Heretic (The Sanctuary Series Book 7) by Robert J. Crane Read Free Book Online

Friedlander pronounced through puckered lips. “None of you are heretics. He’s the one who’s used magics unlawfully—”
    “He wasn’t supposed to be able to use magics at all,” Vara said, leaning forward, voice arch. “That’s the line the Leagues have fed us, in any case. That magic is the province only of those properly trained. So … how does the fact that a warrior can use magic fit with League doctrine?”
    “Because he’s the child of a heretic, obviously,” Agora said, a cool glint in her eyes. “He was taught fundamentals improperly at an early age, the building blocks necessary for him to use spellcraft later in life. She paid for her crimes with her life—”
    “I used a spell inadvertently when I was being attacked by the Avatar of the God of War,” Cyrus said, staring at the messenger who met his gaze without fear.
    “And you used a return spell in the markets of Reikonos just hours ago,” Agora said, a small smile of triumph on her face. “The thing about you heretics … you don’t stop once you’ve had a taste of your wickedness.”
    “By your League standards, Cyrus should have been trained by your people,” Vara said, still combative, settling in for the long argument; Cyrus knew that look well.
    “But of course he wasn’t,” Agora said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “No fool would train a child of a heretic in magic. He’s fortunate he wasn’t put to death as a precaution.”
    “I was six,” Cyrus said quietly. “And your Leagues did try to put me to death. They cast me out from the Blood Families in the Society of Arms. That was as good as a death sentence. I dodged the executioner’s axe only because it was clumsy.”
    “Well, your days of dodging have run out,” Agora said, expression stiff. “If you surrender now and come back with me to face judgment for your crimes—”
    “She means ‘death,’” Vara said, with a cold fury.
    Agora Friedlander looked right at Vara, smiling as though it were obvious. “But of course I mean death. This man is a heretic. There is no other punishment for that most odious crime. He has twisted the laws of nature, laws put in place to protect us, the people, from unnatural perversions of magical spellcraft. Imagine a field of warriors casting fire. Imagine the destruction they could wreak in a city. There is a very good reason why not everyone has magic. It is the province of the well-disciplined, the carefully trained, the—”
    “The elite,” Vaste said quietly, staring straight at the hearth.
    Agora looked at him with a pinched look upon her face as though she couldn’t quite believe he was speaking. “Precisely,” she finally agreed. “It is for good reason that we keep these things under law, under control. It is regrettable that this particular sore was allowed to fester, but the time has come for the boil to be lanced, the pus to be removed—”
    “That particular pustule is my husband,” Vara said. Cyrus gave her a look and she shrugged in half-apology.
    “If he surrenders now and admits to his guilt,” Agora said, back to prim and proper, the disgusted look put away for now, “he will be granted a painless death administered by a skilled alchemist via a toxin that will put him into a deep sleep from which he will never awaken. No action will be taken against Sanctuary or its allies.”
    “Look at you,” Mendicant said, his low voice rattling, “so smooth with the offer of the carrot.”
    “Now let me present you with the offer of the sword,” Agora said, her voice gaining the steel of a threat. “If he refuses, the word will spread to every corner of Arkaria of his heresy. Every member of Sanctuary will be excommunicated from the Leagues. That is permanent. They will never be able to join another guild, and they will be unwelcome in every League city, which is a rather considerable number. The Human Confederation, the Elven Kingdom, the Dwarven Alliance, the Gnomish