Children of Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 7) by Feintuch David

Author:Feintuch, David [Feintuch, David]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781453297063
Publisher: Open Road Media Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Published: 2013-01-07T16:00:00+00:00

19

IT WAS A STORMY evening on the bridge.

The fish didn’t reappear. The watch changed, and we waited.

Andrew Ghent logged two demerits, Mikhael one. There was a spectacular set-to between the Captain and Tad Anselm, when Tad proposed that we reboard our passengers and leave forthwith. Before it was over, I’d been chewed out for fidgeting and sent below to amuse Janey until dinner. Fath was in a dangerous mood. I knew I wasn’t really the cause, but still it rankled.

To make matters worse, Corrine Sloan was uneasy, and a touch morose. When I asked her why, she just shook her head.

The only one whose mood was unaffected was Janey. I showed her a holovid word-building game, and in a few. minutes she was running it on her own. Nonetheless she insisted I stand by, and was quite imperious about it.

Corrine stirred. “You asked about my going ashore.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“The reason I’m reluctant is John.”

It made no sense whatsoever, but I kept silent.

“We were to be married, you see.” Her gaze was distant.

“And you broke up.”

“No, not really.” She toyed with her fingernails. “He was a Pentecostal.”

“They’re the devil’s children!”

“Where did you hear that?” Her tone was sharp.

“It’s what the Bishop calls them.” Not that anyone in Hope Nation had ever seen a Pentie; they were a banned sect, crushed almost two centuries ago, in the days of the Reunification. But they were still held out as an example of the folly of religious anarchy. “They’re long gone.”

“Not exactly,” she said. “A number of families remain. They practice their faith underground.”

“In caves?”

“Randy, please don’t be sarcastic.”

I flushed. “I wasn’t.”

“Underground means away from the eyes of the authorities.”

“Oh. Sorry, ma’am.”

“We posted the banns. We lived outside Baton Rouge. There was a neighbor, Arlan Richards … God knows how he knew. Janey, if the word isn’t right, hitting the screen won’t help. You’re a smartie, try again.”

I said, “Were you a Pentie too?”

“I don’t care for that term.”

“Sorry.” It was becoming a refrain. “A Pentecostal.”

“No, but I didn’t mind about John. The truth is Pentecostals are ordinary joeys, religious in their own way. But Arlan Richards went to our minister, and he went to the monsignor.”

“What happened?”

“They forbade the marriage, held John for trial under canon law.”

“What’d he do?”

“The charge was heresy.”

I hissed. That was bad. And the penalties were … I steeled myself. “What happened?”

Her eyes were damp. “I was desperate. My father and I appealed to the Bishop of Louisiana, on behalf of John and his family. The Bishop was …” She grimaced. “Henrod Andori.”

“He refused?”

“By that time they’d held the trial. The conclusion was foreordained, almost literally. But Andori saw us afterward. He called me a whore of Babylon, told me he’d attend the burning himself. And he did.”

“Here, ma’am.” I offered the clean handkerchief Fath made me wear.

“Thank you.” She wiped her eyes. “So did I.”

“Ma’am?”

“Attend the burning. First his mother, then him, then his sister. It was all I had left to give. I wanted him to see me at the last, to know I was with him.

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