Learning to Fall

"I don't think I'm ready for this."

Kesti looked over and gave him a sympathetic smile. "You'll do fine. Besides, you were the one who wanted this meeting as soon as possible."

"I never said that I wanted this. I need a solution as soon as possible. Midsummer is less than two weeks away."

"If it were some clerk or a guild member you annoyed, then I'd be suggesting a bribe. Maybe some blackmail. That's not exactly going to fly with a priestess of the Church of the Light."

Aytin reflexively glanced towards the temple of Kalador up ahead. It wasn't even one of the grand churches, much less the Cathedral of Light. Regardless, it was still impressive. Three white stone tiers with buttresses extending out at each level. Those supported platforms where a steady stream of dragonettes came and went, many dressed in the pure white vestments of clergy.

Even during the day, lights shown from walls and through stained glass windows depicting scenes from legend. Most were mundane oil lamps, but at least a few had the hard, unwavering glow of enchantment.

At the very peak, on a gilded spire, a crystal glimmered like a beacon in the sun. At night it would continue to glow, proclaiming the God of Light's supremacy over the darkness.

It was one of the last places Aytin wanted to visit. After all, he and Faelon had technically violated the edicts laid down by this particular god, in ages long past when he created dragons and dragonettes.

The law that dragons would not be worshiped.

He had let himself hope that the transgression had gone unnoticed. And by all accounts, it nearly had. Until his story had reached the ears of a particular priestess of the light dedicated to the service of Kalador.

Even more shocking than Kesti's revelation that it was the church blocking Faelon's title was the identity of the priestess responsible. It was the same one who had spent half the jubilee questioning him like she was an agent of the inquisition. And now he had the name to go with the face: Sister Karava.

As the story went, she had latched onto the mere implication that a dragon might be violating her god's edicts and treated it as justification to launch a personal crusade. The priestess had pieced together rumors, paid visits to Aytin's acquaintances, read through guild reports, and finally used her personal influence to block Faelon's title in the crown bureaucracy. What at first seemed like the fixation of a would-be missionary at the royal jubilee now took on the appearance of an attempt to engineer a confession.

The only good news was that this was still a very personal crusade. Apparently the church was stretched too thin to chase down rumors of heresy on the edge of the frontier. Sister Karava didn't have any luck convincing her superiors to act on her evidence. If she had, Aytin had no doubt that any visit to the temple would not be made under his own power.

That left them in a stalemate, but one she would likely win by default. With less than two weeks remaining until midsummer, his margin for getting Faelon's title was down to days.

So it had come to this, a meeting - or possibly tribunal - where one of the sister's superiors would decide his fate. Aytin didn't know how Lord Carnot managed to arrange it with only two days' notice, but arrange it he had. The old dragonette even insisted on accompanying him, along with Kesti.

His presence probably went beyond repaying a favor. At this point, Aytin wasn't going to question it. He would take any help he could get.

The trio landed on the middle level of the temple. As his talons brushed the polished stone, Aytin's stomach clenched, then relaxed. He hadn't really believed that the god would scorch him to ash as soon as he touched sanctified ground, but there were stories. This was a good sign. Hopefully.

"Remember what we spoke about," Lord Carnot muttered as several clerics approached.

The young dragonette just nodded in reply.

There would be no stretching the truth. No denying what happened. Lying to the representatives of Kalador in His temple might very well attract the god's ire. It was telling that even nobles like Kesti and Lord Carnot, who regularly schemed with the best of them, were advising complete honesty.

He would just be presenting that truth in the best possible light.

Their escorts led them through massive doors wide enough to fit the most ancient red dragon, cut from single slices of heaven oak and stained and polished until they seemed to glow with an inner light. They were inlaid with intricately wrought carvings. Dragons and dragonettes and beasts and islands and shining symbols. Gleaming brass fixtures adorned it, just as intricate and beautifully crafted as the rest.

A breeze passed through the entryway, welcome as they entered the stuffy interior. Summer was in full swing, and even for cold-blooded creatures the heat could be overbearing.

