by Doris Egan
I turned back to the abbot. "The tour," I said, "Thank you very much."
Brother Camery was an apple-cheeked old gentlemen with wings of thick white hair that went back on each side of his head, leaving a rosy baldness on top that matched his chubby pink face. He was talkative, charming, and sharp-eyed, with that "retiree look" I was coming to associate with many of the monks. "Happy to oblige," he said, when I apologized for the lateness of the hour. "I often don't sleep until dawn in any case. Many of my duties are night duties."
"Oh?" I said. What do novices do at night, polish the breakfast silverware?
"Here we are," he said. He shook out a large ring of keys. "We can see the kitchens first, or the dining hall, or the gardens, or the library—"
"Is that a library with books?"
' 'What other kind would there be? Or we could see the Arena of Magic, or the Hall of Delights, or the Initiation Wing. Most outsiders," he lowered his voice confidentially, "wish to see the Hall of Delights."
I said warily, "Maybe we could work up to it."
"Then perhaps the Arena?"
"As you say," I said, and we started down the red-tiled corridor. "I understand the meeting I'm to witness won't take place till morning."
"So I hear," he agreed. "Dawn and sunset are the traditional times for a meeting. I'm to be one of the outside observers myself; quite looking forward to it."
We were passing more portraits. There was a wide doorway with another sign above. I didn't know all the words on this one. "What does that say?" I asked Brother Camery.
"The Road of Excess leads to the Palace of Wisdom," replied the master of novices. "It's the entrance to the Hall of Delights." He chuckled. "Given the hour, probably half my novices are in there right now, gathering wisdom." He leaned over and put his ear to the door. I joined him, unable to resist.
There was either an orgy or a torture session going on inside. From the occasional punctuating giggles, I decided it was an orgy; unless the torturers were both sadistic, and from the tone of their voices, about fourteen years old. ' 'I thought you left the world behind when you came here."
He laughed. "There is more than one way to purge desire. It's a disease we're all born with, and here we inoculate against it. 'You never know what is enough until you know what is more than enough.' "
"Do all your novices spend time here?"
"Most do. For some, this is not the way. But the majority of people have a great deal of foolishness to root out. 'He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence.' "
I looked at Brother Camery with some impatience. These sayings were beginning to get on my nerves; and they were very familiar, somehow. The brother smiled back at me benignly; it was hard to imagine him as a pimp, but I suppose he saw his duty and he did it.
On the way to the Arena, I said, "The furnishings here are very impressive. I didn't expect a monastery to be so well-appointed."
He shook his head. "The taxes," he said mournfully. "You have no idea. But we do the best we can. As the inductor of novices, young lady, I can say with some pride that my services bring in a fair sum each year."
"How so?" We were going down stairs, and more stairs. It was making me jumpy, being this isolated with a stranger. I tried to determine if there was reason for my discomfort or if I'd just picked up the natural paranoia any Ivoran feels in unusual circumstances.
"The novice fee," explained Brother Camery. "We generally charge fifty percent of the individual's net worth at the time of application. He can dispose of the other fifty percent in whatever way he wishes."
By now we must be a good twenty meters underground; way too far to yell for help. I said, "I didn't know the families allowed individual property, in that sense of the word. I thought everything was held communally." The whole point behind Eln's mudslinging against his brother was that Ran had separated his money out from theirs, a clear sign that he no longer identified his interests with the family's.
"Most families practice communal financing," agreed the Novice Master. "But one can always ask for his share and resign."
"Share?" It was the first I'd heard of it. "I didn't think a family membership could be converted to money.''
"Everything can be converted to money," said the Novice Master.
It was probably the closest this planet came to a universal religious statement.
He continued, "Often the applicant will put the other fifty percent back into the family treasury, as a goodwill gesture, although there's no rule that they have to. So the families usually come out with a profit of sorts, and they think well of the monasteries and don't make a fuss when people come to us."
The corridor was blocked here by two immense wooden doors. They were bright crimson, with the sorcery symbol painted half on each, and an iron bar drawn across. Brother Camery reached for the bar. As he touched it, sparks flew and the sound of electrical sizzling came and went. He drew back his hand sharply, grasping it hard with the other.
"Oh, dear," he said.
"Are you all right?" I asked. The hand that had touched the bar was turning an unpleasant shade of pink.
"Yes, thank you. Nothing to be concerned about. I should have thought—but the meeting isn't scheduled until sunrise. I hoped we might enter the outer rings. I suppose they put the protections up when they thought it might be used at midnight, and when your party was late they just left them up." He raised his voice toward the door. "May we enter?"
The answer was an ominous rumbling, like a stormy sea. It swelled until it filled the corridor, then faded away.
"Not promising," he said. "Well, I must apologize for having brought you this way for nothing. Still," he brightened. "You'll see it all at dawn, won't you? And at its best, which few visitors do. I've only seen it used twice, and I've been here for fifteen years. Of course, I'm often away gathering up my novices when duels are taking place."
"When what?" I froze.
