Rojan Dizon 02 - Before the Fall Read Online Free
Author: Francis Knight
could launch whatever evil plan she had in mind, and shut the door on her. The sign in the window was fresh-painted:
LICENSED MAGES , ALL MAGICAL THINGS ATTEMPTED . SPECIALITIES INCLUDE INSTANT COMMUNICATION , MIND - READING , PEOPLE FOUND AND THINGS REARRANGED . DISCRETION GUARANTEED . FEES AVAILABLE ON REQUEST .
Licensed mages: that was very new and I liked that part. It meant I didn’t have to hide from the guards any more. Sadly, the general population wasn’t as quick to give up years of Ministry-induced prejudice. Neither was the Ministry if truth be told, but we had them by the bollocks and they knew it. They needed us if they wanted this city to live, if they wanted any of the little power they were getting, if they wanted Trade up and running, and they did. If only they’d tell everyone else that—we’d had two arson attempts in the few weeks since mages had become legal again.
Of course, Ministry being the pucker-arsed and slow-moving behemoth it was, and also being in control of everything from the flow of food to what news was allowed out, I wasn’t holding my breath. Even with a new archdeacon, it was taking far too long to change. Wouldn’t have surprised me to discover they weren’t telling people on purpose—not many people knew about my and Pasha’s little sideline in the lab, all that was keeping the few lights on the walkways lit, the little heat going. Then again, given the current feelings about mages, I wasn’t sure I wanted them to.
Maybe that was why there were so many guards on the walkway outside. It was wide and solid here, and my nerves were grateful for it, but it gave them more room. They’d been patrolling a lot more lately as food and heat and light grew scarcer, and, with few left with any jobs to keep them occupied now the factories were shut, tempers had begun to fray. Two of the guards lounged on a now-useless carriage, all its brass icons of saints and martyrs dull in the dim light, its Glow tube black and dead. I hurried past—my ever so slightly illegal past was still too fresh in my mind.
The doors of the temple were open, shedding soft candlelight on to the street, making it look almost, but not quite, habitable. The prayers reached even out here and the boy seemed to perk up. Downsiders—so raw and visceral about their beliefs. So different from the sort of insipid piety the Ministry insisted upon.
Pasha shot me a sly look over his shoulder as he went in with the boy—he always went to temple before we went to the lab. “You should come in. You never know, you might see something you like. We’ve got a guest preacher. Besides, I said I’d meet Jake.”
That was just cruel.
I stood outside for what seemed an hour but was probably only a minute. To go in, or not? Me and the Goddess have an arrangement; I don’t believe in her, she doesn’t dick about with my life. Of course, what with the Ministry being what it is and all that piety sloshing around, whatever form it took, it’s not a view I admit to just anyone. I like my limbs where they are.
In the end, it was the thought of Jake that made me go in. As soon as I got past the vestibule, I could see how things had changed. The saints and martyrs stood where they should, all blank-eyed statues with the faithful doing their duty at their feet in turn. There was Namrat, the tiger, the stalker, with a black cloth over his face, as was proper. The lights were bright but somehow dim at the same time, covering everything in a subtle glow. Behind the chanted prayers, silence seemed to flow from the walls, from the shush of feet on the carpet runner up the aisle. I may not be a believer, but I’ve always appreciated the serenity in temples, the reverent hush, yet there was something else here today, something extra.
The blandness that Ministry had insisted upon for so long had been encroached upon by vivacity. Behind the altar there were two murals instead of the old single one. On the right, the
LICENSED MAGES , ALL MAGICAL THINGS ATTEMPTED . SPECIALITIES INCLUDE INSTANT COMMUNICATION , MIND - READING , PEOPLE FOUND AND THINGS REARRANGED . DISCRETION GUARANTEED . FEES AVAILABLE ON REQUEST .
Licensed mages: that was very new and I liked that part. It meant I didn’t have to hide from the guards any more. Sadly, the general population wasn’t as quick to give up years of Ministry-induced prejudice. Neither was the Ministry if truth be told, but we had them by the bollocks and they knew it. They needed us if they wanted this city to live, if they wanted any of the little power they were getting, if they wanted Trade up and running, and they did. If only they’d tell everyone else that—we’d had two arson attempts in the few weeks since mages had become legal again.
Of course, Ministry being the pucker-arsed and slow-moving behemoth it was, and also being in control of everything from the flow of food to what news was allowed out, I wasn’t holding my breath. Even with a new archdeacon, it was taking far too long to change. Wouldn’t have surprised me to discover they weren’t telling people on purpose—not many people knew about my and Pasha’s little sideline in the lab, all that was keeping the few lights on the walkways lit, the little heat going. Then again, given the current feelings about mages, I wasn’t sure I wanted them to.
Maybe that was why there were so many guards on the walkway outside. It was wide and solid here, and my nerves were grateful for it, but it gave them more room. They’d been patrolling a lot more lately as food and heat and light grew scarcer, and, with few left with any jobs to keep them occupied now the factories were shut, tempers had begun to fray. Two of the guards lounged on a now-useless carriage, all its brass icons of saints and martyrs dull in the dim light, its Glow tube black and dead. I hurried past—my ever so slightly illegal past was still too fresh in my mind.
The doors of the temple were open, shedding soft candlelight on to the street, making it look almost, but not quite, habitable. The prayers reached even out here and the boy seemed to perk up. Downsiders—so raw and visceral about their beliefs. So different from the sort of insipid piety the Ministry insisted upon.
Pasha shot me a sly look over his shoulder as he went in with the boy—he always went to temple before we went to the lab. “You should come in. You never know, you might see something you like. We’ve got a guest preacher. Besides, I said I’d meet Jake.”
That was just cruel.
I stood outside for what seemed an hour but was probably only a minute. To go in, or not? Me and the Goddess have an arrangement; I don’t believe in her, she doesn’t dick about with my life. Of course, what with the Ministry being what it is and all that piety sloshing around, whatever form it took, it’s not a view I admit to just anyone. I like my limbs where they are.
In the end, it was the thought of Jake that made me go in. As soon as I got past the vestibule, I could see how things had changed. The saints and martyrs stood where they should, all blank-eyed statues with the faithful doing their duty at their feet in turn. There was Namrat, the tiger, the stalker, with a black cloth over his face, as was proper. The lights were bright but somehow dim at the same time, covering everything in a subtle glow. Behind the chanted prayers, silence seemed to flow from the walls, from the shush of feet on the carpet runner up the aisle. I may not be a believer, but I’ve always appreciated the serenity in temples, the reverent hush, yet there was something else here today, something extra.
The blandness that Ministry had insisted upon for so long had been encroached upon by vivacity. Behind the altar there were two murals instead of the old single one. On the right, the
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