The hall that they entered held rows of benches interspersed with draconic-sized platforms, surrounding a central pulpit on three sides. That pulpit was currently empty. Despite there not being any active service, a number of dragonettes and one young white dragon were present, either sitting in prayer or examining the various relics and icons scattered around the room's periphery.

Their escorts led them past the worshipers and displays, over to an innocuous doorway off to one side of the gallery. It opened to a staircase that led into the working portion of the temple, where the church bureaucracy made its home.

Much of the ornamentation of the public areas was missing, but their path still led them past the occasional painting or statue. Care had been taken in adding small bits of decorative engravings to doors and rugs muffled their footsteps as they made their way deeper inside the bowels of the temple.

No one spoke throughout the journey. The white-robed clerics escorting them didn't speak beyond their initial greeting, and the whole building had a sort of presence that seemed to discourage casual conversation. When they finally reached a particular door among many, one of their pair of guides opened it and ushered the group inside without a word.

The room they found themselves in was empty, save for a table and half a dozen padded chairs. There were no windows, although two oil lamps provided ample light and unobtrusive vents kept the air from getting too stale.

The three of them sat on the far side of the table, Aytin flanked on his left by Kesti and right by Lord Carnot. Once they were settled, their escort left, shutting the door behind them.

And then they waited.

Only brief snatches of distant conversation broke the silence. Every time soft footsteps sounded outside of the door, Aytin unconsciously straightened. He slumped a little further every time they faded.

Time passed. Without being able to see the sun or a shrinking candlestick, it was hard to say how long. He started to fidget, then forced himself to stop.

To either side, his companions seemed completely relaxed. Lord Carnot had his head cocked slightly as he stared at the strong, clear flame in one of the lamps with a sort of relaxed intensity. His adopted niece seemed no more concerned as she gazed off into the distance, like the door and stone walls were no more substantial than a thin mist.

He tried to emulate them. To channel their calm, collected posture. It worked. A little. He would manage to still himself with a deep breath, to focus dispassionately on some crack in the stone wall or the play of the light against the wooden door. And then, inevitably, his thoughts would turn towards the future.

'If they block the title, what if I go out there anyway? It's the frontier, will they really care? We can live with Rina and the wildlings. We'll survive. But... what if they give me to the inquisition? Would Lord Carnot help?'

He shot an involuntary glance at the stoic noble. No. The Carnots had already done more than he had ever could have hoped. If this failed, they would no doubt be working to isolate themselves from the ramifications of aiding a heretic, and would probably be right to do so.

'What if I flew away? Right now. Found a dragon willing to fly that way. I have enough money for that. I think.'

His talons clinched and wings shivered slightly before he forced himself to relax. Things had gone too far. He was in too deep. But...

What if...?

What if...

What if-

Aytin jerked in his seat when the door finally rattled. He hadn't heard anyone outside. He was sure that he hadn't.

It opened to reveal a pair of dragonettes in more clerical robes, although one bore silver embroidery and the other gold. The one in silver he recognized from the jubilee. Sister Karava. Her gaze immediately settled on Aytin, and her eyes narrowed to bare slits. But the edge of one lip twitched in what might have been the barest hint of a smile. And not one of friendship or mirth.

The dragonette who preceded her was cut of wholly different cloth. He was truly ancient, with silvery hide and wing membranes so papery thin that they would have a difficult time supporting even his nearly emaciated frame. One horn was missing completely, replaced with a shining metal cap. The other curled back on itself, and was rough in patches.

Then there were his eyes. Despite their milky whiteness, he seemed to take in the entire room as he entered, like he could see more than just a trio of dragonettes rising to their feet in greeting.

"I am Reverend Jacta." He had a strong, deep voice that belied his frail appearance. It sounded as if he would have no trouble reaching the far corners of a crowded temple.

"Reverend Jacta," Aytin said, bowing deeply. "I am Aytin."

"Of course you are. And these would be Odit and Kesti Carnot?" He waved at his two companions.

