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so quickly that the sinner had no time to voice alarm.
It was perfect.
Four more people died that week. The villagers laid the blame on the witch, unseen since her arrival
nearly a week before. For the moment, though, they feared her too much to assault her sanctuary.
Hederick continued his campaign of righteousness every night, sleeping only a few hours before
each dawn. During the day, with Tarscenian, he studied Seeker creed and old Seeker parchments
such as the Praxis. Each day thus found him newly aware of some fresh sin that the New Gods had
as much as ordered him to stamp out. The villagers blithely violated divine laws laws as though
they were mere suggestions on the part of jovial, indulgent gods.
Hederick asserted as much to Tarscenian one day. "Look at Frideline Bacque," the boy said. "Just
yesterday I saw her mix up a paste of oatmeal, commeal, and milk and apply it to her face to lighten
her freckles. This she does although the Praxis, right here, declares bodily vanity a sin."
He waited for the priest to leap to his feet and rush to confront the village woman, but Tarscenian
only shrugged. "Hederick, she's nearly forty. She's only trying to win the heart of Peren Volen. If it's
a sin, it's a harmless one. Anyway, I doubt Frideline has even heard of this particular passage in the
Praxis. Few in this village can read, and I've not gotten to that passage yet in evening devotions."
"That's an excuse?" Hederick raised his voice. "She's violating Seeker law! And isn't Peren Volen
also to be chastised for enjoying the lengths to which Frideline goes to draw his attention? The
whole village is laughing about it. Isn't every holy rule important? And what is a 'harmless sin,'
anyway, Tarscenian?" Hederick was so overwrought that he had to pause for breath. His reddish
brown hair was damp with sweat.
The skin beneath the priest's eyes was translucent and creased, his eyes bloodshot. Tarscenian
sighed and took a sip of the mead that had been his near-constant companion since Ancilla had
arrived.
"Hederick," the Seeker priest said sadly, "it occurs to me that all the words of the Praxis cannot be
equally important or equally true. The document is hundreds of years old, lad. It's been copied
many times by clerics of varying skill. How easy it would be for errors or misconceptions to creep
in!"
"Errors? In the Praxis?" Hederick's voice cracked. "You dare say that?"
Tarscenian's eyelids drooped. "I'm tired, lad. You always were one for rattling on unabated. Leave
me."
Hederick pressed on, pulse racing. "But how could the New Gods permit errors to form in the
Praxis, Tarscenian? Are you saying the gods are fallible? If the Seeker gods don't guard each word
of their holy parchments, how am I, a beginner, to know if a particular phrase is correct or not? You
must be wrong."
Hederick sat bolt upright and reached for the priest's sleeve. "Is this a trial of my faith? You're
testing me, aren't you?" Hederick gazed hopefully at Tarscenian. It would be just like the priest to
see how angry he could make Hederick, to measure his devotion to the Seekers. Hederick waited for
Tarscenian to grin and slap him on the back.
But the priest only drained the rest of his mug.
"Tarscenian?"
"Leave me!" The priest refilled his mug, splashing mead on the rug. Tarscenian ignored the stain,
although Seeker law clearly declared that one should maintain discipline in one's surroundings as
strictly as in one's thoughts and emotions.
"The Praxis advises caution in the use of spirits," Hederick remonstrated.
"That's for those of lesser standing," Tarscenian snapped. "The Praxis also orders us not to wear
certain types of wool in certain seasons, which strikes me as something the New Gods, if they ever
existed, shouldn't be wasting their precious time worrying about."
"If the New Gods existed ?" Hederick's heart pounded until he thought he'd expire on the spot.
Tarscenian drained the mug nonchalantly. "Take the damned parchment and go elsewhere to study
it, lad. Your yammering is giving me a headache of ogrelike proportions." He limped to a chair and
slumped into it, his back to Hederick, facing the wall.
Feeling betrayed and hurt, Hederick blindly did as ordered. He spent the rest of the day behind the
paddock, huddled over the parchment. He examined each word, seeking holy guidance, wanting any
error to be his, not Tarscenian's. So deeply was he absorbed in his studies, he even ignored the call
to supper.
Hederick found the passage about the wearing of wool, and rejoiced that the New Gods cared about
each small detail of their devotees' lives. He reviewed the parts about glorification of the body over
the mind, and concluded that Frideline and Peren and most of the occupants of Garlund had
committed far more sins than he'd previously thought. He had great work before him.
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