Moonscatter Read Online Free Page A

them.
    â€œLight.” One of the dark figures intoned the word, his voice a clear sweet tenor.
    â€œLight.” The response was a beast moan, a deep groan.
    â€œFather of light.” The tenor rang with tender power. It was not possible to tell which of the dark ones spoke.
    â€œFather of Light,” the beast groaned. The smell of the incense grew stronger as it pressed out past Tuli’s face, turning her light-headed though she got not one-tenth the dose the Followers inhaled.
    â€œBright one, pure one.”
    â€œBright one, PURE one.” A moan of ecstasy.
    â€œBurn us clean.”
    Outside in the darkness Tuli felt the pull of the chant, felt the heated intensity of the many-throated beast, her disgust weakened by drifts of drugged incense. Over and over the phrases were intoned and responded until they wore a groove in her mind, until she found herself breathing with the beast, mouthing the words with it, until her heart was beating with it. Alarmed when she realized what was happening, she wrenched her face away from the crack and laid her cheek against the splintery wood, breathing deeply the chill night air. It smelled of manure and musty grain, of damp earth and stagnant water, of unwashed macain and rotting fish—and she savored all these smells; they were real and sane and redolent of life itself, a powerful barrier against the insanity happening inside the granary. She became aware that the chanting had stopped, replaced by the rattle of small drums. Unable to resist the pricking of curiosity, she set her eye once more to the crack.
    A third dark figure (she wrinkled her nose as she recognized him) stood before the basin; his wrists were crossed over his heart, fingers splayed out like white wings. The acolytes knelt, one to the right the other to the left, like black bookends (she swallowed a giggle at the thought) tapping at small drums, their fingers hidden in the too-long sleeves.
    â€œAgli. Agli. Agli,” the Followers chanted as the acolytes beat the rhythm faster and faster, pushing at them, forcing them harder and faster until the massive old granary seemed to rock about the serene magnetic figure of the Agli.
    Tuli watched with horror as people she knew, some she’d counted almost friends, her sister, all of them howled, beat at themselves, tore at their hair, screamed wild hoarse cries that seemed to tear from bloody throats, rocked wildly on their buttocks, even fell over and rolled about on the floor.
    The drums stopped. The moaning died away. One by one the Followers regained control of their bodies and sat again rigidly erect.
    The Agli spread his hands wide, wide sleeves falling from his arms like black wings. The acolytes set their drums aside and each brought hidden hands together, palm to palm, in the center of his chest, sitting like an ebony orant as the Agli spoke.
    â€œThink on your sins, o sons of evil.” He spoke softly, his rich warm voice caressing them. “Think on your sins.” This time the words came louder. “Think on your sins!” Now the sonorous tones filled the room. The Followers moaned and writhed with shame. He wheeled suddenly, turning his back to them, rejecting them, one hand stretched dramatically toward the flame, the other lifted high above his head. “Look on this light, o you with darkness in your soul.” He whipped around, his face stern, a forefinger jabbing in accusation at them. “Look on the Light and know yourselves filled with darkness. Soäreh of the Flame is light, is purity, is all that is good and true and worthy. Soäreh is your Father is the flame that cleanses. Be you clean, you who call yourselves the followers of Soäreh. Burn the filth from your sodden souls, you sons of evil. Cast that filth into the outer darkness, cast out the hag who fouls you.”
    Tuli shivered, fear so strong in her she was sick with it. He was talking about the Maiden, how could he say such things, how