The Eye of God by R. J. Blain

Author:R. J. Blain [Blain, R. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

~*~

Blaise watched and waited for General Horthoe’s attention to wander. When exhaustion clouded the man’s eyes, Blaise feigned disinterest, staring at the candle burning down to a spluttering stub. With luck, Horthoe wouldn’t recognize the difference between the natural desire for sleep and the Speech Blaise whispered.

The general slumped across the cot, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. A grim smile curved Blaise’s lips and he reached out to touch the man’s temple.

“There are no secrets in a world watched by God,” Blaise Spoke, focusing on his desire to learn of the golden collar and the boy who wore it. Images flashed through his head; a haphazard collection of memories hammered at Blaise, in sharp contrast with General Horthoe’s stoic exterior.

Emotions laced through each image in a confusing tangle so human in its contradictions Blaise couldn’t understand what the general felt about the boy. It wasn’t hate; Blaise understood that emotion well enough. Whatever it was, it was strong enough he couldn’t sift through the memories without being aware of its presence.

Within him, Aurora stirred. The chill of her presence warmed to something almost tolerable within him.

Through the chaos came a name: Terin. When the Hand of God was near, fear and grief tainted the general’s thoughts. The man groaned in his slumber, and Blaise murmured soothing sounds.

The Hand of God hadn’t changed much since the last time he’d seen it. The wrappings were a little more worn, a little more frayed and tattered at the edges, but the outstretched pose of the hand with its beseeching fingers remained the same. General Horthoe’s unease matched the man’s fear.

Blaise searched deeper until he found the memory of the boy falling and the Hand of God landing on top of him. It was just as Leopold had said. Blaise couldn’t deny the truth of the human’s memories.

General Horthoe’s reaction, strong despite the passage of time—several years, from what he could tell from the blurred nature of the memory—was of great sadness, which drowned out the fear of the artifact fashioned from God’s severed hand.

Blaise focused his attention and desire on the collar and committed its commands and how to unlock it to his memory. When finished, he breathed out the words to break the Speech keeping General Horthoe asleep. Blaise roused the man with a firm shake. “Leviticus?”

General Horthoe jerked upright, a yawn escaping from the man’s lips. “What?”

“You fell asleep,” Blaise murmured, careful to hide his smile.

“Damnations! Curse it all to the bloodied hells.”

“Temper,” Blaise replied, letting himself yawn. “This is a trying time for all of us. We should both sleep or try to do something of use, if you insist that we shouldn’t leave my chambers.”

“You should rest, Bishop. It would not please His Imperial Majesty if any more harm came to you. It seems you’ve a knack for trouble and injury.” General Horthoe frowned, glancing at the door, the man’s blue eyes darkened, though Blaise wasn’t certain if it was due to the man’s thoughts or the shadows in the room.

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