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Kingstone
Kingstone
Kingstone
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Kingstone

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Temple novice Katia wants nothing more than to become a priest in the Temple of the Triple Gods. She tries hard to do the right thing, but she's on her last chance to convince Elder Sevanya, the King's Priest, that she can do the job. While she's belatedly setting up the incense to prove she's a competent acolyte, Katia overhears the king's brother plotting to kill the king. She steals the Kingstone to protect it and to deliver it to the true heir with a message: the killer is after him too.

 

Not knowing who to trust, Katia keeps her mission secret. Her theft of the precious stone puts a price on her head and she disguises herself as a boy to undertake the dangerous journey across sea and land to the true heir's palace. Doing the right thing just got a lot harder. Will the Triple Gods forgive her?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 12, 2022
ISBN9798201177034
Kingstone

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    Book preview

    Kingstone - Katherine Hetzel

    KINGSTONE

    by

    Katherine Hetzel

    C:\Users\User\Documents\Bedazzled Ink Business Files\Dragonfeather Books\Kingstone\kingstone-tp-ebook.jpg

    © 2017 Katherine Hetzel

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be

    reproduced or transmitted in any means,

    electronic or mechanical, without permission in

    writing from the publisher.

    978-1-945805-24-0 paperback

    978-1-945805-25-7 epub

    978-1-945805-26-4 mobi

    Cover Design

    by

    C:\Users\User\Documents\Bedazzled Ink Business Files\GusGus Press\LSdesigns.jpg

    Dragonfeather Books

    a division of

    Bedazzled Ink Publishing, LLC

    Fairfield, California

    http://www.bedazzledink.com

    To a certain other Holy Trinity

    CONTENTS

    CHAPTER 1  Katia Comes Home

    CHAPTER 2  Beyond the Master’s Gate

    CHAPTER 3  The Kingstone

    CHAPTER 4  Foogoo for Dinner

    CHAPTER 5  Betrayal

    CHAPTER 6  Losing Katia

    CHAPTER 7  A Disguise Tested

    CHAPTER 8  The Mermaid

    CHAPTER 9  Storm

    CHAPTER 10  The Ministry of Confession

    CHAPTER 11  Another Survivor

    CHAPTER 12  A Crack Shot

    CHAPTER 13  Campfire Crisis

    CHAPTER 14  A Difficult Childhood

    CHAPTER 15  Eraton, At Last

    CHAPTER 16  The Journeyman’s Arms

    CHAPTER 17  Return of the Flower Seller

    CHAPTER 18  Revelations

    CHAPTER 19  Teamwork

    CHAPTER 20  A Royal Appointment

    CHAPTER 21  Fighting Back

    CHAPTER 22  Sun, Moon, and Mountain

    CHAPTER 23  Owning Up

    CHAPTER 24  Summoned

    CHAPTER 25  A New Priest

    ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

    ––––––––

    Thank you to the Bedazzled Ink team for curing me (and Katia’s story) of exclamationmarkitis, and helping to make this novel the best it can be.

    Thank you to everyone who read earlier versions of this novel and let me know I was on the right track.

    Thank you, as always, to my Cloudie buddies, who have helped me on so much more than just Katia’s story. 

    Thank you to Family Squidge, who are (nearly) always ready to listen to my thoughts on plotting or character or dialogue or any other ideas I need to run past someone . . .

    And a last thank you to everyone who takes a chance on a little-known author and decides to read this book.

    Chapter 1

    Katia Comes Home

    ––––––––

    KING BERTRANN’S SHIP slid past Indigon’s famous purple-grey cliffs, far enough out to avoid the deadly rocks jumbled at their base, yet near enough for those on deck to make out the black holes of mine entrances pockmarking their steep sides.

    A bubble of happiness swelled inside Katia’s chest at the sight. Home at last, after six months that had felt like a lifetime. Thank the gods she hadn’t had to wait the full two years to return, unlike those she’d left behind at the Academy. No wonder they’d made things so uncomfortable for her after the announcement.

    Mind you, no one had been more surprised than Katia herself, when she was told she’d be part of the king’s entourage for this unexpected and hastily arranged trip. She wasn’t exactly top of any classes and there were plenty of other novices who deserved the honour much more than she did.

    But—and this was the important thing to remember—you didn’t say no to the king’s priest when she picked you for something. Not if you wanted to get on in the temple. And more than anything else, Katia wanted to get on.

    Tiny lights twinkled high up on the cliffs, lighting the wooden walkways which connected the separate indigolite caverns. Somewhere up there, Katia’s Da and brother Ned would be nearing the end of their ten-hour shift, having worked hard to earn their money.

