Parabolis by Eddie Han Read Free Book Online Page A

the first to stand. He slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and weaved his way up the aisle. To calm himself, Dale remembered,
I’m a soldier, I’ve been in battles. I’ve killed people.
    The cleric had her back to him, gathering her belongings—a small satchel and several books. He tapped her on the shoulder.
    “Excuse me.”
    She turned to him with an inquiring look.
    “Yes?”
    “I…” Dale went blank.
    When Dale said nothing, she quickly assumed he was trying to get by.
    “Oh, sorry.”
    With a “thank you,” Dale walked past her. He stepped off the train, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Walking through the station, his cognitive capacity coming back to him, Dale ran through all the things he could have said. It was so plain to him. It seemed so simple. He thought of how different the last leg of the trip was from the quietness of the first. How easily life is disrupted. Dale thought he had better find a place for a drink.

CH 08
     

SELAH
     
    The cleric emerged from the train after Dale. Alaric Linhelm, Marshal of the Vail Templar, was waiting to greet her on the platform.
    “It’s been a long time, dear child,” he said, bowing.
    His voice was a raspy whisper. It suited his weathered face, generously marked by battle scars. A prominent scar ran down his right eye, leaving it with a colorless iris. Even as he greeted his guest with warm words, his expression was stoic, firm.
    “Champion Alaric Linhelm,” said the cleric. “I’m pleased to see that the years have been kind to you.”
    “And you. You’ve grown into your own, haven’t you? A proper sister of the Benesanti now.”
    “The Maker has been gracious to me on this side of life.”
    “Shall I call you Prioress Evenford, then?”
    “Selah is fine.”
    “The name suits you, Selah.”
    In Balean fashion, they spoke humorlessly, without inflection, like mathematicians or librarians.
    “You sound local,” said Alaric, taking note of the cleric’s Meredian accent, or rather, the lack of a Balean one.
    “I should hope so. It’s been quite some time since I’ve taken to life in the Republic.”
    The templar paused, suspicious of every passerby within earshot, before finally snatching her books and satchel.
    “Come. This is no place to dawdle.” He hurried out of the station where his coach was waiting for them. Four more templar guarded it. They wore polished helms, breastplates, gauntlets and greaves. Their armor shimmered in the morning sun as they stood vigil with their tower shields and their signature broadswords that measured shoulder high from tip to pommel.
    After loading her belongings and settling into the car, Alaric seemed more at ease.
    “Forgive me for rushing you, child,” he added, “but there are eyes lurking in the shadows. And this city has many shadows.”
    The carriage started toward the temple.
    “That dangerous, is it?”
    “Carnaval City is no Lumarion.”
    Gazing out the window, Selah softly muttered, “Brilliant.”
    “You have nothing to worry about. I’ll keep my good eye on you.”
    A small patch of fog formed on the window from Selah’s breath. She poked two eyes into it and completed a smiling face with a swipe. Then she turned to Alaric. “Just the same, I’d feel safer with a sword of my own.”
    “You still know your way around steel?”
    “Of course.”
    “All this time in service of the cloth has not softened you?”
    “Is this a challenge?”
    Alaric huffed.
    “It’s not easy to forget when I’ve learned from the best,” Selah added.
    Alaric folded his arms across his chest and sighed. “Aye. The best I most certainly
was
, before my body began to betray me.”
    “Making excuses? That is unlike you, Alaric.”
    “Be mindful of the robes you wear, child. A sword has no place in the hands of a cleric.”
    Selah glanced out the window just in time to catch a group of mischievous children fleeing a candy store. Tracking them with her eyes until they disappeared beyond view,