"When duels are scheduled to take place. My duties involve a great deal of travel—"
"What duels? What do you mean by duels? And what do they have to do with me?"
He seemed at a loss. "You're to be a witness, aren't you, at the sunrise meeting?" I must have given him a look as blank as his own, for he went on, "I understood—unless I was mistaken—that there was to be proper duel magical, to settle an internal Cormallon matter. We were to provide the arena, the outside observers, and the arbiter.''
I continued to stare.
He said, "I'm sure—yes, I am sure—that I'm not mistaken. Certainly there's a duel scheduled. We have everything set up and ready. And I must say, they could not have chosen a better House. No rule-breaking here; not in five hundred years. And we handle everything, so there's nothing for the principals to worry about but their performance. We open the rings to magic, we seal off the arena, we have clean-up crews, even provide burial with our own services, should the victor not want the responsibility." He paused. "Always providing there's something left to bury. Are you all right, child? You look terribly pale."
I said, "I have to go."
He said, "Of course. This way, my dear."
Chapter Twenty
By the time I'd climbed the third flight of stairs I was dead-angry. I left the Novice Master far behind, clanking his keys, as I stalked down the main hall. I saw the boy who'd first shown us in, and stopped him. "My companion is supposed to be in one of the meditation rooms. Do you know where he is?"
He was startled by my tone. "Uh, yes, I can show you—"
"Then show me." I was grinding my teeth.
He led me down the hall to a room in another wing. One of the younger monks was sitting on a stool just outside, and rose to stand between me and the door.
"Excuse me," he said politely. "This is a meditation room."
"I know," I said, and aimed for the door again. He moved to block. I stamped my sandal down on his bare foot and reached for the knob.
His arms clamped around my shoulders, pinning me against his chest. "Excuse
me," he said in the same courteous tone. "Would you be Theodora of Pyrene?"
"Yes," I said, tentatively. I stopped struggling, partly because I felt guilty about his foot, which would be black and blue by dawn, but mostly because it wasn't working.
"I have a message for you." He turned around, taking me with him, and we both faced out into the hall. Then he released me.
"Oh?" I said.
"Your companion asked if you would mind leaving him undisturbed until dawn."
"I mind," I said.
"He said, if you have any interest in keeping him alive, you would please respect his wishes."
Damn damn damn. "Were those his exact words?"
"Virtually. He did not say 'please.' "
"All right." I turned away, then looked back briefly. "Sorry about your foot," I said, not really with gra-ciousness.
The monk returned my gaze. "What foot?" he asked.
I walked away followed by the boy, who had stayed to watch the entire encounter with frank interest. I was glad somebody around this place beside myself wasn't na'telleth.
"Where are you going?" he asked. It was a good question.
I said, "Are there any other meditation rooms free?"
"Dozens," he said. "It's a big place."
"So I've heard. Could you take me to one?"
"Of course." He took the lead. "How did you like the arena?"
"I haven't seen it yet, but I gather it's just a matter of time."
"Oh. I thought Camery took you there."
"It was locked."
He seemed disappointed. "I was hoping you could tell me about it, I've never been in there. I don't think old Camery's been there twice since he lost his name."
"His name is Camery, isn't it?" I asked.
The boy looked up at me with that "we-have-to-excuse-the-tymon" look I'd seen so often. "Camery is an old word that means 'counselor.' It's the traditional reference-name for the Master of Novices. Other brothers have other nicknames; they shift around a lot. But nobody keeps his birth name, gracious lady. It would confine his behavior."
"Confine it to what?" I said.
"To what he expected of himself." He looked confused, more by my needing to question it than by the topic. "Here we are, gracious lady. Meditation rooms can be locked from the inside, if you want to."
"Thank you. Listen, could you, or could somebody else, come by before dawn and get me? I don't want to lose track of the time."
He grinned. "No fear of that, the bells will toll half an hour before the duel. It's a big event here, you know."
"Oh," I said. He bowed and sauntered off down the corridor. I went inside.
The room was small and bare, with a gray woven rug and a pile of pillows. There was no window. An iron lamp hung from the center of the ceiling, flickering.
Maybe I was making a major mistake. Maybe this was not the time to ignore Ran's advice and leave the road of caution. But I was at a loss, I needed answers, and there was one place I'd been taught to expect them.
I pulled out the pack of cards.
Sitting there on a faded blue pillow, under the lamp, I held the cards in my left hand until the warmth of my body heat penetrated the deck. I was not going to snatch. I was going to creep up on them gently, bearing my destination in mind every step of the way. Above all, I was not going to think about how many hours remained until dawn.
It had never taken me so long to begin a reading before. Finally I drew the center card and turned it face up on the rough gray rug. The illustration was the Evening Star. Four-pointed, hanging low on a dusky horizon of shadowed hills, and watched by two figures facing away, toward the star, too indistinct to identify even as male or female.
The star drew me up to it like dew from the grass. I was hurtling through the twilight, the sky around me growing blacker and blacker. The star was many-pointed now, with arms stretching in all directions, touching the earth and the heavens in a blaze of incandesence. Energy surged up the arms to the center, where I was pinned like a butterfly in helpless joy. It was beautiful and frightening.