    A pang of guilt stabbed at Katia but she squashed it quickly. It wouldn’t be wasted effort on their part, not if she tried really hard—

    It looks as though the rock is sparkling.

    Gods! Katia yelped, and with more haste than care made the greeting to Elder Sevanya who’d appeared noiselessly at her side.

    Right hand, circle for the sun. Left, a crescent round the circle for the moon. Now fingertips of both hands together: mountain.

    Sevanya sighed. Left for sun, right for moon, Katia. Like the symbol.

    Sorry. Katia dug her nails into her palms and hid the fists deep in the folds of her skirt. She was still getting it wrong, even after six months at the Academy. Her right hand took the lead every time. She sneaked a sideways glance at Sevanya, whose attention was fixed on the lights high above them.

    How did the king’s priest manage to look so perfect, even after days of travelling? Sevanya’s purple dress was uncreased, her grey travelling coat unmarked by salt, and her pale hair was still tightly braided—as expected of Senior and Elder female priests.

    By comparison, Katia’s own cream novice’s robe was watermarked at the hem and stained with gravy, because plates refused to stay still on board a ship. There was a button missing from her brown wool coat and her hair was sticking out at all angles despite every attempt she’d made to tame her dark curls. No wonder her fellow novices were always finding fault and telling her she’d never make it to Junior priest.

    The beads woven into the ends of Sevanya’s braids rattled quietly as she turned away from the cliffs. Tell me, Katia, have you ever been up there, on the walkways?

    Yes, Elder. Once, at night. Katia shivered, remembering the sheer drop to the rocks and sea, hundreds of feet below. My brothers bet I was too scared, but I went to the first entrance and back. At least the wind wasn’t blowing. Da says when the wind blows strong, the miners hug the cliff face and make sure their safety straps are clipped to the ropes, otherwise they’d get blown off.

    I should think a fair few prayers get said to the mountain god, asking for firm footing up there.

    Definitely. I know I said lots. Katia tried to ignore the fact that Sevanya was watching her closely. She had the feeling that the priest was looking for something, but what?

    Suddenly, Sevanya sighed. Katia, are you sure that you want to give your life to the temple of the triple gods? You don’t have to be a novice to say prayers, you know.

    What? For a moment, Katia was so startled, she couldn’t say anything else. The bubble of happiness which had filled her chest just moments ago burst, leaving a hollow sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Yes, of course I do. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.

    And your family? Is it what they wanted for you too?

    She had to think hard before answering that one. No, not at first. In fact, they’d positively discouraged her, thinking the training beyond her and far too expensive. But once they got used to the idea, they supported me completely.

    By taking on extra jobs and working all hours the gods sent, scrimping to make ends meet, and standing up against those who thought your dream was impossible to achieve.

    But things are not going very well for you at the Academy, are they?

    No, but— Katia swallowed hard. How did Sevanya know that? Surely keeping track of the novices and their training wasn’t something the king’s priest normally did? 

    Your tutors have repeatedly informed me of your poor progress. It is that which made me decide to bring you on this journey.

    She picked you because you’re so bad?

    Katia tried to concentrate on what Sevanya was saying through the buzzing in her ears. 

    The priest looked serious. I am sorry to say that, during our time here, if you cannot demonstrate to my satisfaction the duties expected of a novice after the first six months of training, I shall have no option but to leave you behind when we return to Eraton, and consider your novitiate at an end.

    This can’t be happening. Please, let it be a dream! 

    Katia pinched herself hard but she didn’t wake up, and Sevanya was still talking.

    The temple is not for everyone, Katia. The occasional novice does decide to leave the Academy, take a different course. There is no shame in being unsuited to temple life.

    No shame? Of course it would be shameful. Tears prickled at the back of Katia’s eyes and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop them falling. It was one thing if she decided not to continue the training for herself, but to have someone else make the decision for her? She’d be a failure, forced back into the dyeing sheds or weaving houses, destined always to watch but never take part in the temple services. And her family would never live it down either. They’d been stupid enough to believe their little Katia could make something of herself.

    Sevanya’s next words sounded as though they came from a great distance. You were obviously not expecting this, so I will leave you to think on what I have said. Ask yourself, Katia, is temple life really what you want? The gods will always value your prayers, whether they are said within the temple or out. 

    Katia stared up at the lights on the cliff, vaguely aware of Sevanya walking away. Strange. The lights didn’t seem to be shining so brightly now. And it wasn’t just the lights on the cliff that had lost their shine; in an instant, the sparkle had gone out of the whole trip. The fact that rain clouds were building in the distance and the breeze had turned cold didn’t help. Surely things couldn’t get much worse?

