Sunlancer

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Clarrin Mul-Par knelt below his open window and raised his face to the rising sun; he closed his eyes and felt the warmth of its rays against his cheeks, watched the inside of his eyelids turn as red as the robes of Vkandis' priests. The sun was a pressure against his skin, as real as the pressure against his heart.

Vkandis! Sunlord! he prayed. Hear me, and guide me in what I must do. Red-priestess Beakasi tells us we do your will and bidding — should I believe her? She tells me that it is your will that we take the young ones, that your miracles show her the ones to test for your service. Must I believe her? Sunlord, all life comes by your gift; to live in your light is the old teaching, passed from generation to generation. But is this what you meant? Vkandis! Sun-lord! What must I do? Give me a sign!

He lowered his outstretched arms, letting the rays of the sun bathe him. But although they warmed his body, they did not touch the cold in his heart, nor did they ease his worry and confusion.

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