"Yes Reverend," Lord Carnot said, formally. "I am very glad to see you well."

"By Kalador's grace, I live to serve Him another day." He inclined his head as he spoke his god's name, then closed his milky eyes for a moment, lips moving in silent prayer before resuming. "You are here to speak on this young dragonette's behalf?"

"We are merely here as support. I believe Aytin's words will suffice without requiring I add my own."

Reverend Jacta cocked his head for a moment, then nodded before motioning for everyone to take their seats. Sister Karava pulled a chair out for him, which he found unerringly. Once they were all situated, he laid folded hands on the table and began.

"Sister Karava has informed me of a number of serious allegations against you, Aytin. You are aware that you and the dragon Faelon are accused of encouraging dragon worship?"

"I am, but-"

The reverend raised one gnarled hand. "You will have your chance to say your piece. But first, I believe you should hear the accusations against you." He nodded towards Sister Karava.

She had obviously been waiting for just that moment, and had rehearsed it well.

"I hardly have to present anything when this boy has spent months in the city, laying his sins bare for anyone who would listen." Aytin had to fight to keep his face straight and ears from shifting in anger at the tone.

Reverend Jacta's face hardly flickered as he raised a single eyeridge. In a mild voice, he noted, "There is no need for theatrics. Please stick to the facts."

She gave her superior a short nod. "Very well. I know that everyone here has heard the claim. That goodwill and a handful of trinkets were enough to secure the help of a wildling tribe to fight a band of brigands. Hardly a matter for the church to become involved in.

"Except." The word hung for several heartbeats as Sister Karava's eyes bore into the young dragonette. "Except by his own admission, he recruited lancers from their ranks. Tell me, do you think a few steel blades and some salt would be enough to convince anyone to take on such a role?"

The reverend considered the words. "Unlikely, yes. Having known a number of lancers, however, not impossible. Do you have any more evidence than that?"

Her head bobbed like a branch in a gale. "Oh, yes. He told me - in front of esteemed witnesses, I might add - that he proselytized to the wildlings, no doubt twisting holy teachings for his own purposes. He took advantage of their ignorance for his own gain, forcing the wildlings to hold lavish feasts for both him and the dragon Faelon. He even took a mate from among their number. If that isn't the clearest sign of the avarice behind his actions, I don't know what is."

"That's not-"

Aytin's outburst was silenced by a milky-eyed look from the reverend just as Kesti kicked him in the shin. He fell quiet, but couldn't keep an expression of seething anger off of his face.

Of course he'd told Cue stories. And he'd tried his best to keep them as accurate as he could. And the feasts were their idea, not his. And Rina...

Thankfully, the reverend chose to ignore the outburst. He turned back to Sister Karava and made a motion. "Please, continue."

"Thank you." The worst part was, the words sounded sincere. She seemed utterly convinced that it was her righteous duty to report on these discretions as she pushed on. "Now, all of this could have been the boasting of some young lordling who didn't know better. That was why I requested a team be sent to verify my suspicions. But when that was deemed too expensive in light of current demands on the church, I realized that such an expedition had already been mounted."

That was news to Aytin. He felt a sudden pit in his gut as he thought about what might have happened if someone had visited Faelon. Who, though?

"A mercenary team was dispatched by the Free Traders' Bank months ago, led by the dragon Spark to investigate these claims. I read the report the bank's representative wrote before interviewing Spark and members of his crew. Sadly, it only served to reinforce my suspicions.

"Spark and his crew spoke of the deference that this tribe showed the dragons. They had built a structure for Faelon far surpassing the meager hovels they sheltered in. When the expedition arrived, they immediately set to work preparing a place for Spark while his crew slept in tents. And throughout the short visit, the tribe brought both dragons a stream of food and gifts."

"None of which was offered to the crew?" Reverend Jacta asked somewhat pointedly.

"Food, yes," the priestess admitted. "But the dragons were regularly given the best cuts. And Spark spoke of the decorations in Faelon's dwelling. Carved antlers, polished stones, and a sleeping mat of fur lined hide that would be the envy of any dragon in the kingdom! They even wove a parody of a crown between his horns!"

