Sparrowheart

4

Pious Petyr, the Vice Archbishop and second only to the High Priest, walked quickly along the brown marble floors of the arched breezeway, squinting every few feet from the rays of a hot, desert sunrise that slipped between the stone columns. Other clergyman and priests gave him questioning looks as he hurried past, not pausing to give greetings or morning salutations. He had been in the library when word had reached him of the wizard's death. One of the Alter Boys, Jace, had found him there, fast asleep at one of the long reading tables with a still-burning candle from the night before next to him in the early pre-dawn hours. Petyr could often be found there of late, poring over ancient scrolls and tomes. 'Fortunately', he thought, 'the boy knew where to find me as soon as that horseman returned.' Without slowing his stride, Petyr held out both hands and pushed open the large wooden doors that led into the central tower stairwell. Mass was being held and nearly the entire army of Riders were in attendance. 5,000 people were gathered below him, their haunting chants were echoing through the vast interior of the black marble tower of which he was ascending in a spiral. The steps appeared to be hewn from those marble walls, to his left there were more large wooden doors every few stories where another breezeway led into it; to his right, there was nothing separating him from a sheer drop of hundreds of feet. He was terrified of heights and always dreaded a trip up to the High Chamber, but now he barely noticed the fear as he neared closer. The beating of his heart was from the exhilaration of eliminating heretics. The fools calling themselves "wizards" would be the first to go as their blasphemy was of the obvious sort, apparent to all. They would be forced to give up their strange powers and turn in their unholy 'magical' devices to the Temple. Then, the subtle and conniving Gnosis Clan would be next, oh yes, he could envision it clearly. The Seperntine Tower would soon fall. Their blasphemy was more insidious, more cleverly designed to point to a way that more closely resembled the truth... 'But look at what has become of them!' thought Petyr as he reached the top of the stairs. 'They are scattered upon the face of the earth, withering away because of their rotted roots.' He took a somewhat lengthy pause at the ornate doors that had been carved out of the marble and carved with gold inlaid patterns. There was a piece of golden rope dangling from a hole in the wall next to them, attached to a large bell that, Petyr knew, hung inside the Chamber above the dais. He let the sounds of the thousands of disciples chanting in unison from below wash over him, daring a look down and observing their zealousness, basking in it. He inhaled deeply, meditatively, and pulled the rope.
It did not open immediately. Petyr returned his gaze to the mass below and suddenly his fear returned. The ground seemed to be rapidly moving toward him as the walls around it moved away. It was unbearable. He felt as if every second was agony, he could not survive any longer here in this precarious place without going mad and leaping to his death, into the arms of all those loyal followers...the doors began to slowly move outward, separating at a previously invisible line straight down the middle. Extremely relieved and slightly ashamed, Petyr hurried across the threshold as soon as the opening was large enough to fit through, then adjusted himself, flattening the front of his robes. The High Priest, who was seated on a throne of black and gold and wearing a horned crown, inclined his head to glance at Petyr and stroked his short, white beard, but did not address him. Someone was already there. At the Priest's feet was Lincoln, kneeling and giving an account of the previous few nights.

"So we began our return journey three days ago, as the crow flies-or should I say 'sparrow'?" quipped Lincoln, causing the Priest to let out a small, almost imperceptible chuckle. 'How dare he address him in this manner?' thought Petyr. 'To say nothing of visiting him personally! The arrogance of this filthy horsemonger..'

"My Lord" said Petyr, and he kneeled next to Lincoln.

"Please stand, both of you, and speak with me as men." They both rose to their feet, Lincoln hesitating more than Petyr who shot up almost immediately.