Secret Sacrament Read Online Free Page B

their fine clothes rustled like moths’ wings against the dark.
    A priest stepped forward and said an old Navoran prayer, and the body of Jager Eshban Vala, merchant and navigator, was lowered into the stone coffin. Other people made speeches and placed gifts in the tomb, or messages from those who could not attend but who wished to honor the dead man. The navy commander said a few words and placed across Jager’s body a Navoran banner flown from his ship when he had won a great victory for the Empire. The banner was gold with a scarlet horse and was splendid. Then one of the palace officials read a eulogy written by theEmpress Petra herself, in which she called Jager one of Navora’s most faithful and worthy sons. “‘You brought to our city not only wealth and foreign splendors,’” the palace envoy read, “‘but you brought to it the greatest glory there is—the presence of a true Navoran. In you we saw a man who not only loved the ideals and dreams that first made our Empire great, but who lived them. You were an honest Navoran, a brave navigator, and a wise and discerning merchant. We all are richer because you lived.’”
    Then Lena said a few words, her voice steady and low in the echoing dark. She leaned over the stone, kissed the tips of her fingers, then placed them against the dead man’s cheek. All the children went up to the coffin and either whispered a few words or pressed a special gift into the folds of their father’s shroud. Then it was Gabriel’s turn. Always the eldest son spoke last, then drew the shroud over the departed before the lid of the sarcophagus was forever dropped in place.
    He stood at the foot of the coffin and looked down at his father. Torchlight flickered over Jager’s face, giving the waxen skin a warm and golden sheen. Yet there had been no warmth in Jager, not that Gabriel had ever seen. As he looked at the hard mouth, firmly closed, he thought of all the times he had longed to hearwords of approval or encouragement, and received only criticism. He looked at the permanent frown carved between his father’s brows and tried to forget the image of Jager in his office, annoyed at being interrupted; tried to forget the impatience, the sarcasm, the fault-finding even when Gabriel had shown him something he was proud of. Never had he made his father proud. Always there had been only a devastating struggle to please, and bitter failure. It occurred to Gabriel, with a rush of unbearable grief, that his father had never hugged him, never once given him the smallest sign of tenderness or love. Fighting down the hurt, he began speaking aloud the famous tribute paid by all firstborn sons to their dead fathers.
    â€œWith all my heart, I honor you,” he said, his voice coming out nervous and high. He hesitated, and one of his cousins giggled. Quivering, feeling as if his throat were full of dust, Gabriel went on: “With all my heart, I shall honor all that you have . . . have left to me. I shall do my utmost to live . . . utmost to . . .”
    He stopped, unable to speak the words. How could he live out his father’s ambitions for him when he hated the whole idea of taking over the shipping business? How could he swear it, breaking the vow in his heart before his lips even spoke the words? Despairing, horrified at what he wasdoing but unable to help himself, he deliberately missed the greater part of the eulogy and went on with a safer bit. But the next part, filled with gratitude for a father’s love and guidance and encouragement, also stuck in his throat. So he stood there in the glimmering dark, his gaze fixed on the dead man’s face, and said nothing. People began to whisper. Lena stepped toward him, but one of his uncles spoke first.
    â€œLeave him, Lena. He’s not a child. He’s fourteen and the man of the family now. He can do it.”
    Gabriel bent his head. They waited. The