Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
He steps back abruptly, watching me without so much as a glance in Quin’s direction. After a long moment, he turns and goes back into the house.
I drop my face for a few long breaths against the top of Grandfather’s research. Thank you, Father.
I toss the sacredbloom to Quin, who catches the sack without a word, and wrap the books carefully in cloth so I can carry them on my back when we set off shortly after.
My feet drag as we near the luminarium and after a reluctant bow before it I stop moving. Quin shakes his head with a smirk and barks at me to hurry inside. His borrowed cane snaps behind me, forcing me up the seven steps to the arched entrance. When I cower at the threshold, looking into the empty circular nave, the cane meets my buttocks, pushing me inside.
I rub the offended area and scowl at Quin, who is clearly enjoying himself.
Instinctively, I reach out to tug his hair and pull back sharply, grabbing the sack of sacredbloom from him instead. “Let’s hand this over and head out.”
The snick of his cane on the polished floor echoes as he ventures towards the timber columns holding up the dome. It might not be as impressive as the one in the royal city, but there is plenty of beauty in here. Frescoed walls in good repair, and on a plinth under the dome, where the violet oak stands in the royal luminarium, a tithiscar. Only two luminariums in the kingdom are lucky enough to grow a violet oak; the rest have a coffer carved of the sacred wood—a tithiscar—a spiritual vessel into which the local linea gift magic when paying homage.
Our luminist kneels before that vessel and is summoning magics into it, as he does every morning.
Quin and I respect his space, waiting in a niche across the room. The space holds a bench on which Quin sits with obvious relief. “You’re not happy with your local luminarium?”
“We won’t see eye to eye on this.”
“That hasn’t stopped you before.”
I sigh deeply. “When have I ever sworn to the Arcane Sovereign and meant it?”
Quin turns his head slowly towards me and blinks, twice, drily.
Must’ve used that line with him a few times. I flash him a fool’s smile. “I’m not afraid of luminariums, I’m frustrated by them. They are beautiful but shallow. Look at this space, so large and sheltered. Yet it remains empty while so many crowd around fissures under bridges to keep warm.”
Quin grimaces and curls an impatient hand for me to continue.
“Luminism also should not mix with the judicial system.”
“Only misuses of magic are judged based on the teachings of the Arcane Sovereign. Other infractions are judged under civil law, based on Goffridus—”
“Why can’t all infractions be judged under civil law? Luminists should not have the right to execute entire families because par-linea dare to use higher magics.”
“What else?”
“Those who want to believe in the Arcane Sovereign and his beliefs should, but it should not be thrust upon all.”
“It’s not thrust upon all. Everyone has a right to choose.”
“You pay fewer taxes if you can prove you regularly attend your local. How is that a choice? The working class are forced to pay homage with this. And when we come here, we’re to reflect on spiritual teachings. ‘Moral teachings’ propagating the idea that if we live virtuous, modest lives and follow the rules of the linea, then in a future life we’ll be reborn as linea.” I laugh hollowly. “Is this not simply a way to keep us under control?”
“Without rules, there’s chaos. In chaos, the kingdom would collapse, we’d be taken over by neighbouring powers; violence, death, submission. And the rules in those other kingdoms? No better—even more rigid than our own.”
“So the answer is to live with it? To count ourselves lucky?”
“You will not change everything, Cael.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Doesn’t mean others won’t. Luminariums offer comfort. Hope. Community. Friendship. Support. They are part of our culture and our identity. Who are we without them?”
I don’t have an answer to this and am relieved—possibly for the first time—to see our luminist approaching. I stand abruptly and my cloak plummets towards the ground. Quin catches it with the end of his cane and holds it out for me. I grab it with a silent groan and knot it hastily at my throat.
“The Amuletos family donate sacredbloom,” I say, holding the bag out to the luminist.
He takes it, opens, and breathes it in. “Did you dry it for long enough? We want to purify the air in here, not make it musty.”
I smile tightly. “Have we ever given sub-par sacredbloom?”
“It’s not the rest of your family I distrust.”
My smile stiffens and I give a small bow. “We’ll be on our way—”
“Who is this?” The luminist eyes Quin and roots his gaze on his face, like everyone who sees him for the first time must. His beauty is simply otherworldly, they can’t help themselves. “A new face in our luminarium. And such a pretty one.”