might be the possibility of those six showing witch powers. Is that what you’re hiding from me, Pytor? Do they possess forbidden talents?”

Pytor simply stared. What could he say? What could he do?

“I’m sorry, my friend. I want to trust you . . . I’ve always trusted you in the past, but this is something I can’t led go based simply on our old friendship. I must go into your mind.”

O Vkandis! Shield me now! He’ll find out for sure and it will be the Fires for me!

“You have every right,” Pytor said, amazed his voice sounded steady. Behind Chardan, Sunshine lifted his head, blinked, and stretched. Wandering over to where Pytor and Chardan stood, the gold cat sat down next to Pytor, leaning up against him in a feline display of affection.

“This won’t hurt, and I’ll be brief as I can,” Chardan said, staring into Pytor’s eyes. “I’m sorry it’s come to this, but witch powers cannot be allowed. Even in those we love and care for. The Sunlord’s people must be pure and turn their faces from darkness.”

A dizzy sensation overwhelmed Pytor. He thought he was going to fall, but another portion of his mind assured him he still stood steady on his feet. But even more powerful than the thrust of Chardan’s mind in his, came the sudden warmth and comfort emanating from the gold cat leaning against his leg. Into his mind, blotting out the rummaging of Chardan’s, flowed a feeling of peacefulness, of affection, forgiveness, and, above all, of a love he could no more understand than fly. A barrier rose in his mind, a flaming bulwark erected between his innermost thoughts and Chardan’s probing. Nothing could hurt him now; nothing could hurt him ever. Wrapped in the hands of a power greater and more indescribable than anything he had ever experienced before, he was only dimly aware of the tears seeping from his eyes and spilling down his cheeks.

And, suddenly, he was released and stood fully back in the present day world.

“I’m sorry, old friend.” It was Chardan’s voice. The Black-robe reached out and steadied Pytor. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you. Your mind is clear as sunshine. You’ve hidden nothing from me. Durban must have been mistaken, for you have no suspicions about the six children he mentioned. And I doubt you’d ever try to lie to me. The God knows you’ve never been good at it, even back in our childhood days.”

Pytor drew a deep breath. “You did what you had to, Chardan. You’re forgiven, if I have it in my power to forgive.”

The gold cat meowed softly, stretched again and wandered off to lie down in the shade.

Later, after evening service and lighting the night candle, Pytor sat in his room, only now feeling full strength returning after his ordeal. Chardan and his fellow Black-robes had left Two Trees immediately after Chardan had searched Pytor’s mind. Pytor hadn’t even lit the candles after dinner, preferring to remain in the warm darkness, his mind gone a total blank.

Suddenly, clearly as if seen in bright sunlight, he beheld his sister and the six children safely across the border; they had found Najan and the other people who had fled Karse in the face of growing persecution. They were safe! He had wagered mightily and, through what grace he dared not question, they had all won.

:You trusted in your Lord,: the voice inside his head said softly. :And, as such, you were rewarded. Remember—the God loves all his children, for he made them, each and every one.:

He heard a soft meow and turned to see Sunshine standing in a corner of his room. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Though no candle burned, the gold cat stood surrounded by a glory of light, a wondrous golden halo that cast shadows on the walls. And he grew in size, his coat changing to rich cream, and his face, legs and tail darkening to brick red. For a long moment, man and cat stared at each other, and Pytor could have sworn the cat smiled.