mentor had grown to near fervent worship.
Pyotr could not allow three foolish men and their lack
of faith to shatter plans more than twenty-five years in the
making. He had andwouldcontinue Abasi’s work, and
in so doing, ensure his own place in Sutekh’s hierarchy.
For Sutekhwouldcome. And he would rule. Disbelievers would be punished, and his faithful would be rewarded.
The trials of the three betrayers had been quick—a
private accusation followed by denial, then explanation, then whimpered pleas and finally the thrust of
Pytor’s knife. They had been his friends, hisfamily,for
decades, so he owed them that: swift and personal
justice.
He smiled now at the assembled diners, letting the
warmth of his personality fall upon them like sunlight.
His smile brought the first hints of relief. Taut shoulders relaxed. Jaws unclenched, but there was still a
level of wariness humming in the air.
“The sacrifice will be a sheep,” Pyotr said. The
tension in the room ratcheted down another level. Their
108
SINS OF THE HEART
relief was palpable. “The animal will be slaughtered
humanely under government guidelines. I have made
arrangements with a slaughterhouse. The meat distributed to the poor.”
An instant of silence as all present assimilated his
edict, then smiles returned. The first whispers of conversation grew to a dull roar and, along with the clink
of cutlery on plates, filled the room once more.
Pyotr ate and chatted and held court from his place
at the head of the table, and then with casual insignificance to any who might observe, his gaze slid to his left,
far down the table to Marie Matheson, who sat quiet and
docile, picking daintily at the food on the plate before
her.
