Covenant's End - Ari Marmell Page 0,74

exclusive.”

“I want you to consider allowing the Church to formally incorporate Olgun into the Hallowed Pact.”

Only the fact that, in their panic, neither Shins nor her god could figure out which way to run, or where to go, kept her in her seat at all. “Wh-what?”

“My dear, we both know that it's only by sheer luck and the grace of the gods that you've survived this long. If you should die as his only worshipper—”

“I know!” The pew was tugging at her with its own gravity; she found herself curling up tight in the corner of the bench, knees pressed to her chest and arms wrapped around them. The sanctuary, which had seemed so vast, closed in on her, a clenching fist of stone and terror.

She'd known for years they'd have to deal with this eventually, had talked about it more than once, but it had always been so easy to put it off. Of course she should go along with it; that she was Olgun's only worshipper left him vulnerable, meant if she died, so did he.

It was also the only reason they had the bond, the relationship, they did.

Sicard saw her turmoil and reached a comforting hand toward her. She stared at it, unrecognizing, and otherwise made no acknowledgment at all.

“I understand,” he said gently, “what I'm asking you to give up.”

“Understand? Understand?!” She only realized she was screaming when the conversation elsewhere in the chamber ceased, and even then, she couldn't find it in her to care. “You have no idea! We can't—I can't…No!”

“It's the right thing to do. I believe you know that.”

“No!”

Sicard finally withdrew his hand, perhaps realizing how foolish it appeared just hanging there. “I will, of course, respect your decision.” His old shoulders stiffened as he began to stand, then stopped. “But Widdershins, it may not always be up to me.”

She was rocking, now, staring at the toes of her boots. “What do you mean?”

“I didn't know what it was at the time,” he said gently, “but I do, now, after having heard your story. When you were…. When Suvagne was…”

“Torturing me.”

“Yes. That. You see, I felt it. In my dreams. As though it were a sign, an omen.”

“No. No, that's not possible!”

“Over the past few years, more than a few people—including some, like me, in positions of influence—have become aware of Olgun. You know that.”

“Yes, but…” She was crying; when had she started crying again? It seemed to be happening a lot, and she was royally sick of it. Almost angrily, she wiped a cheek dry with the back of her hand.

“But knowledge isn't the same as worship,” he finished for her. “No, you're right, it's not. Not to begin with.

“You must realize, though, that when people know of Olgun, and when they begin to realize how much he has watched over them, as he did when he assisted you in freeing the city of Iruoch…well, this whole situation is unprecedented, but one has to assume that their knowledge is going to mature into reverence. Perhaps not to the point of genuine worship, but then again…”

Shaking her head, still rocking, it was a wonder Shins hadn't grown dizzy enough to fall off the pew. “I can't. No. Sicard, I can't deal with this now. There's too much. Maybe…Maybe talk to me after, if we're all still here to discuss it.” Or better yet, don't. Ever. “Not now. Not right now.”

“Of course. I'm sorry to have disturbed you.”

She was up before he'd gotten more than four steps away. Hands clenched tight—and toes, too, inside her boots—to keep herself from trembling, she stalked at an almost predatory pace toward the gathering at the far end of the sanctuary. Like it or not, they were going to let her in on the conversation, in on the planning. Anyone who objected was more than welcome to try to make her leave. In that moment, she and Olgun both greatly preferred the idea of hurling themselves headlong into danger, of planning to fight and kill and perhaps even die, to any further contemplation of the bishop's words.

In part because, deep down where they could never admit it to themselves or each other, Shins and Olgun both knew that Sicard was right.

The heavy mists and constant drizzle had finally made good on their threats. Rooftops and cobblestones reverberated with what seemed a million tiny hoofbeats; the rain was thick, drenching, a blanket of wetness trying to stifle the whole world within its folds.

Standing at the roof's edge, water