The Lesser Devil (The Sun Eater, #1.5)

by Christopher Ruocchio

was a stranger and you took me in. Our Lord asks us to care for those who need it. Quamdiu fecistis uni de his fratribus meis minimis mihi fecistis. What you do to the least of my brethren you do to me, He says

“You know how the Chantry started, don’t you? It was a project launched by the Imperial Ministry of Public Enlightenment in the . . . second millennium? Or the third?” He held a hand to his chin, eyes seeming to read something written along the inside of his brow line. “They wanted to venerate the first Emperor. Old King William. So they borrowed from old religions. Your prayers are Christian, your sacrifices are Hindu. Your architecture is Islamic, your icons pagan. Your scripture is plagiarism, and your canon is politics. And yes, the robes your Chanters wear are only imitations of this.” He touched the gold crucifix and the front of his dark robes. “Even that devil you wear on your ring. That was our symbol before it was yours. Cultures are always built on the bones of the cultures that come before. But your Chantry made those decisions by committee. They walk around in our clothes, pretending to have our authority.” He did set his wine cup down then, and leaned back in his chair. “They say theirs is a crusade to wipe out the Cielcin. We fought crusades once. When men were children. We fought to reclaim what was stolen from us, and to liberate our people from foreign rule. We fought because our people were dying

If you answer violence with violence, you will inherit violence without end. Whoever slays the killer quickly discovers that killers are avenged sevenfold.”