Page 99 of Blood Sanctuary, Part One

“I assure you, honored guests,” Lio said, “there is no hidden meaning in the goat.”

Master Gorgos frowned at Lio. “Goats and heresy have a long, shared history.”

Benedict’s shoulders twitched in his goatskin vest.

“So do goats and every belly in Tenebra,” said Lord Adrogan. “That window is making me hungry.”

Master Gorgos expounded, “Goats are the choice sacrifice of heretics, who disdain the sacred bulls of Anthros.”

“As our scholars discussed at length,” Lio replied patiently, “one of the founding principles of the cult of Hespera was to cease animal sacrifice and instead offer ourselves as sacrifices to our goddess and all people. The only blood we shed in worship or magic is our own.”

Master Gorgos’s eyes narrowed. “One of the formative experiences of my apprenticeship was my participation in a raid upon a hidden site where heretics performed profane rituals. There were decapitated goats everywhere. The walls ran with blood. Amputated hooves dangled from the ceiling, spreading the effusions of their foul charms—”

Lio’s stomach soured, but he put on a conciliatory smile. “That was certainly not a Hesperine site, estimable Master.”

Master Gorgos sniffed. “Heresy is heresy. But it was an Eriphite site.”

Lio clenched his fangs shut. He heard Cassia’s wool skirt crush in her fists. A growl hovered in Knight’s throat.

Lio looked Master Gorgos in the eye. The mage took a step back.

“The Eriphites never slaughtered their goats,” Lio said. “They believed their animal companions belonged to their god, who had bestowed upon them a sacred stewardship of his herds. The people who slaughtered the Eriphites’ herds were their countrymen. They would often dismember the goats and put them on display as a warning—or a trophy from the humans they had slaughtered alongside the animals.” All Lio’s training told him it was time to stop, but so much louder were Zoe’s silent cries in the Blood Union whenever she battled her fearful memories. “Congratulations, Master Gorgos. You arrived after the Eriphites’ nearest neighbors had already done your work for you. Did you earn your mastery by cleaning up the carcasses?”

The mage’s face flushed dark red. He shook a finger in Lio’s face. “You seem to know a great deal about these killings you claim your cult does not commit. Heresy is heresy.”

“Look there, Master Gorgos.” Cassia pointed across the path between the pavilions. “The culinary crafters have fine spirits on display. The fire god’s spirits you brew at the Sun Temple must make you an expert. Will you not come along with me and give me a lesson in sacred libations?”

Lio bit his tongue and watched in misery as Cassia cleaned up the mess he had just made. Within moments, she smoothed the mage’s feathers and sent his pride aloft, and she succeeded in coaxing the Tenebrans away from a confrontation with Lio. Knight, with his hackles up, stalked Master Gorgos.

None of Lio’s colleagues said anything. He bowed to the other glassmakers and headed for the back exit of the pavilion.

Master Philo stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I am glad to see your devotion to diplomacy has not made you forget your higher duties.”

Lio hesitated, then clasped his teacher’s wrist once more. “Thank you, Master. I needed to be reminded.”

Master Philo nodded and let him go.

Lio escaped. He took side paths to the back of the smith’s pavilion and sat down outside on a stone bench. He leaned back against one of Laskara’s statues. He banged his head on the scroll poking out of the long-dead philosopher’s hand. Lio rubbed the back of his skull. He had read that scroll during his studies with his uncle, and it had had a similar effect his brain.

Mak poked his head out of the back of the pavilion, frowned, and joined Lio. “You’re supposed to come through the front with the embassy so I can impress them with my least-offensive wrought iron dressing stool.”

“Yes, I was supposed to stay with the embassy after their stop at the glassmakers’ pavilion and be touring the rest of the fair with them even now. But I’d best give them time to cool off first, then discover if I can rejoin them, make up for lost time, and somehow get back on the script Cassia and I rehearsed.”

Mak winced. “What did Chrysanthos say?”

“The Cordians are all lurking at the calligraphers’ pavilion as if they can spy our magical secrets in the ink pots.”

“With Kia and Aunt Komnena to keep an eye on them, what’s the worry?”

Lio sighed. “I offended Master Gorgos.”

Mak sat down next to him. “You’re off your game tonight.”

“A whimsical portrait of a goat is enough to cause disaster! If we don’t want to lose the ground we gained by apologizing for Phaedros, we have to try harder. I have to do better.”

“The mage got his robes in a twist over your window?”

“No, he got angry when I insulted him to his face, after Zoe’s window reminded him of the time he raided an Eriphite refuge.”

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