Judge by R.J. Larson

Author:R.J. Larson [Larson, R.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy Fiction
ISBN: 9781441260482
Google: J316IwUNY_4C
Amazon: B008B9HPS2
Goodreads: 13617581
Publisher: Baker Books
Published: 2012-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

Sitting on her pallet, Ela closed her eyes and walked the city in her vision. Parne’s citizens stared at her. By now it was known that Parne’s prophet had lost her cherished little sister. By now it was said that Ela of Parne was cursed—unable to protect one of the people she’d loved the most. Clearly the Infinite had abandoned her. Surely she was no one to be heeded.

Ela heard the whispers.

The lies.

Opening her eyes, Ela jammed her feet into a pair of old boots, swept the worn crimson mantle over her shoulders, and picked up the branch.

Kalme, face swollen from crying, looked up from her cushion where she was nursing Jess. “Where are you going?”

“Out with Matron Prill.”

“Your father will be home from prayers soon. What should I tell him?”

“I’m obeying the Infinite’s command. Stay inside, all of you. Don’t go up to the wall when Belaal arrives.”

“What?” Her voice rising in desperation, Kalme cried, “Ela . . . !” She shifted Jess and stood, looking so frantic that Ela crossed the room to soothe her.

“Mother.” Ela wrapped her arms around Kalme and Jess, hugging them both with all the warmth she could allow herself to feel. “I’ll be as safe as a prophet can ever be. Until then, rest and pray. And, please, tell Father my warning is serious. Don’t go up to the wall this morning.”

Kalme burst into tears. “You’re going to die! I’m losing both of my girls!”

The hairs lifted at the back of Ela’s neck. The Infinite once asked Mother to become His prophet. Could Kalme turn prophet even now? Suppressing the thought, Ela kissed her mother, scolding gently. “We both knew what it meant when I agreed to become the Infinite’s prophet. I’m willing to face death, Mother. I have faced it. But today I’ll survive.”

“Give me your word!” Kalme clutched Ela so fiercely that Jess mewed in protest.

Ela nodded. “You have my word. Today I will survive.”

Others wouldn’t. But she wasn’t about to tell Mother so. Ela stepped outside into the morning light. Matron Prill’s home sat above the Roehs’, but farther back, and to the east, behind a modest alcove garden. Prill was already descending the steps, surefooted and quick, with a large basket on her arm. Ready for battle, Ela hoped.

Greeting her with a nod, Prill asked, “Marketplace first?”

“Yes. We’ll start there.”

And end on the wall.

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