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Aytin seethed. Sister Karava was certainly telling the truth. The majority of the tribe still saw Faelon as a god - or at least one of their messengers. There was a great deal of deference for the massive dragon, to be sure.

But the wildlings lived in their "hovels" by choice. Light, hide-lined frames were so much more practical for a group that moved their entire tribe several times a year. They had been surprised that Aytin and Faelon wanted a permanent place to live. Even so, it had only taken a few days to construct a shelter for Faelon near the ruins of the keep, not far from where the tribe had moved in the spring.

Likewise, the sleeping mat had been a gift made from hides Faelon had brought to the island. It wasn't like such things were in short supply among the tribe, and the handful of wildlings who remained awake during the winter used that time to help make the sleeping pad.

And, sure, there were other gifts. Trinkets and such. It wasn't like Faelon was sitting there amassing a hoard. He pulled his weight and then some.

It had shocked the wildlings to no end when their "god" had started hauling wood and digging clay out from river banks and generally helping to move anything that needed it. More than a few wildlings now sported glass ornamentation from when he had excavated a pit and used his breath to make a month's worth of charcoal in an afternoon.

That was when they had made his "crown" for him. It was the same pattern of woven leather strips that many of the wildlings wore between their own horns. Some of the huntresses had provided rawhide from a recent kill. Rina and Ness and a few of the more adventurous of the tribe secured the strips between Faelon's massive horns and adorned them with fragments of bone and antler and bits of glass from around the burn pit.

Aytin realized that Sister Karava had been going on, listing more supposed misdeeds. Everything she said was true, but stripped of context. It really did make them out as a couple of opportunists trying to set up a heretical enclave out on the edge of the frontier, just like she claimed.

"And during your investigations, did you discover anything else?" the reverend prompted as his subordinate finally seemed to come to a stop.

She paused, as if debating, before adding, "I spoke to his mother, before she left the capital to return to her keep. She said that her son was a fool and a disappointment, but-" And the priestess frowned as she admitted, "She did not believe that he was likely to be a heretic. Although mothers will believe the best about their children, despite all evidence to the contrary."

"There is no fault and much that is good in such an attitude. Now, if that is all?" When only silence followed, the senior priest turned. "I know Sister Karava and I trust both her word and her dedication to her work. However, a truth on the ground may appear different to one in the skies. What perspective can you offer to your actions, Aytin?"

He managed not to jump when Kesti kicked him again. The last comment about his mother had thrown him. 'It's not that I didn't expect it, it's just...'

With an internal shake, he acknowledged the reverend with a nod of his own. Then he said, "I want to help the god Faelon."

The pair of clergy looked at him blankly, with Jacta even cocking his head slightly. Not because of what he had said, but because he had spoken it in the wildling tongue.

"What was that about 'dragon Faelon?'" the senior of the two asked.

"It's what the wildlings said to us when we first encountered them. Or close enough. The first part basically means 'I want to help.'"

"And the last?"

Aytin took a deep breath. "'The god Faelon.'"

"See!" Sister Karava practically crowed. "I told y-"

"Aytin was kind enough to remain silent while you spoke," her superior said, cutting off the tirade. "Please do him the same courtesy."

The priestess settled back into her chair, her expression once again schooled into an impassive mask. After a moment, Aytin continued.

"The wildling tongue has bits and pieces of ours scattered all around. It's the only way I was able to pick it up at all. But just because two words sound the same, doesn't mean they mean the same thing."

A memory surfaced of Rina and the rest laughing as he discovered that he had been mixing up the words for venison and deer for days. Unbidden, the tiniest of smiles edged his lips, and he brushed one finger along the bracelet his mate-to-be had given him.

"They were the ones who thought that Faelon was a god, or had been sent by them. We didn't realize it was anything like that for days, and we were horrified when we realized what the word 'dragon' meant to them."

"But you didn't correct them," Reverend Jacta pointed out.

