All Things Are Lights
Roland sensed his revulsion. "Forgive me for offending you. I had to wear this to get through to you." He dug his ragged fingernails in under the red silk and tore away the cross. The sound of ripping cloth in the quiet room made heads turn. Roland dropped the strips of silk to the floor.
"Who is that?" said Bertran d'en Marti in a voice that was soft yet carried across the room. "Does he bring news?"
Roland strode across the room before anyone could stop him and knelt at Bishop Bertran's sandaled feet. He reached for the old man's hand. It was as light and small as a bird's wing, and Roland's large fingers held it with care as he pressed his lips to the shiny knuckles. When he was growing up, Roland had often heard stories of Bishop Bertran, especially how, years ago, he had debated and won against the famous Catholic preacher Sain