    She’d actually thanked the triple gods when she’d been picked to come to Indigon, but now, it felt like those same gods were laughing at her. They’d put a dream into her head, a dream of serving them for the rest of her life and it was all going to be snatched away unless she improved—fast. For her own sake, and for her family, could she do it?

    Please, let me get everything right, Katia prayed in a whisper, hoping that the gods were listening. I want to be a priest so much, I promise I’ll do whatever you want me to, if you help me prove I can be a good novice. Please.

    She pulled her coat tighter and shivered. The lights on the cliff had disappeared now—the ship was sailing quickly along the coast in the strengthening wind, heading towards the jagged gash in the sheer rock face, which was the entrance to Indigon’s natural harbour.

    The lighthouses on either side were flashing both a warning and a welcome to the ships sailing through the broken cliffs. Legend had it that the mountain god had split the cliff face in two with an axe and scooped out the earth behind to make the harbour, but Katia’s Da had told her it happened when a mighty tremor shook Indigon, forcing the cliffs apart at a point of weakness and sending the earth behind them sinking into the sea. Whichever story was true, the people of Indigon had been quick to recognise the value in such a sheltered place, building docks and storehouses and a road to the town on top of the cliff.

    And not just to the town. Katia glanced up at the man-made towers and walls of the castle, which blended almost seamlessly with the natural stone high above her. That’s where they would be staying, where she would be put to the test.

    She shoved that thought to the back of her mind. There wasn’t much she could do on that score—yet. Instead, she distracted herself with what she could see in the harbour.

    A forest of masts rose from the water, swaying gently with the movement of the sea. Noisy crowds of weathered sailors, richly dressed merchants, and tradesfolk filled the quayside. Supplies from the mainland and far-flung corners of the world—bolts of cotton and silk, barrels which might contain salted cheese or pickled vegetables or exotic fruit, huge jars of oil—were being unloaded and stacked on carts for the journey up to town. Other carts were being emptied of the raw fleeces, cones of dyed wool, and woven blankets which Indigon was famous for, all of them now disappearing into empty cargo holds. There was even a consignment of raw indigolite heading for the mainland, for what else could be carried in a small wooden chest, yet need four men—each of them dressed in leather armour, and wielding clubs—to guard it?

    In the middle of all the hustle and bustle and noise was a single patch of stillness. The man standing right in the centre of it appeared to repel the crowd; it parted and flowed round him like water round a rock.

    The long grey jacket he wore had a splash of colour on the left breast, the distinctive symbol of the triple gods. Half golden and rayed, half silver and smooth, the two halves joined by a triangle of green: sun, moon, and mountain. Sevanya had the same symbol on her travelling cloak, and Katia would earn a black-and-white version of the same when—if—she completed her training and became a Junior priest. 

    That’s Harolt, Elder of the castle temple. Sevanya had rejoined Katia at the ship’s rail. He has a keen sense for detail, used to teach at the Academy.

    Katia’s stomach tightened. She’d heard all about Elder Harolt, even though he’d left the Academy shortly before she’d arrived. According to the older novices, he’d refused an offer to join the Enclave of Elders and taken up a position in a private temple. The same novices had told how he used to make them practise lighting incense burners until the fumes made their heads spin, and how his favourite essay topic was the correct length for trimmed candle wicks. No one had said which private temple he’d gone to.

    Why did it have to be this one? Hadn’t Katia got enough to worry about, impressing Sevanya, without having Harolt’s beady eye on her too? And his eyes did look beady, even from this distance. They were dark holes in a severe face, a face with a high forehead, dark hair greased back over the ears, and a beard—braided and beaded as it should be for a male Elder—which made Harolt’s long face appear even longer.

    Something fluttered deep in Katia’s stomach and she pressed a hand against it, trying to keep the fluttering thing still as a group of men appeared on deck, giving her something else to think about.

    Can we embark yet? King Bertrann demanded, striding towards Sevanya with Sergeant Brand and the royal guard following him. The gods know I’m eager to say Even Prayer on solid ground for the first time in days.

    Sevanya’s usually severe expression relaxed into a smile. We all are, sire. But unless you want to jump, we’ll have to wait for the gangplank to be put in place.

    Colour flooded Katia’s cheeks. She still couldn’t get used to how Sevanya spoke to the king—almost as a friend or an equal. Perhaps spending so many years as his priest allowed her certain privileges? Katia didn’t fancy trying the informal approach herself; knowing what was at stake, she stuck to what she’d been taught and bowed.

    Ha! Bertrann peered over the side of the ship. Bit too far, think I’ll wait. Is Arolf here yet?

    No. But Elder Harolt is. Sevanya pointed him out.

    Bertrann grunted. My brother’s sent the string bean instead of coming himself?

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