Gold Throne in Shadow Read Online Free

Bart’s retainers who chose death on the battlefield over the all-but-inevitable noose. “And when the Saint showed me that there was another way, a kind of life I had not known existed, I offered my soul. But I am not worthy,” and here Torme ran out of words.
    â€œWe’ve taught him to read and write,” Faren explained, “and more theology than you’ve ever learned. He took to the doctrine splendidly. So we thought to make a priest of him, but he is not by nature a healer. A sword fits too comfortably in his hands.”
    Both men looked at Christopher expectantly. He thought he had an idea of what they were getting at, but he couldn’t understand why they were talking to him about it.
    â€œSo make him a priest of Marcius,” he said. The Marshall of Heaven was a war-god, and his priests carried swords.
    â€œWe can’t,” Faren said gently, “at least, not legally. Marcius already has a priest in our lands; if this man is to join that brotherhood, it is up to the ranking clergy to promote him.”
    Christopher scowled glumly. That ranking clergy was him, and he did not want this responsibility. He already had a regiment of rowdy young men to look out for. How was he supposed to pass judgment on a man he didn’t know and deny or permit him a lifelong career of service to a god?
    â€œYou need not promote him right away,” Faren said, misunderstanding his reluctance. “We have already paid for his acolyte-rank, so he will still be of considerable use as an assistant. But eventually your Church will require more priests than just yourself, so I suggest you start training them now.”
    Torme stood silently, awaiting his fate without argument. Much as he had when they had first captured him.
    â€œHow am I supposed to know if he belongs?” Christopher asked. How am I supposed to deal with a man who used to kill people for the Dark , was what he really wanted to say.
    â€œThat’s what training is for,” Faren answered. “Although I am certain he can master the skills, and as for his character, I already told you he was White. Other priests have been promoted on less.” Faren’s voice turned stern, as he referred to Christopher’s original promotion on the strength of a single interview with the Saint.
    It sounded like an order, so Christopher took the out he was given. If it turned out the man was still a homicidal maniac, it would be Faren’s fault.
    â€œWhen do I have to buy him a sword?” Christopher asked, immediately unhappy at how stingy that made him sound.
    â€œNot until he has a full rank,” Faren answered. “He can practice with wood until then. It seemed adequate for you, after all.” He took the untouched slice of buttered bread from Christopher’s plate and put it on his own, slathering it with minced fish.

    As Christopher was finishing his packing for the ride home, he realized what was missing. He’d marched out with another Pater, a first-rank priest, attached to the regiment as a healer. Although the man had fled with Nordland, Christopher didn’t hold it against him, since he’d only been obeying orders. Although Christopher was fifth-rank now, the regiment could still use the healing power of a Pater of the Bright Lady.
    â€œWhere’s Stephram?” he asked, and the faces around him turned to stone. Once again Cardinal Faren was tasked with delivering unpleasant news.
    â€œIt is not the policy of the Church to replace healers who fall in service to a regiment,” Faren said, the absence of emotion in his voice revealing just how angry he was. “One might technically argue that Stephram does not belong in that category. Nonetheless, we cannot afford to replace him.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, ‘fell’?” Christopher asked. “Did he get killed riding home with Nordland? Can’t we just revive him?” Christopher was becoming