The ceremony itself barely merited the designation. He returned to the Cathedral with Gareth, who disappeared into the temple complex for a while before returning with two black-clad people in town. One of them was Father Islan Kant, who had once served his father in Mounte Verde.
"You're far from your father," the old, retired warrior observed.
"I've his permission and his blessing," Malik boldly stated. He already felt humiliated by what he was being forced to do but he refused to give up or be forced to abandon the path he had chosen for himself.
Whispers and Gareth be damned. I will not be forced to run away!
Islan motioned to the other person with him; it was a she, but the voluminous robes hid her identity and a mask covered her features. Her hands were tucked into the wide sleeves, and she looked a lot like a penitent. "This is going to be your Whisperer. Do you know what a whisperer is?"
He didn't, not really, but he tried anyway. "They're the eyes of the Church."
