Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 07 - The Warlock Heretical by Stasheff Christopher

Author:Stasheff, Christopher [Stasheff, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction - Science Fiction, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantastic fiction, General, Fantasy, Science Fiction - General, Fiction, Gallowglass; Rod (Fictitious Character)
ISBN: 9780441872862
Publisher: Ace Books
Published: 1987-08-01T07:00:00+00:00

"Take this good man to the Master of Postulants," the porter said. Brother Miles nodded and turned away, beckoning. Hoban followed.

The monk led him into a small building not far from the gate, into a plain whitewashed room with two straight

chairs and some pictures of starving saints on the walls. "Sit," he advised, and left. Hoban sat, gazing about him, rather daunted by the sterility of the little chamber. But as he sat, waiting, he began

to feel his tension ebb away in spite of the lie he was living, and the plain white walls began to seem not sterile,

but clear. In fact, by the time the Master of Postulants came in, he was feeling so much at peace that he didn't

even think of his mission.

"Bless thee, fellow." The Master sat in the other chair. He was tall and lean and lantern-jawed, with the supressed

eagerness of a pointer sighting a pheasant. "What is thy name?"

"I am called Hoban, Father." Hoban rose.

"Sit, sit." The priest waved him back toward his chair. "I am Father Rigori. Thou dost believe thyself to have a

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vocation?"

"I think that I may, Father." Hoban was amazed to realize he was telling the truth. "How may I be certain?"

"By living among us a few months, good youth." The Master's eyes glowed. "Yet say to me what hath put this

thought into thy mind."

Hoban remembered, with a touch of guilt, his reaction to his brother Anho's first visit home, his own wondering

if perhaps he, too, should seek the holy life. He should have acted on the thought. " 'Twas my brother, Father.

When first he came home from these halls, I thought perchance his road should also be mine."

"Thou hast a brother here?" The Master almost jumped on it.

"Aye, Father. He is called Anho, and our village is Flamourn."

"I know him." There was a trace of doubt in the Master's face. " 'Tis two years he hath been among us; he is a

deacon now. In truth, he will go to a parish in a year's time. Wherefore hast thou been so long in coming?"

Hoban hung his head. "Ah, Father! I am but a strong back on two legs, not a man of wit!"

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