When the Reclusiarch passed back again, each initiate must hold out his middle finger, pointing stiffly forward from his fist. That little knife slashed sharply, circumcising the very tip of the digit, and even before the Larraman cells could clot – or perhaps because the blade was treated with some special anti-coagulant – a sprinkling of bright blood fell like rubies from each fingertip to mingle in the chalice.
This is just so juvenile and I kind of love it. The fist salute is the bird.
