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normal and simply another day in the life of a door warden for the Sin Eaters, when, in fact, it was rare for any new person to join their number. The Sin Eaters were given orphans or the unclaimed, and, in extreme cases those who had a life before, but now wanted no part of the world. Why anyone would choose the life of the most accursed of the world is something that no one had been able to find out.
    For Jaron, however, she did not bore herself or her young charges with these questions. Instead, she asked him after he had eaten, “Do you know of the gods? Iliya the Mournful? Annwn the Note-Taker? Vars the Sun-Stealer? Oluin the Warden?”
    At each of the sacred names the boy nodded, even when the list had grown long, and Jaron had been forced to include the lesser-known half gods.
    “Are you just nodding for the sake of it? Are you lying to me, child?” Jaron said sternly. “Because liars are not permitted in the Tower. It is unnecessary, and unwise.”
    The boy shook his head once more, and his unlikely warden sighed.
    “Well. I guess I will just have to believe you, considering. Good. Your family, whomever they were, taught you well. This place, this Tower, is dedicated to Annwn, the keeper of the halls of the undying, the record-keeper of history, and his consort the Queen Iliya, the mournful, the remembrancer of those passing away, the keeper of the river of time.”
    The boy nodded. Not that he knew what this place was, but that the stories were familiar to him, somehow.
    “Then, my boy, you will understand as well just how lucky you truly are. All those who enter the service of Annwn become a Morshanti, or a child of the dark. Out there they call us Sin Eaters, because we are the only ones who have the ability to go between the realms of the human and the gods on their behalf. We can take on the sins of our fellows in order to lighten their journey towards heaven. We remember, and we record the misdeeds of all of those who ask for our aid. Sometimes, we may even act as judges, if those crimes cannot be lifted, and the only way to heal them is to forward their life onto the next reincarnation. Do you understand, child?”
    The boy nodded, once, and continued to look at Jaron with cool, clear eyes.
    Jaron had expected tears, fits. Sometimes she even saw the new recruits try to run away, but not this one. This one accepted his new role with all of the expected ease as if she had just asked him to be a water-taster for a living. This one was older than most who came to their halls. She was used to working with babies and toddlers, not those nearly into their majority. Jaron found herself feeling vaguely unsettled at the calm attitude of the child as it accepted all that was going to happen to it, the entire course of its life changed forever.
    “But you must understand, child, that even though you will perform this noble and holy task, there are those out there who will not thank you for it. They will only see the accumulated weight of your sins and the dirty little secrets that you have collected—not the freedom that you have given people. They will see the money that some pay you to take their sins away, and think of greed. They will hate you.”
    The boy shrugged.
    “Huh. Tough little creep, are you?” Jaron found herself smiling. She was starting to respect the stoic tenacity of the boy. “Well. You have the right character, then. Here we will raise you, clothe you, and feed you, and we will train you in all of the ways necessary to become what the gods have chosen for you. Understand?”
    The boy nodded.
    “And you think that you will like this kind of work?” Jaron frowned.
    The boy nodded. Whatever he had seen out in the desert, this was not going to be worse.
    “Then I guess that I should call you something other than boy. Vekal. It means ‘the silent one’ in the old language. Vekal Morson.”
    The boy nodded, turning back to his stew without saying a word.

6
    Vekal backed away from the body of