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Chapter 8 - Tell Them Everything

Interlude 2

The cathedral of Negathor rose above the houses, the shops and the art of the emerald city. Its golden dome glistened in the moonlight. On top of the cathedrals golden dome sat a marble statue of a man on bent knees, his head bowed in reverence, receiving a golden sphere.

The bishop of Negathor slept soundly in his bed within the emerald halls of the cathedral. The small modest room contained a fireplace, its embers long past spent, a bed, with ragged humble rags for sheets that rose up to form a warm cocoon around its single occupant, a small candle, burnt down to a tiny standing sliver of wax in a solidified lake of its own entrails and a wooden washing bin, located on a plane dresser.

The sleeping man shifted slightly, turning to face the opposite side of the bed without a hint of a disturbance to his peaceful slumber.

A loud knock on the door sent the man bolting upright, out of his much needed rest. He scratched his face with his frail hand before letting his palm fall back onto the warm mattress. "What?" The man let out a tired, almost inaudible, yell. He yawned and stretched, turning his head toward the door, waiting for a response.

The now awake man was a bit on the old side of life, his hair had run away from him with age, leaving him bald, save for a crown of loose white strands of hair that circled his cranium. His bushy white eyebrows covered his yellow eyes. The wrinkles on his skin accentuated his weary face.

"Father bishop, it's urgent!" The voice behind the door sounded hurried and a bit afraid. It was the very high voice of his head priest Anyohne.

The bishop tried to fight off the heaviness of his sleep deprived eyes. It had been a long day for the bishop. First, he received a dove from his brother of the faith in Grenlov, informing him of the travels, and existence, of the boy with dreams. From that point on he was ordering people around, mobilizing the kingsmen with extra shifts around the city and her walls, calling artisans and printing presses, to get wanted posters up for the people described in the doves message. It was exhausting, but the One God's work was never done; even if the One God called him from his dreamless slumber to do it.

"Come in!" The bishop commanded.

The door of the tiny room swung open. Nestled between its frame stood two men. One man had dark black eyes, he was the younger of the two and his hair was as dark as the night sky, his beard short and well kept. He wore a woolen grey tunic with the gold circle stitched into the cloth covering his chest. The bishop recognized this man as Anyohne immediately. But the man standing next to Anyohne he had never seen before in his long pious life.

The man next to his priest carried a cowering grey cat by the scruff of its neck. It was curled into a ball with its tail tucked between its legs and its ears hanging low. The man carrying the cat was almost as tall as the door frame, his shoulders were broad, his arms covered from his fingers to his chest in thick hair. The man's blond hair touched his shoulders and he wore a dense wool coat made from an unknown animal's skin.

The moonlight from the window hit the cowering grey cat. The cat had dark grey stripes running from its ears to its bushy tail with an underbelly of white fur.

"This better be good Anyohne" The bishop warned, giving the priest a stern stare.

"If it wasn't I wouldnt have woken you. Father bishop." The priest motioned for the man to enter the room and shut the door behind them, sealing all three of them in.

The priest nodded to his mysterious companion and the man threw the cat to the stone floor. The cat bent low to the ground, frantically searching for a quick way to escape. Its eyes wide open, its pupils fully dilated, its whiskers pinned to the side of its mouth. There was nowhere for the cat to go, so it remained in a paralized panic where it landed.

The man gave the grey cat a swift kick, and the injured cat rolled over in pain. "Talk!" The brutish man ordered the cat. The tone of his voice carried with it a nonverbal warning of further punishment if it did not comply with his demand. "Tell them everything!"