Aytin let his head dip. "We didn't."

"Why?"

"Because we didn't know how."

A snort came from the other side of the table, but Sister Karava otherwise held her tongue and so the look she got from her superior only carried a mild rebuke. "I will admit, it does stretch the imagination," the reverend remarked upon returning his attention to the young dragonette in front of him. "Once you knew enough of their language, it seems like it should have been a simple matter to make the correction."

Behind the facade of reasonability, Aytin knew the elder priest was anything but sympathetic. That statement was a trap, and one he had debated with Faelon even before they had made the decision to keep up the charade.

"Sir, if I had stood up in front of the tribe and announced that dragons weren't divine, half of the tribe would have torn my wings off while the other half watched and ate skewers of meat. The shaman used Faelon's presence like a rising wind to gain standing with the matriarchs, and he had most of the tribe on his side."

"Which is why you used them to your own ends, sending a number of them to the heavenly gates in the process?" Reverend Jacta asked, mildly.

"No. That... We didn't feel like we had another choice." The words tasted bitter in his mouth as he tried to explain. "I lived with them. So did Faelon. We were there when they died."

Visions of that hellish charge into the ruins played in his mind. Wildlings falling, the crunch of Ness's shoulder, lancers falling, Xantha's execution of the helpless Nali.

"So far I've heard very little in the way of refuting the accusations against you."

"Would it help me if I lied in one of Kalador's temples?"

The elder priest actually smiled at that and not unkindly. "It would very much not."

"Then I won't do that."

That got a nod from Reverend Jacta and even a grudging ear flick from Sister Karava. "So if not a denial or a defense what have you come here to offer us?"

"An explanation. If it will make a difference."

"The church is not without mercy," the elder noted, to the flickering displeasure of his fellow cleric. "However, know that it does not speak well that you attempted to conceal your sins until now."

That last came as a punch to the gut. He had hoped that a willingness to cooperate would buy him something. Or maybe it had? At least the priest was listening.

He looked to his own companions for support. Both were impassive, but after a moment Kesti's tail flicked against his, out of sight behind the table. She gave him the tiniest of smiles, then tilted her head fractionally at the clergy waiting for a response.

After a deep breath, Aytin continued. "I know the right thing to do would have been to have come to the church right away, but I was worried for my friend. And for me."

Reverend Jacta flicked his fingers in a move along gesture. It would have been nice to have a bit longer to gather his thoughts. All the arguments he'd debated with the Carnots seemed to desert him at that moment. A tiny noise built up at the back of his throat as he realized that he was going to let Faelon down.

It was the thought of his friend that finally gave him a place to start.

"If Faelon and I hadn't done what we did, he would have thrown himself at Xantha and Kalthor and all the other brigands. They'd have killed him. And me, because I wouldn't have let him go alone. And I know that by the church's teachings, that's what we should have done," he added, forestalling the interruption. "And I'll admit that the reasons we didn't do that were not selfless. But if we hadn't, think about what would have happened!

"Xantha would have lived to kill again. Kalador is the god of justice, and surely wiping out the brigands was doing his work! Then if we'd died, who would have been there to teach the wildlings about the gods? Would you have wanted a bunch of traitors and greedy murderers doing exactly what Sister Karava accused us of doing?"

"Something which you cannot know would have happened," Reverend Jacta pointed out. "Maybes and mights are not a defense. Especially when you admit that they were not the driving wind behind your decision."

"But it's still true!" Aytin insisted. "And even if it wasn't, what then? No one would know the wildlings were out there. I did my best to teach the tribe what I knew about the gods and the church, but I'm not a priest. Now people who know better than me can come and fix my mistakes and their ignorance. Which always was part of what Faelon and I had hoped to do! We wanted to help them! That's why I told their shaman about the gods and about the heaven oaks and-"

He shut his mouth when Kesti poked a wing into his side. Rambling wouldn't help. Not when it sounded so much like begging.

"The church will certainly help guide the wildlings to the light and correct the damage you have done," Reverend Jacta said into the silence.

