“Kre,” the insistent voice continued despite the throbbing headache, and he only wished that it would stop.
“Kre!” Again, with the sharp pain across his forehead and he tried to continue to focus on Bel and Kitalia, hoping to drown out the strange man’s harsh, demanding voice.
Two soft hands touched his own, gently pulling them away from the sides of his head. “Kre, it’s Bel.”
His eyes slowly opened, and he was surprised to see that the room around him was stable once again and the strange man was no where to be seen. Not that there was much to see as the room was still mostly dark with only the faintest of bluish lights immediately surrounding the two of them.
“Kitalia?” he immediately asked, concern for his friend overriding any other thought at the moment. “Where is…”
“Here,” the response was soft, almost subdued. “I am here.”
While there was no doubt it was her voice, it did not sound like her at all. His initial concern was immediately elevated to full on worry, especially as he could not see her in the darkness of the room. He took an instinctive step towards where the voice seemed to be coming from and cracked his knee on an incredibly hard piece of stone.
“You idiot,” she muttered. He could even picture her shaking her head, but at least she sounded more like herself. “You were standing right next to the altar across from me, and the remnants are still there.”
Kre nodded and knelt down, feeling with his hand until he found the cracked stone under his hand. He ran his hand along one of the larger pieces and nearly cut his fingers along a series of sharp-edged spiderweb cracks. “Son of a…” he muttered, bringing his fingers halfway to his lips before he stopped with a sudden realization.
“He cracked the altar,” Kre whispered. “Right here, this is where he smashed it.”
“Who was it?” Bel asked. Her voice was gentle, as it always was, but her tone was sharp and hard, like a steel knife.
“He never gave his name,” Kitalia said, after waiting a few seconds to see if Kre would respond first. “He said he was the former priest of this church, fallen from grace.”
“Ah,” Bel said, in an almost knowing way. “I believe I know of whom you speak, though I have not had the pleasure personally. I have been here many times, but he never makes himself known to me.”
“He asked us to do something for him,” Kre said, speaking up finally. “To retrieve an object buried in the next room and deliver it to the Tehynshin High Cathedral, wherever that is.”
“I thought you were religious,” Kitalia said with a slight hint of something subtle in her tone. Too subtle for Kre to make out what it was or even to really notice.
“Well, I attend services, like we all do. I believe. I have faith, but I’ve just never paid attention to anything more than our little shared sermons. I’ve certainly never thought about the Church as an actual organization with their own buildings.”
Bel sighed, “All too common these days. Not many priests want to venture out to the country to share the words of the Holy Writ. They’d rather just send written sermons for lay lectors to read out loud.”
Kre nodded, “That’s it. That’s what we called Marxin when he wore that scarf thing, the lector.”
“It’s a stole, dear,” Bel said almost absently.
Kre shook his head, “No, no I’m pretty sure it was his. He was the only one that bothered with it anyway so it might as well have been his.”