Forging the Darksword - Margaret Weis [34]
The gray fog remained over the city and deepened until the sun’s rays could not penetrate the magical shroud that covered the deathly silent streets and drifted up among the rose-hued marble platforms. The gay colors that had decorated the glittering crystal walls of the dwellings vanished, replaced by tapestries of mournful gray, making it look as though the fog had been given shape and form and substance. Even the great Silken Dragon fled, creeping into his lair—so parents told their children—to mourn the Dead Prince.
The streets were silent and empty. Those not in attendance upon the grieving Royal Family were confined to their homes, ostensibly adding their prayers to those of their neighbors that the Deathwatch be swiftly ended. But, in many of these homes, the prayers of the young mothers fell from pale, trembling lips as they held their own children close, while those expecting children placed their hands upon their swollen bodies and could not make their lips form the words of the prayers at all.
When the ceremony had been completed, the baby was taken away. The Deathwatch began.
Within five days, word came back that all was ended.
After that time, more children of the noble houses of Merilon failed their Testing, though none so drastically as the Prince. Most of these babies were taken to the Font, where the Deathwatch was performed.
Most, but not all.
Saryon, at Vanya’s request, stayed in Merilon to work in the Cathedral there. Part of his responsibilities included the Testing of these children. At first he so hated it that he thought he might rebel and demand a new assignment. Anything seemed better—even becoming a Field Catalyst. But it was not in Saryon’s nature to openly rebel and, after a time, he grew resigned to his work, if not hardened.
Saryon could see the reasoning behind the destruction of these children. It was expounded by the Bishop, in fact, when the Test failures began to occur more and more frequently. People were confused and frightened and starting to mutter darkly against the catalysts, who, meanwhile, were delving into every conceivable source—even ancient ones—searching for answers to their perplexing questions.
Why was this happening? How could it be stopped? And why, in particular, was it happening only to the nobility? For, it was soon discovered, the common city dwellers as well as the peasants in the fields and villages were bearing healthy, living children. The people of Merilon demanded answers, forcing Bishop Vanya to deliver a sermon in the Cathedral, designed to calm the populace.
“These unfortunate children are not children at all,” the Bishop cried earnestly, his hands clenched in his passionate intensity, his words echoing from the vaulting crystal ceiling. “They are weeds in the garden of our Life! We must uproot them and wither them, as the Field Magi wither the weeds in field, or they will soon choke out the magic within the world.”
This dire prediction has its intended effect. After that, most parents accepted the will of the Almin and consigned their Dead into the hands of the catalysts. But some parents rebelled. In secret, they tested the children themselves and, if the baby failed, they hid the child until it could be smuggled out of the city. The catalysts knew of this, but there was nothing they could do except keep these occurrences quiet, so that they did not unduly alarm the populace.
And so, in increasing numbers, the Dead walked the land, Saryon recorded one night in his journal. And our fears grew.
7
Anja
The overseer hovered above the ground at the edge of the field, keeping his eyes upon the dozen or so magi flitting among the crops like drab butterflies. Up and down among the rows of beans they fluttered, their plain brown clothing standing out against the bright green of the bean plants. Dipping down, they withered weeds with a touch of their hands or