“How then will you seek it?”
“I know not. Search I must, but search is useless. He will come to me if He chooses. But I don’t think He ever will. I am not worthy, and don’t know how to make myself worthy.”
En Jaime rubbed his eyes. It left a red mask. “No one remains to me,” he said on a thin, rising note of terror. “No one but God, Who will not show Himself.”
He dropped Lucas’ hand and walked from the room, out through the entrance hall and the broken main door. Lucas listened for the sound of hoofs, but there was none. En Jaime had gone from the house on foot.
Orio shivered. “Move along, you scuts,” he barked to his men. “Let’s get loaded and away.”
There was too much death in this place. Lucas went out onto the portico. The wind bit and whistled. Weariness dragged at him. A long way back, he thought; will it be as hurtful to as many as were all the miles which led me here? He leaned on a column and wished he could weep.
A footfall sounded behind him. He turned with the jerkiness of worn-out nerves. Djansha stood there in a woolen gown and cloak.
The clouds were breaking up. Moonlight streamed across her. “I could not wait any longer for you,” she said.
If a man is fortunate, there are a few pure moments in his life. They do not last; the doubts and fears, guilt, loneliness, all the grubby little weaknesses return; but he has had those instants and knows life is joyous.
He took her arm and they walked down toward their ship, the victorious knight and his lady.
Table of Contents
Rogue Sword
Prologue
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII