The Palace Job (Patrick Weekes) by Patrick Weekes

Author:Patrick Weekes [Weekes, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Epic
ISBN: 9780987824868
Google: b1GeMQEACAAJ
Amazon: B00D7JWTTQ
Goodreads: 18318648
Publisher: 47North
Published: 2011-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

Desidora gave the secretary a minute and a half, tops.

The Nef’kemet robes were in a tiny folded bundle under his own robes, visible only for the aura that few people, even among the priesthood, would be able to see. The switch was obviously supposed to have taken place during that brief private moment, which the Prime had apparently been ready to allow despite centuries of established protocol. Desidora was lying about some of the rules of the Ceremony of Conferral, but not all of it.

She wondered briefly if the Prime had been bribed or was just playing politics, keeping her face serene and her aura authoritative but calm as she knelt in the middle of the room.

The secretary shifted his weight, took a few steps, then stopped and put his hands behind his back. Desidora could feel the stress pouring off him in waves. It had to be a big speech—the Archvoyant wouldn’t bow to the temples unless he needed a large audience, as well as the hook of having his heart quite literally worn on his sleeve for all to see his sincerity.

Or at least, the illusion of sincerity. The secretary shifted his weight again, and Desidora favored him with a glare for interrupting her peaceful meditations.

The secretary glared back at her and strode to the door. “I’ll be back,” he muttered, spitting the words her way as he left.

Desidora let the door swing shut behind him, gave him another few seconds just for safety, and then dove into Silestin’s uniform and rifled the pockets. In an inner pocket in the jacket, she found the encryption crystal, a small wand that glowed in complex swirling patterns of color.

She refolded Silestin’s jacket, got back into meditation position, and raised her arms to either side. Her right hand held Silestin’s crystal, scintillating and wild. Her left hand held the Prime’s warding crystal, now a blank slate as the result of an aural cleansing.

She shut her eyes, opened herself to the power of death, and felt the air chill around her. She knew her skin had gone chalk-white, her hair pitch-black. Part of her hated it. A new part of her, a frightening part, didn’t care.

As the power of Byn-kodar flowed through her, the blank crystal slowly began to glow.

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