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. . and that he had been required to bring a Book of Toren with him-necessary
for the details behind his speeches.
A whispering began to fill the Temple, and Trystin boosted his voice to almost
booming power.
"Once was a son of God betrayed, and once was a prophet betrayed, and yet in
the years in which we live another has been betrayed . . . betrayed by hatred
and betrayed by another false god. Our God is a God of love, and He has stood
by us while we have followed hatred and destruction, for He is a God of love.
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He has stood by us while we have hunted down our fellows . - ." ". . . heresy
. . ." ". . . get the controls .. ." ". . . they're locked . . ."
Trystin kept a straight face even as he could hear the priests muttering, then
he turned and pointed at the two behind the Revelator.
"You have betrayed the Prophet, and the son of God and man, who sits at the
right hand of the Father." As he spoke, he tweaked the controls, and the
red-light laser flared across the two, illuminating them, but not harming
either. "For lo, another will come to sit at the left hand of the Father."
Luckily, juggling the multiple controls mentally was not nearly so difficult
as juggling the inputs on a translation ship, but how the results of his
juggling would impact the Revenant beliefs-that would be another question.
Trystin turned toward Archbishop Jynckia, and another cone of sparklelight
surrounded the white-haired archbishop with the tanned face and kindly smile.
"You have been guilty of hatred and hypocrisy-even so, the Lord will take you
unto Him."
The desperate mutterings and adjustments from the control booth simmered
through him, and he tried to put them out of mind, even as he held to the
control locks. ". . . madman . . ."
". . . Kersowin and Jynckia . . . have your heads . . ." Trystin, under the
cover of the sparklelight, removed and powered the laser handpiece and grip,
then raised his hands, directing the sparklelaser focus around him so that he
shimmered and shone.
"The Lord has offered you love, and you have rejected that love. The Lord has
asked you to love thy neighbor as thyself, and you have not. How can you bring
the word of the Lord to your neighbor when you kill that neighbor before you
come close enough to speak? How can you kill and speak of love in the name of
your Lord? Yet, in the name of the Lord will I love you as I love myself-so I
can do no less for me than for you."
As he spoke, he pointed the small, comparatively wide-focused laser on
Jynckia, and with a precision only possible through the implant and enhanced
reflexes, swept it down the white-clothed figure, raising a shower of sparks
and ashes. In little more than instants, the flames rose from the antique
wooden box where the archbishop had been sitting.
Trystin didn't let himself feel any relief. The trickiest part was yet to
come-portraying himself as prophet and sacrifice . . . and escaping it.
Trystin turned back to the stunned congregation, continuing with his prepared
text and boosted speech.
"You know the Lord, and the Lord knows you in your hearts. Judge not, lest you
be judged, and yet, I say unto you, even as He will raise this Temple in less
than three days, yes, even in the quickness of time, will He also give me for
you, for someone must speak for you. You who would not speak for love. For
you, someone must speak. For you, someone must offer forgiveness. Someone must
atone for you-both now and in the fullness of time."
Someone had to do something-that he knew, but he still fought the sense of
hypocrisy all the way through the words. With the last syllable, Trystin
triggered his reflexes into high speed and called in both the light cloak, and
the projections. He stepped back behind the cloak of blinding light, and
pointed the laser at the golden carpet, letting the smoke and fire grow, while
the projections showed only flame.
Light flared through the Temple, light so brilliant that all the Revenants
blinked, and their eyes watered. As they blinked and as they wept in spite of
themselves, a figure in white blazed into smoke right on the steps between the
podiums. That tall figure seemed to grow, to glimmer with golden light. Then
it crumpled and vanished into trails of smoke, leaving only a burned circular
space and ashes drifting through the air.
At the same time, Trystin filled the Temple with the deepest of the subsonics,
then slipped through the back door into a sort of robing room, even as the
lights dimmed, and those in the Temple rubbed their eyes again.
His hands were reddened, lightly burned, because the sparklelaser generated
heat when it hit metal, and they hurt. Still . . . unless someone had smuggled
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high-tech recording equipment into the Temple, the Revenant worshipers should
have been left with the lasting impression that one Brother Hyriss had offered
himself as a sacrifice for them. With luck, Orr and the others would not be
looking for a dead man.
With luck . . . but Trystin wasn't sure he could count on that, and he still
had to get out of the Temple and off Orum, plus make some appearances as he
departed-safe appearances ahead of the desperate dragnet that would be after
him.
He dropped his reflexes down to one notch above normal, ignoring the pounding
headache he already had developed, and used the Temple system to scan the
area. No one was around, although he could sense the continuing efforts of the
system technicians to unlock the Temple system.
He ran along the empty corridor and around two corners, to the staircase the
system said was there. He bounded down three flights, moving as fast as he
could to exceed the expectations of normal human ability. He'd pay later, but
for now, he needed speed.
He made it to the ventilation and power-access tunnel that led under the
square of the Ark of Healing even before the system registered the opening of
the doors to the Temple.
He nodded and began to run along the catwalk. Unfortunately, the easy part was [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]