"And we tried to undo that damage. I told some of the huntresses the truth about dragons before the battle. And the matriarchs know."

That earned a raised eyeridge from the senior cleric. "You say they fought for you without believing in the divinity of dragons?"

"Some. A few. One of the most senior huntresses. She... wasn't happy." That was an understatement. Remembering Attalee's reaction to the revelation, Aytin was still surprised she hadn't gutted him then and there. "But she agreed that the tribe needed to stay united. So did the others."

He had discussed the problem of dragon worship with the handful of wildlings in the know over the months since the battle. Mostly with Rina and occasionally Attalee. It was much easier to find somewhere private with them than the matriarchs, and the rest of the tribe was very much in the dark.

Ironically, Faelon's presence was slowly wearing away illusions of the divine mantle of dragons. It was hard to picture someone who hauled firewood and cleared rocks and dug latrine pits as a god.

Aytin was pretty sure that Ness had figured out the truth before he left, even if she hadn't dared to speak it out loud. The young huntress had been spending a lot of time with Faelon since her shattered shoulder had effectively barred her from normal duties. Agon wasn't particularly hopeful about her ever regaining most of the strength in that arm, which put her in a bit of an awkward position.

Her magical connection with beasts meant there were still roles she could play among the ranks of the huntresses. None that involved a bow or spear, though. That made her a liability, if a valuable one.

It was little wonder that she had felt drawn to the crippled dragon, although it had been a little surprising how it began. That nudge was a comment Aytin made to Rina one evening as the end of autumn approached. While he'd quickly learned the wildling tongue, teaching it to Faelon was proving difficult. That would be a problem in the spring, when the dragon would be left alone with the wildlings.

Ness had overheard the conversation around the cookfire. Since taking her wound and the death of Stumpy, she hadn't been in the best of shape. Worse, there hadn't been much to keep her occupied as she watched fellow huntresses go out to gather the last game of the season while the rest of the tribe prepared to move to the caves for winter.

So she had volunteered to work with Faelon. Teaching him the wildling tongue or learning his language to act as an interpreter, either would give the dragon a way to communicate even after Aytin left the island. As it turned out, what happened was a little of both.

By the time the weather settled enough to make the flight to Lazon's Rest possible, Faelon had gained enough proficiency in the local dialect to make himself understood, while Ness could speak the language of the rest of the world better than any other member of the tribe.

With Aytin gone and the wildlings able to speak directly to the dragon, there was every chance that they would be on even more familiar terms with their "god" by the time he returned. If he returned.

On that note, Reverend Jacta was still waiting for any defense he had left. And there really was only one.

"My point is, I think the tribe would accept the church's teachings. All of them. Their shaman is enthusiastic, and begged me for instruction that I couldn't give. They're ready to listen to any priests you send, but wouldn't they be more receptive if they worked alongside Faleon and I? The ones they've come to know?"

At the suggestion, Sister Karava looked as if a foul smell had just risen up through the floor. Her mouth opened, then closed again as the elder cleric noted, "You assume that your penance will allow this course of action."

"I was just pointing out that if - if - the church allows it, we will do everything in our power to help fix our mistakes. Whatever it takes. We could just do more if we're allowed to be in a position to do so."

"If I may, Reverend," Odit said, speaking up for the first time when it was clear Aytin didn't have anything else to add. The cleric made a motion for the old noble to continue. "Thank you. The way I see it, you have an opportunity here."

"An opportunity to nip future heresy in the bud by making an example!" Sister Karava had taken the permission to apply to her as well, and her outburst drew no censure from the elder.

Lord Carnot only nodded, acknowledging the point. "That may very well be true. However, I would ask you to consider all the good that Aytin and Faelon have done, and balance it against this admittedly serious indiscretion. An indiscretion brought about by exceptional circumstances that nonetheless may end up being for the best."

"In these dark times we must show unwavering strength! The egg rots from within, after all. What good is it if we stop the forces of evil at the frontiers when there is heresy brewing where we make our homes?"

