Zandru's Forge by Marion Zimmer Bradley Read Free Book Online Page B

I’ve indulged you in the past, perhaps more than was good for you. Now I must correct that. It’s one thing to bring shame upon yourself by behaving in such an undignified manner, begging for admission where you’re not wanted. I will not allow you to besmirch the honor of your house, not after the way they treated me. And all for what? Do you really believe you’re worth training? Even if you weren’t a Ridenow, they’d never waste their time on you. Of course you have some degree of laran —the Council placed its seal on you in attestation to that fact. But a laranzu? You’ve been inhaling ghostweed to think such a thing. You never had threshold sickness worth noticing, and everyone knows that’s what indicates strong laran.”
    Varzil hung his head. He didn’t know what to say. His father had calmed down, but he knew that tone of voice. It would be easier to move the Kadarin River from its banks than to get his father to change his mind when he was in one of these moods.
    “There, I’ve done all I can to reason with you and that’s an end to it. No more discussion. You will do as I say.”
    Chest heaving, head still bowed, Varzil said, “I will not give it up. I cannot.”
    “Cannot? You are never to say that!” Felix thundered as he jabbed a blunt index finger in Varzil’s direction. “I gave you life, I can take it away again, and you will be and do what I say! Now get on with your packing!”
    Varzil had flinched reflexively at his father’s first shouted words, but he held his ground. “I will do no such thing. I am staying here until Arilinn admits me.”
    “You will return home on a horse or strapped across it with your rump so sore you can’t sit on it. That would be a fine fate for someone just accepted by the Council as a true Comyn!”
    “I don’t mean to defy you, Father. It’s just—just—”
    In a single stride, Dom Felix crossed the space between them and struck his son with a roundhouse punch. The blow caught Varzil on the cheek and spun his head around. He reeled, so stunned that for a long moment, he could not even breathe.
    The impact ran deeper than knuckles on flesh. It resonated along every nerve and fiber of Varzil’s body. Beneath his skin, fire raced along the network of energy channels, which carried his laran.
    Varzil staggered and caught himself on the back of the wooden chair. His vision whirled. Unable to speak, he shook his head.
    “No?” Felix raised his fist again. “NO?”
    Father, please! I would do anything else you asked , but do not—do not—
    Varzil’s eyes swam with tears. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor. One hand clenched the side of the chair, but he was too disoriented to pull himself upright.
    The old man’s face loomed over him. White ringed Dom Felix’s eyes. His lips drew back from his teeth. Veins stood out along his temples.
    Father, no!
    For a terrifying moment, Varzil thought his father had been taken away and one of Zandru’s demons left in his place. There would be no mercy, no respite until the fury had run its course. Varzil knew his father’s explosive temper. Even the family dogs knew when to hide when their master’s voice rose. If Varzil passed out, he would not feel anything after that. It would be far from pleasant to wake up afterward, but he could endure that. He threw up one hand over his face and braced himself for the next blow.
    It never came. A heartbeat passed and then another. Varzil lowered his arm. His father stared at the palms of his hands with an expression of confusion and yes, horror.
    What have I done?
    Tears bleared the old man’s eyes. The loose skin along his jaw quivered, revealing the shape of the mortal skull beneath. Yet the old man’s pride pressed his lips together, holding in his words.
    If he must cling to his pride, Varzil thought, then I must be humble. If he will not be the first to speak, then 1 will.
    Varzil scrambled to a kneeling position, He reached up to take his father’s