Silent Hall by NS Dolkart Page A

didn’t. Oh, well. Hunter had never been very good at explaining himself. Father and Kataras were outgoing, talkative people, but Hunter and his mother were quiet by nature. When he was having a bad day, Hunter used to go and sit with Mother in her room. They never spoke, but he would sit beside her and polish his shield while she did needlework. An hour of their focused silence always made him feel better.
    â€œThe day before what?” said Narky, and Phaedra asked, “What did the Oracle say?” Bandu said nothing, but she was looking at him in that unsettling way of hers.
    â€œFather asked how to give me a long life,” Hunter said, feeling their eyes on him. “The Oracle told him to send me away from Tarphae on the first ship he could find.”
    â€œMakes sense,” said Narky. “But I don’t see why that would make Ravennis send a bunch of crows after you now.”
    Neither did Hunter, but it was the only connection he could think of. “Maybe we should ask,” he said.
    â€œOh, sure,” Narky said, and stepped toward the crowd of birds. “O holy birds, what are you here for?”
    A crow flew at his head, cawing furiously, and Narky had to duck and beat it off with a cry of surprise. Criton laughed, but the others were solemn.
    â€œDon’t insult the Gods,” Phaedra scolded. “Have you learned nothing? Our people were killed by a God, possibly because someone was foolish enough to insult one. The Gods take these slights seriously.”
    â€œWhy should they?” Narky asked, looking rueful.
    â€œNow is not the time,” she said sternly. “I suggest you apologize to Ravennis as soon as you get the chance. Through sacrifice,” she added, when it looked as though Narky might make a sarcastic apology to the murder of crows.
    Hunter sighed. “What I meant was, we should go see the Oracle and ask what we’ve done to anger Ravennis.”
    â€œThe Oracle is at Laarna,” Phaedra said. “North of Atuna.”
    â€œWhere do you learn these things?” Narky asked.
    As they turned northward, the crows took flight. It gave Hunter an ominous feeling. He did not think the birds would leave them alone for long.
    After some time, Bandu asked, “What is oracle?”
    Phaedra explained it to her, as best she could. It seemed that Phaedra had studied continental religions extensively. When she had finished explaining about oracles, she expounded upon the nature of Gods, Their servants, and Their need for humans to do Their work.
    â€œThe Gods are infinitely greater and more powerful than people,” she said at one point, “but that doesn’t mean They don’t need us, because Their power is remote. I like the way Katinaras puts it best. He likens the heavens to a wire mesh, with the Gods on one side and our world on the other. The Gods are huge and powerful, but that makes Them too big to fit through the gaps in the mesh. Only Their fingers are small enough to fit through, so as powerful as They are, Their power does have limits in this world. Especially when They’re opposed by another God.
    â€œThey’re not really fingers, of course, Bandu, that’s only a metaphor. A metaphor is – well, no, let’s not get into that. But that’s why the Gods pay so much attention to what we people do. When we worship Them and give Them sacrifices, we strengthen the fingers, and when we oppose Them or slay Their followers, it weakens Them and makes Them angry. Because even though we see only a tiny part of Them in this world, we play a big part in Their relations with each other.”
    â€œHow?” asked Criton.
    â€œWell,” Phaedra said, “the Gods are frequently in conflict. Since our actions can strengthen or weaken a God’s fingers, we can have a real effect on these conflicts. If your fingers are completely cut off, you can’t really stand up to your enemies on your own side of