"But then she left."

Hederick's face fell, and he nodded. "She was afraid the villagers would kill her as they had killed our father. So she left. And then she forgot all about me. I… I guess I was too sinful to come back for."

He remembered the night before Ancilla had left. For some minor infraction, Con had beaten young Hederick mercilessly. Ancilla, achingly beautiful at seventeen, defended him and treated his wounds. Hederick had begged her to stay with him. "You won't ever stop being my sister, will you?" he'd cried.

"Close your eyes, little brother," Ancilla had answered, rocking him by the fire. The little boy, safe in the comfort of his sister's arms, resisted sleep. She murmured words Hederick had never heard before, tenderly stroking his face and wispy reddish-brown hair. She fed him cold tea from a spoon, and when he tried to speak again, covered his mouth with a gentle hand and hushed him.

Once she rearranged the blanket to cover Hederick's feet, then she spoke fiercely. "I promise you this, little Hederick: I will always be your sister. / will never hurt you. I will protect you with every power I have. I will do all I can, even from afar, to keep Con and Venessi from turning you into … into what they are. You need never fear me.

That I vow."

That memory was too holy to share with this stranger, however. And besides, Hederick was so tired; he felt him shy;self sinking into sleep. Then Tarscenian's voice roused him.

"This village of yours, is it large?" the stranger asked.

"Large and wealthy?"

Hederick shook himself awake. "Sixty people, maybe."

"Prosperous?" the man asked.

"Venessi has plenty of food stored in the barns, but the people don't know that. They're restricted to two meals a day. No one in the village is well-fed except my mother, but she's in Tiolanthe's graces. Other than the food, there's nothing but a few candlesticks in the prayer house, and some icons."

"Steel icons?" Tarscenian asked quickly. Since the Cata shy;clysm, steel had been the most precious metal on Krynn.

Hederick nodded. Tarscenian didn't speak for a while, and Hederick thought he'd fallen asleep. The boy had nearly followed suit when the man's deep voice re shy;sounded again.

"Lad," he said, "I believe it's time for me to rest in my travels. And it's time the people of Garlund learn about some new gods."

Hederick jerked upright, bumping the oiled canvas and sending a splash of cold water down his left leg. "New

gods?"

Tarscenian smiled impishly and extended his blanket to cover the boy's soaked leg. "You've not asked me about myself, lad."

The man had rescued Hederick from a lynx and given him dinner … and listened to his long tales. Wasn't that enough to know about someone? "You're a trader," Hed shy;erick said. "Or a mercenary."

"I'm a Seeker priest."

A priest! Hederick struggled to his knees. The blankets snared him around the ankles, and he tore at them with clumsy fingers. He didn't know what a Seeker was, but no matter. The man was a heathen and a priest!

"I speak for the New Gods, son."

"No!" Hederick shouted angrily, feeling betrayed by the man he'd begun to think of as a hero. "There is only one god. The Old Gods deserted us in the Cataclysm, and every god since then is just pretend, except for Tiolanthe. He speaks to my mother. And I'm not your son, you fraud." Tears streamed down his cheeks.

Tarscenian carefully gauged the boy's heated denial. Some of the friendliness left the gray eyes. "Who do you think saved us from the she-lynx, Hederick? Who fright shy;ened her off … me? You and your clods of moss? Some higher power? Or this Tiolanthe-while we're speaking of frauds?"

Hederick refused to look at him. "You did," he said sulkily. "You had the sword."

Tarscenian cocked his head. "My blade never touched the lynx, son. And what about the explosions?"

Hederick had no answer.

Tarscenian's hand locked around the boy's thin wrist, pulling him near. "The New Gods interceded, Hederick," the priest said gently. "Can your mother do that, by call shy;ing on her god? Can this Tiolanthe himself, for that mat shy;ter?"

"N-no," Hederick mumbled.

"Well, then, perhaps the New Gods have a plan for you, son." Tarscenian's voice grew insinuating. "Perhaps I'm a part of that plan. Who are we to question the will of the gods?"

Hederick risked an upward glance. Tarscenian's gray eyes were direct; the friendliness was back. And yet… "What do you take me for, a fool?" Hederick exclaimed suddenly. "I'm no part of a plan___" He crawled out from under the canvas. Tarscenian surprised him by letting him go-Rain lashed at the boy, and in moments he was soaked.

A few steps away, the campfire still flickered under a scrap of suspended canvas, but Hederick was determined not to return to Tarscenian's sanctuary. Lightning erupted. Thunder crashed through the trees.

"Where will you go, lad?"

"Home!" Hederick said desperately. "My… my mother will be worrying about me in this storm."

Tarscenian said nothing for a few moments. Hederick's words hung between them. "From the sounds of it, lad, your mother worries about no one but herself," the Seeker priest finally said. "She'll not take you back if you return to Garlund so soon, you know. She wants you to suffer. You're being made an example. She craves the power, and you're a threat to her. None of the other villagers has the spunk to take her on, is my guess."

"She's my mother," Hederick whispered. "You've never met her. What would you know?"

The priest laughed. "I've met hundreds like your mother, Hederick-men as well as women. I'm a priest. I run into all sorts of troubled souls who think they've rein shy;vented the gods." He sighed, then failed to suppress a yawn. "I'll take you home in the morning, Hederick. I believe I can make things right with your mother. Why not trust me, at least for now? I'd hardly snatch you from a lynx's jaws to devour you myself, son."

Still Hederick hesitated. "You'll take me back?" He imagined the villagers' faces when he strode back into Garlund with this sword-wielding, towering heretic. "Tomorrow?"

"If you wish."

Hederick crouched to peer under the wide canopy. The rain streamed down his back. "Early?"

"At dawn, if you want." A smile creased Tarscenian's face. "Lad, I'm bone-weary. I walked many miles today. I did battle with a giant cat and, what's far more daunting, locked horns with a stubborn twelve-year-old. The New Gods will watch over us tonight, Hederick. I must sleep now, son, and I won't be able to if I must worry about you wandering off in the rain. You'll be prey to every creature and lung ailment on the prairie." He yawned hugely. "Make your choice, lad. Truce?"

"All right," Hederick finally said. "But I'll listen to nothing more about New Gods."

"For the night, anyway. Good enough."

Hederick crawled back into the shelter, dribbling rain shy;water like a sodden kitten. Stripping off his wet clothes, he accepted Tarscenian's spare shirt, so huge that the sleeves fell past his fingertips. Dry again, Hederick curled up in his blanket. The priest, already snoring, exuded heat like a hearth even though he'd relinquished both blankets.

Hederick was asleep in seconds.

* * * * *

The boy saw Garlund as though through Tarscenian's eyes as they approached it early the next day, Hederick perched on the big man's shoulders. The village rose from the lush prairie like an abscess. Hungry-looking people stared from windows and doorways.

Venessi appeared in the square and halted, struck as dumb by this towering visitor as the common villagers were. She made a gesture for the stranger to halt, and Hederick suddenly realized how short his mother was. Of course, he told himself, wouldn't fate enjoy the joke of him, the son, taking after tiny Venessi, whereas Ancilla had inherited Con's height, strength, and good looks?