In the face of the sister's fervor, Odit's poise never faltered. "With respect, in this case the greatest show of strength may be a measure of mercy. In the past I've found - to my own detriment - that the path of no compromise often has unintended consequences. Such as, have you considered how the wildlings might react to a party from the church arriving and immediately putting Faelon in chains? Or worse."

"A point, to be sure," Reverend Jacta said before Sister Karava could interject. "What would you suggest instead?"

"It occurs that one way or another, a team of missionaries will be sent out to bring these lost tribes into the fold." It wasn't exactly a question, but the old noble's words got a nod in response. "That far out on the frontier, it would only be prudent for such a team to have a place of safety from which to mount their expeditions from. Or a place where the normally nomadic residents of the island might know they could find instruction. A keep would certainly fit those needs.

"And of course it would follow that the missionaries would be supported in every way by the lord and residents of such a keep. Some of whom-" he made an idle motion towards Aytin "-have established friendships with the natives and can already speak their tongue. I'm sure the missionaries would also be more than willing to ensure that the residents of such a keep are fully educated in church doctrine and complying with it in every possible way." The way he said it implied there would be more than just lessons involved.

Reverend Jacta steepled his gnarled hands, considering. "The church is spread thin, and our resources are stretched. I would like to order a missionary group sent out with the dawn. Yet, as much as it pains me to wait, it may be several seasons before such a group can be organized."

"Given the circumstances and our close relationship with the prospective owners of the keep, the Carnot family would be willing to make a donation to help expedite the process. That is, however, contingent on the eventual identity of the lord of the keep."

"Reverend!" Sister Karava looked aghast. "You cannot seriously be considering letting such a sin go unpunished!"

"I am considering nothing of the sort," he assured her. "A penance is demanded. But." The cleric raised one bony finger. "A penance should remedy the sin that spawned it. Nor does the kingdom require its nobility to be pure as unicorns."

Aytin caught just a hint of a twitch in Lord Carnot's ears at that last comment. Meanwhile, the priestess was fuming.

"Penance? How is this a penance? A little gold and a few empty promises in exchange for a title?!"

"Far from it. Lord Carnot is correct that we must balance a firm hand with what might be accomplished through guidance and good works. The Church of the Light is not the Inquisition, for all that we share certain common goals." Reverend Jacta fixed Aytin with a hard stare. "Ensure that you do not come to their attention. And rest assured, they will be watching."

With hope rising for the first time in what felt like weeks, Aytin nodded quickly. "I- we will. Thank you, reverend."

"You plan to leave before midsummer, yes? I will have documents drawn up, and Sister Karava will notify the crown that the church has no more interest in delaying Faelon's title."

She looked like she felt very much the opposite. When the reverend brought his milky gaze upon her for several heartbeats, though, she finally responded with a grudging, "Very well."

"I would also like to commend your zeal in this. Few would be perceptive or dedicated enough in their pursuits of the edicts to bring this situation to a close."

It seemed like a poor substitute to the outcome that the priestess wanted, but she seemed at least slightly mollified by the words.

"In fact," Reverend Jacta continued, "I believe you have proven yourself ready for more responsibilities."

"Really? That was not my motivation, but I'm honored by your trust in me. Still, I have yet to fully master my current role."

He waved one hand in reply, dismissing the protest. "I've heard nothing but glowing reports of your competence, and if this whole situation has shown anything it is that you are not being used to your full potential here in the temple."

Up until then, Aytin had only been paying the barest attention to the conversation. Relief had turned to exhaustion and it was everything he could do not to slump in his chair. Yet, something about the reverend's tone drew his focus.

"And now, the perfect opportunity has presented itself. If we are to send a group of missionaries to enlighten these wildlings, I cannot think of a better candidate to lead them than you, Sister Karava."

The young dragonette and the sister of the Church of the Light turned and stared at one another. It was hard to tell who was more distraught. Aytin knew one thing for certain, though.

It seemed that their penance would be nowhere near as light as it had first seemed.