Hellspark by Janet Kagan Read Free Book Online

back to Siveyn to offer his professional services.
    “Your pardon, Geremy, but I’ve already been s-seen to by a doctor,” said Alfvaen.
    “I know. Maggy told me he was a quack—honestly, Tocohl, I don’t know where she picks up these words!”
    (Any good dictionary has them,) Maggy said.
    Tocohl laughed and repeated that for Geremy’s benefit. Then she added, “I’d feel more comfortable if Geremy assured me of your health, Alfvaen—then we’ll see to finding Judge Darragh.”
    While Geremy went professional, Tocohl excused herself to approach the festival fire. All the curious events of the past few hours vanished from her mind, pushed away by heat and flame and the sound of shattering pottery…
    The priest’s glory robe was orange velvet—the highest of her sect—and she wore the firecrown of her office with surpassing dignity. Tocohl dropped to one knee before her, spread her arms wide, and spoke the ritual words: “I come for fire.”
    “For Veschke’s fire, one must shed blood,” responded the priest.
    “As it must be, let it be.”
    The priest sketched Veschke’s sign in the smoky air above her head. “Rise then, and choose.”
    An acolyte held a tray of pins before Tocohl. Each bore a different emblem at its head: the pin of remembrance, the pin of dreams-come-true, the pin of smooth tongues…
    On impulse, Tocohl chose the pin of high-change: its emblem was a face in flame. She dropped a coin in its place. The remaining pins jangled suddenly. Tocohl’s hand shot out to steady the tray and she looked into the acolyte’s startled eyes and gave a reassuring sign.
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    The youngster was unaccustomed to the Hellspark penchant for risk—a glance at the priest’s face confirmed this. The priest drew the girl away to speak quietly to her.
    And Tocohl stood alone before the fire. As she held her right hand high, the 2nd skin fell back into a cuff. She lifted the pin of high-change—it flashed as if of its own accord—and a great drop of blood welled from her fingertip. She shook the drop onto the broad circle of cast iron in the center of the fire, where it spat a moment, then was gone.
    “Veschke’s fire,” she said softly, “taste my blood that you might hunger for it, that you might seek it out and devour it. Burn me to the bone and lift my living ashes into the sailing wind to light the way for those who come behind. As Veschke’s sparks fly with the wind, let me follow.”

Chapter Two
First Judgment
    T
    OCOHL MADE VESCHKE’S sign, turned, and walked away from the fire, her hands and face still burning from the blistering heat. Only then did she realize that Maggy had recited the ritual words with her.
    (So,) said Tocohl, (we share the pin of high-change.) She used the Hellspark tight-we
    , the pronoun reserved for two or more acting as one.
    (Did I do wrong?)
    (No. We share our fortune, as usual.) Tocohl laced the pin of high-change into a tuft of her cloak.
    A second acolyte gestured her to the cauldron of stew, where she turned away a bowl, having eaten earlier, and accepted a ritual cup. The stew was thick and savory, and she finished quickly, then dashed the red clay cup to the ground. It shattered with a satisfying crash. By the end of festival week, the cobblestones of the town would be grouted with the rough red dust of a hundred thousand such cups and bowls. Like the other captains, she’d carry the dust aboard her ship and count it Veschke’s blessing.
    Though luck had little to do with it, she thought. The soles of her 2nd skin were still covered with it—Maggy had been reading up on her subject indeed, or she would have cleaned them.
    (Well done, Maggy,) she said, pleased.
    (Thank you,) came the reply, then: (Geremy and Alfvaen are twenty paces from your right elbow.
    Thirty if you walk around the cooking fire.)
    Tocohl turned her head to line her sight with her right elbow. As the crowd eddied, she saw Geremy and Alfvaen and a third Hellspark beyond one of the small