The Burning White (Lightbringer #5) - Brent Weeks Page 0,157

I fear that the old gods are loosed upon us in judgment of our many sins. We know black luxin once more. We cannot survive unless we also rediscover white.’ ”

The hall was deathly silent. Some even of the young auditarae had forgotten to write down her words, mouths hanging open. Jens Galden was rooted to place. Even from this distance, the whites of his eyes showed round against his deep-olive skin.

“I am your White,” Karris said. “And though you are not entitled to every truth from me, I will not lie to you. In white there is no room for darkness. White may become tainted—I shall fail—but when I do, I shall not hide the stain. I shall expose the truth, no matter how painful, and pay the penalty. This is what I pledge to do, because this is what the Chromeria should do. We are not called to perfection; we are called to correction. When we slip from the path, we will return to it. When we offend, we beg pardon and pay restitution. We do not call the crooked straight. Our courage is the courage to stand in the light, and to learn to love it.

“In this room, with this company, you may ask me any question you wish without fear of reprisal—and, auditarae, without attribution of the name of the questioner, thank you?”

The auditarae shared looks, and nodded, some vigorously, immediately, while others seemed more torn, but finally assented. She waited until they all agreed.

She said, “Now ask, and I will answer you.”

No one spoke for a few moments. She saw some of them glancing at the older luxiat, who looked like he was halfway to wanting to know all the answers himself, but was more scandalized by Karris’s betrayal of tradition.

“The gods!” someone yelled, not standing up, not asking to be rec-ognized by her first, and not wanting to be recognized by Jens Galden. “Tell us about the elohim!”

Among the luxiats, there was a lot of debate about the gods. If they were purely fictitious or real; and if real, what was their nature, their connection to luxins, and to the old worship. Despite the pagans’ rebellion, it was still a taboo subject, for the Magisterium feared even speaking of the gods might seduce the simpleminded to worship them once more.

Fertility cults? Orgies? Surely the simple would rush to their damnation at the mere rumor.

Of course, the appearance of Nabiros during Pheronike’s execution on Orholam’s Glare had made many luxiats ignore the old taboo. What were they to make of that? Had it been mass hysteria? An orange hex delusion? Could it have been real?

“The old gods are real,” Karris said bluntly. “At least two hundred immortal powers are spread out amid the Thousand Worlds, though maybe that number refers only to the greatly powerful among them. Whatever their number, they are united in wishing nothing more than to kill and destroy and corrupt what Orholam has made, for He was their king, and they hate Him. In these last years of peace, our world has been either temporarily overlooked or barred from their direct influence. As we’ve seen, that peace has come to an end. I believe we may see more of these elohim, ere the end of this war.”

“Stop!” Jens Galden shouted. “What are you doing? Why! You’ll ruin us!”

And there you’ve done it, she thought. You probably didn’t even know half of this yourself, and yet in the minds of these young luxiats, you’ve just confirmed it all.

Karris didn’t raise her voice. She spoke as she would have spoken to the Blackguards at a mission briefing. “We are at war. We need unity if we’re to fight. If the Magisterium cannot be united in light and in truth, how can the Seven Satrapies have any hope? The light of Orholam’s Glare revealed the truth to us. Go now, and quickly,” she told him. “I’m sure you have reports to make.”

And so he rushed from the hall, nearly weeping.

But the door had barely clanged shut when a young woman asked, “Is there no hope, then? We stand against gods.”

“Hope? Of course there is hope!” Karris said, “For know this—these gods can be banished from our world. The Whites of old believe that the nature of the old ‘gods’—Anat, Dagnu, Molokh, Belphegor, Atirat, Mot, and Ferrilux—has confused us because it’s always meant two different things. The ancients would have easily picked up what was meant by context. As powers of the air and sky,