As Ririko spoke, the unrest throughout the hall abruptly stopped.
Raised arms froze in midair, open mouths forgot to close, and tear tracks still marked their faces, but the fanaticism in their eyes gave way to a blankness they could not immediately process.
Then questions swarmed in from every direction like hornets from a disturbed nest.
The faces of those who had been praying so fervently just moments ago twisted with confusion, anger, and the humiliation of being duped...
Someone rose from a bench, pointed toward the platform, and shouted:
"Who is she?! What gives her the right to stand there and speak? Who exactly is that sacrifice? We came here today to watch a sinner burn to death, not listen to some woman's nonsense!"
Ririko stood at the center of the platform and waited for the voices to subside a little before speaking again:
"You actually doubt the High Priest's willingness to give his life for you... how terribly disappointed he must be."
Several loyal believers stood up, ready to surge toward the platform.
"We want to see the High Priest!"
"Drag her down!"
Ririko strolled to the center of the altar, bent down, reached for the edge of the black hood covering the captive's head, and ripped it off.
Beneath the hood was Jacob's aged face, his white hair plastered untidily across his forehead, his eyes deeply sunken and faintly dazed.
Jacob Hearn had always symbolized the supreme authority of the Order of St. Dumas. Now he sat where the sacrifice should have been, bound with ropes, his mind unnaturally calm-far too calm.
The surge of movement below the platform stopped again for a moment.
Those in the front row froze in place, while the people pressing forward behind them bumped into their backs and craned their necks