Clarion

CLARION

this ceremony as he wanted. He lifted the gun and carefully eased the nozzle out between the rods of the grillwork. His thumb moved to the firing stud. But once again he hesitated, telling himself that the boy stood too close and might be hit by the beads. Another part of him admitted that he was only making excuses. He was an expert with the scatter gun; he could easily hit Brill without endangering the boy. The truth was, Quinton had killed only on two other occasions, and both times he had done so in defense of his life. He didn't relish the thought of shooting High Elder Brill from a hiding place.

High Elder Brill is sick, he reminded himself. He is infecting the entire planet of Clarion with his sickness.

"Lord Tern, Lord Tern,

Lord Tern, Lord Tern':'

The chant was building in intensity. High Elder Brill's hands wove a pattern in the air above the dish of the chauka. Quinton's thumb exerted pressure on the gun's firing stud—then his eyes jerked back to the chauka. The large dish had begun to change. He strained to see. Something was taking shape in the center of the dish, but he couldn't quite fix his eye on it. The image was slippery, like a reflection in a rippling pond.

"Hear our prayer, oh holy king,

Lord Tern the Almighty.

Smite those who would forsake thee!"

After the last rousing chant, Brill and the rest of the elders fell silent. All their attention went to the chauka. The swirling haze in the shallow dish began to take form and substance.

Quinton stared, gripped by a sudden, overWilliam Greenleaf whelming sense of dread. Then the object in the dish snapped into focus. A small sound escaped Quinton. He dropped the gun and put his hand to his mouth, turning it so the flesh of the palm was pressed between his teeth. He bit down until the blood ran. When that wasn't enough to stifle the terror that crawled through him, he opened his mouth and screamed.