Slacker

Yep, I'm a slacker. I didn't post anything this Wednesday. I might as well hang up the towel after that.

Anyway, here's (unedited) chapter 3 of Lifebringer, because in all honesty I have nothing new to say about anything this week.

Hell, it's not even a long chapter. I'm the worst content creator this side of Treyarch.

Slacker indeed.

Chapter 3

Admissions

     This corridor was much like the first, only shorter and festooned with twice as many banners. In a way, it was like a concentrated version of the other one. It wasn't what Wrin had expected, but then when he thought about it he wasn't sure quite what he had expected.

     The corridor ended in an archway like every other in the Cathedral, but the room beyond was nothing like the rest of the building. It was still wrought from stone, but it was simple, utilitarian. There were no banners, no frescoes, no stained glass. The only decoration was a single brazier burning in the centre of the room. At the far end of the room was a table with three men sat behind it. A fourth, the one who had fetched Wrin from the chapel, joined them now. The room was very different indeed, but it matched exactly the floor plans Wrin had studied.

     "Wrinlett Leeve. Who is your father?" said the leftmost Clergyman.

     "His name was Tijun." Wrin replied, voice clear but quiet. He didn't exactly want the Priests to pity him, but the less they thought of him the easier he would slip about unnoticed.

     "Mother?" he continued.

     "Gloria." said Wrin.

     "Were either Blessed? asked the man.

     "No."

     That seemed to be all his questions. He scribbled in a ledger that sat in front of him, then turned to the man beside him.

     If Wrin thought he was nervous before, he'd been dead wrong. All at once a wave of nausea washed over him. Here he was, after all these years, standing in the interview room for admissions. He'd made all his plans, and everything should be perfect, but there was always that shadow of doubt. For a split second, that shadow consumed him, made him dizzy and blurred his vision.

     But he didn't show it. Oh no, Wrinlett Leeve was too good at what he did to slip up like that. It would work, everything had always worked, because Wrin was hard working and smart. That put him ahead of most, and his easy charm put him ahead of the rest. He could handle admissions. He'd made the plan, it would work.

     "Wrinlett." said the second man along the table. His head was balding, and what hair was left had long since gone white, but there was a youthful wiliness about him.

     Wrinlett kept his attention on the man, as he had from the moment the first man stopped.

     "As you should know, this is not a place for those chasing fanciful notions of wielding secret magics. Here you might learn to heal the sick and wounded, should you work at it. This is more a school of medicine than a school of the arcane. That said, in learning here you will be taught the ways of the Hymns, which you will use in the service of the Priesthood to heal, and not for personal gain."

     Wrin started to sweat, but not on his face. He never seemed to sweat where others could see. A useful trait, as one could imagine. The plan should have been in action long ago, though. Where was his interruption?

     "Wrin, I will now have you recite the words, given to you by the Protector himself, and you will sing his First Hymn."

     This was it, the crux of the con. Here planning blended with luck and lies, and in a few seconds he would be running on fumes. But he had timed it, it should happen any minute now...

     Wrin opened his mouth. He spoke the first word, a word he had no business knowing. A word he had stolen from an unwilling tongue.

     Then it happened. A crash, a cry, an almighty boom. The four men at the table stood up in alarm. One spared him a momentary glance, but said nothing as they all ran from the room. Their bodies spoke of urgency and practiced calm, of a rise to the call of duty.

     And Wrin was alone.

     It had worked.