Valdemar Anthology - [Tales of Valdemar 02] - Sun in Glory and Other Tales of Valdemar by Mercedes Lackey Read Free Book Online

trembling, feeling faint, he stared at his feline companion.
    In place of the cat who had journeyed with him from Sweetwater stood a creature straight out of legend, one every child had heard about in tale after tale. The cream-colored body was still there, but no tabby markings marred its hue. Now a brick-red mask, legs, and tail graced the cream. And the eyes. O Vkandis Sunlord! The eyes were blue, the blue of a cloudless sky, a blue so deep he felt he could have fallen into their depths and kept falling forever.
    A Firecat!
    Â 
    â€œKhar?” he breathed, knowing the cat would hear. “O Lord of Light . . . Khar, is that you?”
    :Steady, Reulan,: Khar said, rubbing his cheek against Reulan’s legs. :Take a few deep breaths, and everything will be fine.:
    The noise of the crowd shut off as if someone had taken a knife to it, separating one moment of clamor from the next instant of total silence. Reulan stood rooted in place, lifting his eyes to the steps leading up to the sanctuary. A procession had formed at the top of those steps that consisted of the seniormost priests of the land, who were now slowly headed down toward where Reulan stood. Though every muscle in his body quivered, screaming at him to turn and run, he could not move. His mouth grew dry and he feared he would choke on the avalanche of emotions that gripped his heart.
    The procession stopped a few steps from where he stood, the expressions on the faces of the priests one of uniform awe. It had become so quiet now, he could hear Khar’s rumbling purr.
    As one, every priest facing him bowed low.
    Two of them approached: one removed Reulan’s pack and the other fastened a cloak about his shoulders, a cloak heavily encrusted with gold and Sun gems. Reulan could hardly breathe at this point, his mind whirling out of control and his heart beating so loud he was sure the entire plaza could hear it.
    Then from the center of the procession stepped the seniormost priest of all who had gathered here, a man his master Beckor had acknowledged as one of the purest souls in the capital. An old man, white hair gleaming in the sunlight and eyes wide with awe, the priest bore in his hands the great golden crown of the Son of the Sun.
    Reulan briefly closed his eyes. This couldn’t be happening! It was utterly impossible! He had never had any desire to do more than minister to his people and—
    â€œVkandis has chosen!” the old man called out, his voice surprisingly clear and more than loud enough to be heard by those who had gathered in the plaza. He lifted the crown and set it on Reulan’s head at the very moment the sun reached its zenith in the sky.
    For an instant, Reulan forgot to breathe.
    And then the glory descended.
    Light, golden light, light that filled him like water poured into an empty vessel. Light that lifted him out of himself into a place where no darkness could ever come. He was enfolded by light, consumed by light, cradled by light. He was the fiery wick on a brilliant candle the size of the universe. He cried out voicelessly in the presence of that light, protesting that he could not be worthy.
    And the light responded, not in words but in something far beyond words. Comfort came with those “words,” along with a feeling of subtle good humor. Could he question the will of Vkandis? Could he possibly know more than the god? And what if Vkandis required a “simple country priest” to lead his people?
    The light, if possible, intensified and coursed through his veins like fire. His heart expanded, accepting the love and wisdom of the god who touched him. He bowed before that Presence, accepting the choice of the god he loved.
    And, suddenly, he saw again with the eyes of flesh. The silence in the plaza beat at his ears with the same intensity that the roar of the crowd had possessed not long ago . . . a lifetime ago. He felt Khar’s shoulder snug against his leg, heard the Firecat’s soothing