Sunlancer

Clarrin went cold inside but managed to keep smiling. 'And what thing was that?'

'He said to tell you that — ' she screwed her face up in concentration. ' — that 'the light is the life and the breath, the flame is the blessing and not life's-ending' ...' she faltered for a moment, then smiled, '... and that 'children should live and laugh and play!' Then he told me to go and play in northern flowers!' she finished, giggling.

A weirding chill raised the hackles on his neck, but somehow Clarrin managed to lean down from his saddle to hug her firmly, lifting her right off her feet as she put her arms around his neck.

'Be happy, Liksani,' he ordered gently. 'Live and laugh and play, like the shining man told you.'

'I'm always happy, Uncle Clarrin. You know that,' she giggled as he set her back down on the ground.

Sunlord, keep her happy, he prayed silently, turning his horse to the gate, and leading his seven guards back toward his duty. Sunlord, keep her always happy.

Tirens watched as his grandson rode off down the road to the south. And two candlemarks later, he watched as his granddaughter, Liksani, and six of his seven servants rode off down the road to the north and west. With them, rode the Herald, whose true name Tirens still did not know.

He knew that the Herald was a man of honor. That was all he needed to know.

The sun was directly overhead, the birds singing all about his favorite pavilion, as his one remaining servant served him his finest wine from a fragile crystal goblet. He sipped it with appreciation as he turned the crystal to admire the way it sparkled in the sunlight. This had been one of a set of two, from which he and dear Sareni had drunk their marriage-wine. The shards of the other lay with Sareni in her grave.

Sareni would have approved, he thought, as he drank the last of the wine, and slipped his frail old hand into the bowl of figs where a tiny, rainbow-striped snake was curled. He stirred the figs until he felt a slight sting on his hand, then a sudden lethargy. The goblet fell from his nerveless fingers and shattered on the pavilion floor. He lay back in his couch, watched the snake slip away under the rosebushes, and wondered if Vkandis liked gardens.

Clarrin stirred his noodles with his fork, and stared at nothing at all.

'Captain!' his Corporal-Orderly said sharply, making him jump.

'Yes, Esda?' he replied, wondering if he looked as guilty as he felt.

Evidently not. Esda pouted at him, hands on side-cocked hips, a petulant expression on his face. 'Captain,' he complained, 'you've hardly touched your meal, and I worked very hard making it! What is bothering you?'

Clarrin grinned in spite of himself at the burly corporal's burlesque of a spoiled girl. 'Esda, you lie! You never work hard at anything. Not in the ten years you've served me, anyway!'

Esda grinned back. 'Too true, Captain. That's why I picked you for my officer.'

Clarrin shook his head at his Orderly's unrepentant grin. 'Here,' he said, shoving the plate of noodles across the table toward Esda. 'Sit down, finish my meal for me, and let me use your common sense.' He made it less of an order, and more of an invitation.

Esda's grin faded immediately, and the grizzled veteran's expression was replaced by one of concern. 'You are troubled, Captain,' he observed, taking the seat, but ignoring the food, his eyes fixed on damn's.

Clarrin shrugged. 'I have some questions to repeat to you — and a dream to tell you about,' he said, slowly.

'A dream!' Esda lost every trace of mockery. 'Dreams are nothing to disregard, Captain.' Esda had served the Temple for longer than Clarrin had been alive — he had seen three Sons of the Sun come and go. And he was both a skeptic and a believer; if anyone knew where Temple politics began and true religion ended, it would be Esda.

'Yes, well, see what you think when I am done.'

For the next candlemark, Esda sat and listened without interruption as Clarrin recounted the discussion in the garden and little Liksani's dream.

'You know we serve at the Cleansing,' he finished.

'Aye, and I know you mislike the assignment,' Esda replied gruffly. 'But — is it Vkandis you blame for — '

'No!' Clarrin exclaimed, cutting him off with a slam of his open palm on the wooden table. 'Never! I cannot