A Faithful Confessor

The bishop's palace was greater in opulence than Cobny, and second in size only to the cathedral itself in the city. There was a low wall around it to hide its gardens from the eyes of the unwashed masses. Marhaw walked briskly through them arm in arm with Rachel, impatient to receive the next juicy bit of gossip. She'd never heard of him breaking his vow of secrecy, but even if a priest stayed faithful, she knew they surely enjoyed saucy confessions most of all.

His novice was still sweeping out his offices when they arrived. "Get out, boy," snapped the bishop. The novice made himself scarce. Rachel sat in the chair by the roaring fire and enjoyed its warmth. Losk was a cold city, in body and soul. The bishop stood by her side and took her hand. "You know that I am your servant in all things, my lady. The gods don't hold your sins against you. Or the sins of others!"

Her eyes gleamed with gratitude as she smiled up at him. "I've always thought I could trust you, Your Grace." Marhaw said nothing, but looked expectantly at her. A man could only dine on formalities for so long. Only by saying in private she had made him ravenous. "I still think I'm coming to terms with everything that happened at Ughelor..." she said.

"Only natural, child."

"That man. I don't like to say his name." She slowly looked from his hand up to his face. That day she had come to the cathedral in a bodiced dress, and from where he stood she knew he couldn't help but stare down at her cleavage.

"Cador."

I know his name, you dullard, she thought, affecting hesitancy. "There's... something I haven't told you, about my time there. Or anyone. If my father knew, I'm afraid he'd throw me out forever. Oh, Your Grace, I just don't know if I could survive it!"

Marhaw nodded pastorally. "Tell me all, my lady. The gods will hold nothing against you."

She couldn't help herself from smiling. "I know, Lord Marhaw. You're so kind." She took in a breath, the image of a blushing noble girl summoning the strength to face her own failings. "I wanted to resist him, I truly did. But he has... powers. Horrible magic."

"Yes," said Marhaw, holding his breath with excitement.

"In my mind, I never betrayed the gods. But my body. He made me consort... with them. Devils."

The bishop looked on the verge of asphyxiation. "My lady, evil people are capable of powerful deceptions. And those working in concert with the monsters of the underworld all the more. Tell me exactly what he made you do, so that you can purify your heart. The gods will forgive you."

Rachel withdrew her hands from his, as if terrified; the girl he saw, depending on his mercy, wanted to believe him. But she feared the truth would exhaust even his unimaginably vast benevolence. If only that girl could see that he had her best interests at heart, the bishop liked to think. Then she would open herself to him. Rachel raised her violet eyes, deep as the sea, to look at him. "There was one horrible night," she began.