Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [19]
Caelan turned around in protest. “But I haven’t been lying about any of this. I swear.”
“It is not your words they will test. It is you.”
The Elder nodded at the proctors. They glided forward and tossed the tiny balls of blue light at Caelan. Light burst against his forehead and sprayed down to his feet in a shimmer. It changed color from blue to yellow to green, then faded to white and seemed to vanish altogether.
“Enough!” the Elder said, sounding shaken.
The proctors stretched forth their hands, and the light flickered feebly back into existence at Caelan’s feet. It surged away from him, split into two halves, then reformed itself into two tiny glowing balls of light.
“It is decided,” the Elder said.
“What?” Caelan demanded, puzzled. “What’s decided?”
The Elder gestured, and the proctors stepped back. “You, Caelan E’non, are in grave danger of losing your soul. You have deliberately sought the ways of shadow.”
Caelan gasped in shock. “I haven’t—”
“By your own confession you wrongfully used severance. You betrayed the safety of this hold. You willfully exposed every inhabitant to possible death or worse. That crime is attempted murder.”
“But I didn’t mean—”
The Elder held up his hand. “Rebellion is as much a gateway to the center of the soul as is obedience. By your actions, you prove you are becoming a vessel for that which is foul and otherworldly.”
“No!”
“We want no part of you here among us, infecting the other boys.”
“Fine!” Caelan said furiously. “Then let me leave.”
“We have laid the matter before your father,” the Elder said as though Caelan had not spoken. “He has asked us to purify you.”
Caelan stared at him. He felt frozen with growing apprehension. “I don’t believe you,” he said through stiff lips.
“Do you understand purification?” the Elder asked. “It means to enter with the masters for forty days of fasting and surrender. They will sever you completely from everything, root out the evil from your mind and soul, and then allow you to return to your body.”
Long ago, as a child, Caelan had heard the servants talk about someone possessed at another hold. Healers had been called in—not his father, but others—to cleanse and purify the man. The fellow had been quite mad when they finished. Nor did he ever regain his sanity. The healers said the possession was so strong it could not be driven from him. Others whispered that he had been severed too long and could not be made whole again.
A shudder ran through Caelan. He knew he wasn’t evil. Not in the sense the Elder claimed. He’d never tried to harm anyone here. He wouldn’t knowingly expose them to danger. Yes, he’d been foolish and selfish, thinking only of himself when he ran away, but his carelessness didn’t warrant this. As for having Master Mygar—so cruel, so heartless— walking through his mind, reshaping him—
“No!” he cried. “I won’t let you touch me, none of you! Not like that. You’ll kill me, or make me insane. I’d rather you’d let me die in that ditch than face—”
“Enough,” the Elder said icily. “You have made your refusal quite clear.”
“Father didn’t request this,” Caelan went on. “I don’t believe that. He wouldn’t.”
“Beva E’non was my star pupil,” the Elder said, his voice as sharp and cold as the icicles hanging off the roof outside. “Aside from the principles of severance which teach us to place no man above another, I loved him as a son. For his sake, for the memory of how eagerly he took learning from me, I offer you this final chance to redeem yourself. Accept the purification, Caelan E’non, and remain with us as your father wishes.”
Caelan’s heart was pounding. Without hesitation he looked the Elder square in the eye. “Never,” he said. “I don’t want to remain here. I deny your charges. I refuse purification.”
The Elder stared at him for several moments without speaking. The room grew still and oppressively quiet except for the fire hissing on the hearth.
“Master Beva wanted to teach you himself, but you were not a willing pupil at home. No doubt a father’s love for his son