Read Shadowstorm for Free Online Page B

head. “No. I fear my memory of him will distort how I perceive his words. I will want your opinion of his demeanor afterward.”
    “Well enough.”
    With that, they turned and walked into the abbey. Asran smiled insincerely and said, “Welcome back, Abelar. The timing of your return is auspicious. The Abbot teaches that the Deliverance is near. I am pleased that you learned wisdom in time.”
    Abelar kept his tone even. “Nothing has changed, Asran. I am not come to embrace the Risen Sun.”
    The heavyset priest faltered in his steps. He looked shocked. “Why have you returned, then?”
    “That is a matter for me and the Abbot.”
    Asran’s cheeks flushed but he nodded and led them toward the chapel.
    The sounds and smells of the smithy, the weaving looms, the swine pens, the stables, all recalled to Abelar his youth. Chickens scratched in the dirt, fluttered out of their path.
    Work stopped as they passed. Abelar felt eyes on them throughout, some hostile, some sympathetic. The short walk across the grounds to the temple seemed to take all morning. The finely hewn doors to the chapel stood open. Stained glass panels flanked the doors, depicting a youthful Lathander holding aloft a newborn babe.
    As it always had, the image reminded Abelar of the Nameday of his son. Eltha had died while giving birth but Elden had been born alive. Grief-stricken for his wife, Abelar nevertheless had swaddled the boy and taken him outside to see the world into which his mother had brought him. The overcast sky had been as gray as iron. Abelar had cradled his son close, thought of Eltha, and prayed to Lathander to bless them both and light the paths of their lives. Father and son had both cried when the clouds parted and the sun shone through.
    As Elden had grown, all who knew him could see that he had been born simple. Abelar loved him all the more for it. Elden laughed and cried with uncensored abandon.
    “Abelar?” Asran called, his tone irritated. The priest was five steps ahead of Abelar, standing on the chapel’s portico.
    “Are you all right?” Regg asked.
    Abelar nodded. “I was thinking of my son. I’m well. Come.”
    The Abbot gave them an audience in the circular private chapel off the main worship hall. Asran opened the wooden door, nodded for them to enter, and closed it behind them.
    Two circular rows of birch pews surrounded a veined marble statue of Lathander in his guise as a hale young man, smiling,
    with both arms reaching upward in welcome. Above the sculpture, morning light poured in through the round stained glass window of a golden sunrise set into the arched ceiling. The light drenched the room in reds, yellows, and oranges.
    Abelar frowned. The window had been changed since he had last been to the temple. Previously, the glass had shown a red rose radiating beams of yellow light. The new sunrise motif was an acknowledgment of the Risen Sun heresy.
    The Abbot stood near the statue, bathed in the light of his new window, and watched them enter. He did not smile. He wore robes of yellow and red embroidered with a rising sun motif at the breast. Long gray hair hung loose against his careworn face. His voice was a commanding baritone, seemingly too large to be contained by his thin body. Abelar had heard the Abbot utter hundreds of heart-soaring sunrise sermons. He had also heard him utter heresies.
    “You have returned though you were exiled from these walls.”
    Abelar bowed. “You know I would not have violated your edict if the matter were not urgent. It is gracious of you to see us. My thanks.”
    “And mine,” Regg said, though his voice was tight.
    The Abbot did not acknowledge Regg. His intelligent brown eyes searched Abelar’s face as he asked, “Have you finally seen the light, Abelar?”
    Abelar answered, “What wisdom I had then, I have now.”
    The Abbot frowned. “Quite so, then.” He gestured at the ceiling. “Do you approve of the new window?”
    Abelar heard the real question and