AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Why would Michalo call her valuable? Why would he describe her as an opportunity? Why would he complain that she would not do as she was asked? If she had tried to destroy the city, as Michalo asserted, that would be a reason to keep her incarcerated and powerless—but it would not be a reason to keep returning to her, trying to force her to cooperate in a scheme she clearly resisted.
If she had tried to destroy the city, the temple would have destroyed her. She had tried towithholdsomething, something that the high divine wanted.
Something in her blood.
No, Brandon was sure, whatever her unlikely tale might be, it was true. And he was more committed to her than ever.
Chapter Nineteen:
Pietro
It wasn’t long before Stollo convinced Pietro to begin doing volunteer work on the eastern edge of the city. The worst part of town.
Pietro had continued to show up regularly at the temple’s distribution center, in part because he didn’t know how else to spend his days. Now that he wasn’t wandering the length and breadth of the continent, he no longer had travel as his occupation; he needed some kind of purpose. The city library had a gloriously diverse collection of books, and he had made reading a staple of his evenings. Additionally, he had started to cook elaborate meals, an activity that had never before interested him in the slightest, and shopping for ingredients could take even longer than preparing any dish. And every once in a while, Cody dropped by to spend an hour talking or to take Pietro on an improbable tour of some unfamiliar part of the city. It was through Cody’s efforts that Pietro had finally managed to acquire a few more furnishings for his apartment, including a comfortable sofa and a kitchen table and chairs.
But many hours still stretched out before him, empty and echoing. And lonely.
Stollo was the easiest of companions, always cheerful, always filled with so much enthusiasm that he never required an infusion of energy from anyone else. They had fallen into the habit of going out for dinner once or twice a week, and over their meals they would debate philosophy, dissect history, and discuss books. Now and then they touched on religion, but in an abstract fashion, never talking about the activities of the current temple administration. Nonetheless, Pietro came away with the impression that Stollo didn’t agree with many of the high divine’s policies or practices. Stollo was a reformer who believed the temple should serve the poorest and most vulnerable populations, regardless of cost. Harlo tended to take a conservative approach to problems—until he embraced shocking, extreme solutions. Even Stollo, Pietro thought, would not approve of some of the high divine’s actions.
During one of their outings, Stollo casually mentioned that he spent his free hours volunteering at a school in the eastern slum. Pietro tried unsuccessfully to keep the astonishment from his face. He had lived in the city most of his life and spent only a handful of uncomfortable hours in that part of town.
“Assuming you survive your trips there,” he said, “what do you do?”
“Whatever they need. Sometimes teachers ask me to meet with a student who is struggling to read or to understand simple math. Sometimes they ask me to talk to a whole classroom about how to run a business or how to present themselves to strangers when they’re looking for employment. Sometimes I just sit in the hallway and talk to anyone who seems to need a conversation.”
Pietro nodded. He was familiar with that last part of the job. He had provided plenty of impromptu counseling to teen girls or middle-aged men who approached him with some kind of casual, innocuous remark, acting as if they didn’t need insight from anybody. He had often thought this was the most valuable work he had ever done. “And this is part of your temple duties?”
“Oh, no. I go on my own.”
Pietro shook his head, holding back a smile. “You are clearly trying to enter the lists as the holiest and kindest of men.”
Stollo laughed. “No! I assure you, I am as selfish and mean-spirited as the best of them! Just this morning I was very put out when the laundress didn’t arrive in time with my clean robes and I had to put on the same one I wore yesterday.”
“But then you reminded yourself that you had clothes and shoes and decent food and a warm bed, when so many don’t, and your mood instantly improved.”
“Well,” Stollo said. “Yes.”
“And you didn’t actually rebuke the laundress.”
“Of course not! She tries so hard. And she’s practically a child still.”
“I hold to my original opinion.”
“You could join me some afternoon, if you like,” Stollo said. “They always need more volunteers. And you’re good with people.”
“I’m good with people when I’m not fearing for my life.”
“Nonsense. You’ll be with me. No one ever harms a priest.”
That was pretty close to the truth—Pietro couldn’t remember the last time anyone wearing the temple quatrefoil had been attacked in the city. And it was false to imply that he was worried about his safety—these days he was so conscious of the ephemerality of life that the specter of death seemed like a familiar and unalarming companion. “I just never considered going down there before,” he admitted. “It just seemed like a place to stay away from.”
“It’s not,” said Stollo. “It’s a place where you can do real good.”
So Pietro had accompanied Stollo on his next outing to the eastern neighborhood, a place so ramshackle and tumbledown it looked like it had been hit by a localized quake. He had entered the sagging brick building that served as a school and watched several dozen ragged children swarm around Stollo, clamoring excitedly for his attention. He had observed Stollo laugh and extend his arms, trying with a single gesture to embrace them all. He had thought,I was never this good.Even when I was a good man.
Pietro had done his part, too, reading stories aloud to the class and conducting private tutoring sessions in the hallway with young boys who seemed less interested in learning how to read than in holding the undivided attention of an adult. Was he having any effect on their well-being, doing any good at all? It was impossible to tell. Yet the work soothed him. At least he could say he was doing no harm. That was more than he could claim about some of his activities in the past.
At any rate, he liked the way this new commitment shaped his life and became part of his routine. Now he was spending three days a week at the temple distribution center, two days at the school. That meant that he saw Stollo five times every week, though they didn’t end every one of their outings with a meal. In fact, there were many days at the distribution center that they only exchanged a few words before one of them took off for another appointment.
