Religious Epiphany
“But why?”
“Because if we don’t, after we die our souls get stuck molding inside a magic wall.”
“Seems very unfair,” declared the first speaker, a small halfling girl with bouncing brown pigtails. She was scowling, her normal cheerful smile currently absent. “Just because a person doesn’t want to pray to them? Then gods are all big fat meanie bullies.”
“Maybe,” said her companion, a skinny young boy with thick black hair and a serious face. “But put it this way, Poppy, big fat meanie bullies who can stick your soul in a wall forever. Worshipping one is really the only logical thing to do.”
The halfling gulped. “Forever and ever?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Guess I’d better pick one then.” Poppy was quiet about five seconds, dangling her legs over the edge of the rooftop the children were sitting on. “Dekkie? Did you pick a god yet?”
The boy frowned, looking out over the splendid view of Surthay that the assassin’s guild’s roof offered. “Promise not to laugh.”
“’Course I won’t, you’re my Best Friend.”
“Very well. It’s Helm.”
“What?!”
“Poppy, you promised.”
“Am not laughing!”
“What was that noise then?”
“Um…a sneeze. Think I’m getting a cold. Anyway…why Helm?” The halfling suddenly put her hand on the boy’s forehead. “You’re not getting sick, are you? Don’t tell me you want to become a paladin rather than an assassin.”
“Of course not!”
“So why Helm?”
The boy looked out across the rooftops again, his black eyes distant. “Because most gods seem to bother mostly with grownups. It’s all money, or making babies, or adventuring or whatever. But I read that Helm gets really, really angry when children are hurt, and he always tries to look after them.” He cleared his throat. “Not that I need looking after, of course. I just like the idea.”
Poppy didn’t say anything, but she did cuddle up to her Best Friend, putting her arm through his. They sat in silence for a minute or two. “So, how do you worship Helm?”
The boy blushed. “Well…I read about burning incense. So I filched Master Gorbia’s herbal shampoo and set fire to it. It burned a little too well.”
Poppy stared at the column of thick black smoke rising from the ruined roof of the Guild’s bathhouse. “That was you?”
“Afraid so. See, I thought I should show my faith in Helm by doing it blindfolded, letting him guide me. It would have worked too, if the sacrifice hadn’t bumped into me.”
“Sacrifice?! What sacrifice?”
“I stole the pig we were meant to have for supper. Human sacrifice is wrong, I wouldn’t do that. I didn’t even mean to hurt the pig, really, just do a symbolic sacrifice.” The boy sighed. “I guess pigs don’t understand about religious symbolism.”
“So that’s why a screaming pig stormed through Poison Class, and broke all the bottles of rare poisons that Mistress Serinel brought all the way from the Far West?”
The boy winced. “Yes.”
“And the horrible noise that scared Master Ignus so badly he sliced his thigh open and had to have twenty stitches? That the pig too?”
“That was me, chanting a hymn of praise.” The boy looked affronted. “And it wasn’t horrible, just a bit sudden I guess, since I was right behind him.”
“Uh huh. So now what?”
The boy looked down at the large group of very angry assassins standing on one of the lower roof terraces, incapable of climbing to the rickety tower where the children were perched. One of them, with a bloody bandage around his thigh, was brandishing a crossbow. “Actually, I just had a religious epi…eppi…eff…vision thing. I heard this voice in my head, the voice of Helm, telling me what to do. ‘Vadrak’, he said, ‘from now on I want you to stick to praying to me. Just praying. Preferably alone and quietly in a locked room. Remember that, and I’ll do my part.’”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.” The boy looked down on the angry crowd again. “And I hope he sticks to his part of the contract, and really does keep an allseeing eye on all children in danger.”
Edited by Laufey, 01 November 2016 - 05:33 PM.
