I don't want to start
Any blasphemous rumors
But I think that God's
Got a sick sense of humor
And when I die
I expect to find Him laughing
My attention was wholly focused on the box in Mandor's hand. I heard almost nothing of Jessica's Trump conversations as she prepared her troops.
*click* The bottom of the box snapped open. A secret compartment concealed the flickering blade, infused with Logrus, Mandor said, just as the box had been. I keyed my Knowing. The interference was the same.
The box, that had held my brother's magical bracelet, and the murder weapon. I glanced once again at the symbol on the door, and the vision from Simon's spell welled forth in my mind. "Who's symbol is that?" I had asked innocently.
I had met the Crown Prince only once, at that first breakfast. A quiet, almost sullen individual. I passed little more thought on him, my attention taken up by a thousand other details. God, if I had Known him from the start, would I have maybe gotten a clue that he could be the man who murdered my brother?
It is equally interesting and disturbing that Luke has gotten free. And now Connie has gone missing as well, having come to find me and Mandor and never reaching that goal. He is not in the castle, and that is the only thing I can tell.
Is the escape of Luke and disappearance of Connie somehow linked to our discovery? It's all happening so fast...
It's times like this that try man's (and woman's) faith. I have dedicated my life to the protection of the innocent. I have killed many times, but only in the defense of myself or others. I have sworn to take no life for selfish reasons.
I've never been particularly bloodthirsty. When I have killed, I have not reveled in it, only done what needed to be done and gone on. I have killed countless faeborn, both demons and creations of human visage. And I have killed people too, those so maddened by the fae I had no other choice. Yet I have never contemplated the death of a human soul for no reason other than sweet revenge.
And for the first time in many years, the tenets of my faith give me little solace. The strength of my anger surprises me, since it is for the unnecessary death of a man I never even met. But as they say, blood is strong. And I have never had a family to feel protective of until now.
Oh, God, how am I going to tell my father that the man who murdered his son is the child of one of his dearest brothers?!
I think that I want to deal with this myself as much to protect my father from more undue grief as to punish Martin for taking my brother from me before he ever even knew he had a sister. I am too close to this to be at all fair in my idea of seeing justice done. But I do not know, despite my anger, if I can kill a man in cold blood. Though I know very well that I could step aside and let another do it, as long as I get to see Martin's face, and hear from his own lips why he did this deed, before he dies.
Now I am faced with a decision. Do I follow Mandor to find Martin, and deal with this as my heart would have me do, or do I follow the path that I have always followed, and take this before the king, and hope to God that he can see beyond his own emotions and bring his son to justice.
I would rail against the gods in this, if I knew that they would listen or care. I have to wonder anymore. The god I was brought up to defend is a long way away, and I am in a place that puts little stock in such things. For here, Order is a fact of everyday life and there is no need to worship a god to create a sense of order and security. Here my faith is not needed. It is extraneous. It means nothing.
And yet it does mean something to me, even though I find myself straining at its bonds. It reminds me that Order can come out of Chaos, if you only believe. It reminds me that I have a duty to life and truth. It gives me something to hold on to in this whirl of conflict and insanity.
And it may just save Martin from a painful, lingering death at my hands.