(The Dark Servant)Midnight Matters, A. Ellas [primary phonics books .txt] 📗

temple, the rites are continuous, and the Movai would take over from me at this point. Let us retire to the parlor.” * * * *

Grinning, the two men shouldered each other on the way out of the small chapel. Rak muttered, “Men!” as he followed them out. In the parlor, he held up a bottle. “Wine? The black wine does not keep. Once opened, it must be consumed that same night.”

“S’Rak, is Jethain sufficiently recovered to drink the blessed wine?” Jisten held the goblet out of Jethain’s reach.

“I already had some!” Jethain protested.

Rak grinned at Jisten. “Oh, that is mean. Let the poor prince have some wine.”

Jisten handed over the goblet and Jethain stuck his tongue out at him. To Rak, Jisten's expression seemed to be one of delight, which was an odd reaction to being the recipient of a stuckout tongue. Perhaps it was that Jisten was pleased by Jethain's high spirits. Rak was pleased by that himself. It meant the prince was recovering his health.

“You are brilliant,” Jisten said earnestly to Rak, breaking the priest from his reverie.

Rak blinked at Jisten. “I am?”

“Yes, you are,” Jisten said. “Keeping the prince safe here during midnight rites.”

“And serving us wine,” Jethain added. “I prefer rites and wine to purgings and blood lettings!”

“I wish I had thought of this sooner.”

“No one’s perfect,” Jethain said amiably and sipped his goblet. He made a noise of appreciation.

“And I didn’t think of it at all,” Jisten said. He waited for Rak to drink before he did.

Rak sipped the wine, eyes on Jisten. Jethain looked comfortable on the overstuffed chair, but Rak was still on his feet. “Did you enjoy the service?” he asked Jethain.

“I did, but it wasn’t what I expected. You don’t give sermons?”

Rak barked a laugh. “ Ix. We leave the sermonizing to the sun priests. All we have are the readings, and those are in Okyran.”

“I think I’ll convert,” Jethain teased.

“You would be welcome,” said Rak instantly. “Your views are already more in line with ours than not.”

Jethain grinned at him. “I’ll keep that in mind. After all, I’m not Owain’s son anymore, you are.”

“You are Owain’s heir, Jethain,” Jisten said with his staunch loyalty.

“Nope, that not either. Weren’t you listening all those many, many times, Jisten?”

“I was raised by a man named Varkaris. Not Owain.” Rak again noticed that Jisten startled at the name. He hadn’t thought the name common, but it probably wasn’t rare, either.

“Who was he?” Jethain propped his feet up, appearing utterly relaxed.

“He was the palace dance master. He actually filed adoption papers for me. The princes laughed.”

Jethain scowled. “Not appropriate for a prince.”

“Their belief was that under the law, slaves are property, and you can’t adopt property.” Rak paused. “But the Temple of Alethian accepted the papers. He will always be my papa.”

“Good,” Jisten said fiercely.

“This is my favorite time of night. Between sunset and midnight, I am usually as busy as Forael, or more so.”

“There are guards that only wish the night watches,” Jisten said. “I believe I can see the attraction now.”

“Peaceful,” Jethain looked around. “If I could sleep during the day, I’d be awake now too.”

Rak grinned. “If you try to get the bureaucracy to run at night, you will face revolution.”

“No, I don’t want them to! I want them to leave me alone!” Jethain grinned back. “I’m imagining bureaucracy free hours.”

“I think that is against the fundamental laws of the universe.”

“So day or night, the bureaucracy runs on?” Jethain sipped more wine.

“Of course,” agreed Rak. “Even the Enemy has paperwork.”

Jethain laughed. “Chaos paperwork! I believe it!”

“I wonder if it’s in quadruple, just to cause more chaos,” Jisten said.

Rak told them a story about a Kephi spy, gone around the bend, who convinced the chaos-priests to sacrifice all the bureaucrats, resulting in five years without war. The Goddess, displeased by the peace, declared clerks a protected class who could not ever be sacrificed.

Jethain mused over the goblet, “I wonder if I could do that.”

“Sacrificing unwilling people usually upsets the neighbors.”

“Spoilsport,” Jethain said, clearly dreaming of sacrificing a few choice people.

“Even the sacrifice of willing people will start rumors,” said Rak, speaking from experience.

Jethain and Jisten both cast him thoughtful looks. Rak sipped his wine and smiled.

* * * *

Murson scowled at the backs of many heads in cream cowls. A mandatory vigil! How dare Gaerik have the discourtesy to die when he had work to do at midnight! He wished he could kill the man slowly, to make him pay. But alas, he was already dead.

About the Author

I’ve long since embraced my inner nerd. I revel in my Greekness and in my Geekness. I have two lives: the mundane reality of life here on earth, and the far more interesting life in my head. I love ancient history, ancient forms of combat, target archery, sabre fencing, anything to do with horses other than western saddle stuff, organic food and sustainable farming, and science fiction and fantasy of all varieties, especially conventions, which are the only gatherings on earth where I can find many people just as strange as I am.