Chapter 10d: Calling all the Faithful
Piet Lithor looked out the window, at the crowd of people gathered outside the temple. Hundreds of blank eyes stared back. Hundreds of arms grasped out, as though they could reach through the yards of empty air, past the invisible line they couldn’t cross. Hundreds of mouths opened their hungry maws at the few remaining men and women trapped within the temple. “Look at all the people gathered around the temple, brother Cylus. It reminds me of the days when Piet Pearson preached the gospel. Oh, but he could draw a crowd.”
Brother Cylus looked out the window. “Yes, Piet Lithor. Piet Pearson did have a way with the masses.”
A baby cried from among the pews while a mother rocked it back and forth, calming the child.
“Yeah, you got a hell of a crowd out there, Piet.” The angry voice belonged to Lurok Bos Spielter, a local merchant mariner and owner of almost a dozen ships. His tithes had payed for many of Piet Lithor’s excesses. Now he looked as though he planned to make Piet Lithor earn the money.
Brother Cylus bristled and opened his mouth, ready to give Bos Spielter a lesson in manners, but Piet Lithor halted the angry priest with a wave of his hand.
Bos Spielter twisted the end of his bushy mustache, his eyes shifting from the old priest to Piet Lithor as if the old man was of no consequence. “I don’t mean to sound rude or speak heresy here, Piet, but exactly what have my tithes bought me? Year after year I dumped coins in your lap in the hopes of gaining some favor from the almighty Vaspar, but I got up this morning to find that your god left me with nothing. Got any answers, priest?”
Just a day ago, Piet Lithor would have ruined the man for saying such things. The words still infuriated the Piet, and he wanted nothing more than to throw the arrogant merchant out of the temple and into the ghastly crowd. But in the man’s ranting heresy, he saw a reflection of himself. An example of how others must see him. It made him feel disgusted more at his own tainted soul than at Bos Spielter. None of that showed as he looked the merchant in the eye. His voice rolled with more authority than he felt. “You are still alive Lurok. Maybe those tithes bought you a fate that is better than those out there. Maybe all those coins bought you salvation from a fate that is worse than death.”
“Yeah, Piet? Well, I look out there, into that crowd, and I see a bunch of faces. Some faces I even recognize. I look out there, and I see that we’re a little school of minnows surrounded by sharks. So, you will have to forgive me if I miss the blessings that the almighty Vaspar has bestowed upon me.”
“He has made the ground holy, Bos Spielter! He has given us sanctuary.” Brother Cylus spoke up, an angry quiver in his voice.
Bos Spielter waved his hand in the air, brushing the comment away. “He’s given us a beautiful tomb, priest; a place where we can starve to death in the holiness of his presence. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel all that fortunate right now.”
Before Brother Cylus could argue the point any further, a loud gong reverberated through the temple. All the men cringed at the unexpected noise, and the baby began wailing from among the pews with renewed vigor.
“The bell of Saint Renando. Someone is ringing the bell.” Brother Cylus' voice shook with fear. The temple bell gonged again.
Bos Spielter twisted his mustache all the harder and growled. “Someone better get up there and stop whatever idiot is pulling that cord, or we’re gonna have everyone in the city waiting outside this temple to get it. Though I’m not really sure if it matters at this point.”
The three men rushed to the stairs leading to the bell tower, Piet Lithor leading as the bell chimed once again.
He had run only halfway up the stairs, sweat shining on his face, air heaving in and out of his lungs, when he halted and yelled, “Stop ringing the bell! You’re calling them all down on us! Stop ringing the bell!”
An exited voice, the voice of a young man, called down to him. “Piet Lithor! There are men moving around on the walls of the castle. Guards, I think.”
The youth continued to chatter as Piet Lithor climbed the rest of the stairs to the open bell tower. It rose above the trees, giving a bird’s eye view of the entire city. A young man stood with the bell tower rope in his hand, held taut, and pointed toward the castle. Though his eyes lacked the strength they once held, Piet Lithor looked across and saw guards rushing along the top of the outer castle wall.
“Is that rope they are carrying?”
Piet Lithor had no idea how the merchant could see such details through the haze of drizzle that thickened the air between the temple and the castle. Not that it mattered. What did matter was that men still occupied the castle, and guards at that. They still stood a chance of rescue if only someone would notice their presence.
He turned back to the young man. “What is your name, my son?”
The boy smiled, “Tollis Mayer, son of Royce Mayer.”
Piet Lithor gave the young man an equally wide smile and replied, “Well Tollis, keep pulling that rope until someone spots us.”
He turned back to watch the guards on the castle wall and said, “You may have just saved all our lives.”
Labels: Chapter 10[pP]>hitman1 dowland games [pP]>hitman1 dowland games