Back in Tevachin Monastery, the small and worried part of me that watched came to a decision and broke physical contact with the card. Abruptly there came a sensation like a blow to the back of the head, and all of me was sitting on the pillow in the meditation room, unsettled and a bit sick, wits scattered in all directions. Along with the blow to the head came an afterimage: Eln imprisoned in the center of the star. His arms and legs were the star's arms, pinned down somehow and yet reaching in all directions. It was as if he were a starfish— or a spider—even as I'd thought it the image shifted to a luminescent web, and I was kicked out of heaven and back to Tevachin.
Gods. That was one to give you the shakes; I'd never felt anything like that before. And did I have any idea what it meant? Not a clue.
This is doing no good, said one part of my brain to the rest; best put these cards away and let Ran handle things whatever way he wants. Doubtless that was the part of my brain responsible for my sanity—I noticed that my left hand, still holding the rest of the pack, was trembling. I made an effort to stop it, to no visible effect.
How many hours left till dawn? I drew out another card before I could change my mind.
But I was no longer relaxed. Too much information, I thought vaguely, on too many levels. I realized suddenly that accessing what I would call the "symbolic" level of the cards was like reading a line of poetry. There was a lot being communicated—and it was subject to interpretation.
Enough of this, I thought, snapping shut like a clamshell. I'm not one of these na'telleths; give me plain language. And finally I brought myself to look at the card.
It was the Prisoner card, I'd drawn it before. The man in chains melted into a man in ropes even as I watched; it was Stepan. Another man, about the same age and wearing a cheap brown overtunic, walked behind Stepan's chair. He pulled on the ropes as though testing their strength, then nodded and said something to someone outside the frame. I bent over closer, trying to get a better look.
The man in the brown overtunic was Tyl, and it didn't take sorcery to know the person he was speaking to was Karlas. I sat up straight and considered the matter. So Ran had Stepan tucked away somewhere; that wasn't surprising when one thought about it. He would have done that, if he didn't kill him.
Then this was his method of preparing for the duel; to separate Eln from his magic source. In the meditation room Ran could take care of the spiritual side of preparation, but he was not one to overlook the practical.
I drew a third card and laid it right of center. The Traveler, with her rucksack and her staff, striding through a forest in red fisherman's trousers. That brought back memories. Was this supposed to be me? I didn't want it to be; the thought of involvement made me nervous. Then the clothing changed to an embroidered robe, and the staff disappeared, and the figure was mounted—and it was Eln. Mounted, but he and his floater were both inside an aircar, and a pretty luxurious one it was. Traveling fast. The night sky flashed by behind his image. The seats on either side of him were occupied by two brawny men in monk's robes. I watched for several minutes and could see the sky lighten to pearl and Eln's features coming into relief. He was talking to the monks, no doubt trying as host (since I assumed the car was his) to amuse his escorts. The last thing I saw was the jumbled stone mountain of Tevachin Monastery growing in the window beyond.
Almost here, then, or would be by sunrise. What kind of preparations had he made? You would think the cards would be more forthcoming.
I packed the deck away in its case and left the room. The corridor was deserted. There was a long, narrow window at one end, and a few stars were visible through the bars. It was still full night, then; maybe what I'd seen in the final card was the future. Unless it was the past… but it had been on the right side of the center… no, you could drive yourself crazy second-guessing the deck. Keep your first impression, it's usually the right one.
I found my way back to Ran's ro
om. The monk I'd argued with earlier still sat on guard outside, in the same position I'd left him; I decided not to stop.
Eventually I found the main hallway and the entrance. It was not a comfortable place to wait: no benches, no cushions, just a stone floor. Thinking it over, it occurred to me that this was not a place where people stood heavily on custom, nor indeed where they cared much one way or another what a tymon might do. So I sat down in the middle of the hall, facing the entranceway, and waited.
At least the floor was clean.
There was no way of judging the time from where I sat. Hours seemed to pass. A few of the lamps had begun to sputter, and I'd had a lot of time to think, when the main doors opened and Eln came in with his two escorts.
Typically, he was still talking as he entered, his head half-turned to face one of the monks; then his gaze moved over me and he fell silent.
"Theo," he said a second later. "What are you doing here? If you'll forgive my triteness in asking," he asked.
"They tell me I'm a witness," I said.
"Ah," he said, and nodded. "I might have known, sacred custom and all. Wish I had time to talk with you, sweetheart, but I'm running late. You wouldn't believe the problems I've been having… maybe you would. Still, we'll laugh about this someday, if we're drunk enough. Maybe we can get together in the Lantern Gardens some night and give it a try.'' He seemed ready to go on his way.
I said, "This is stupid, Eln."
"I agree completely. Was there anything else? I really am late—"
"Then why are you going through with it?"
He sighed. "When something has to be done, it has to be done, Theo; that's the only universal law there is. I'm as weary of all this as anybody, believe me." And he did look very tired at that moment, not just in body but in mind. "I want it to be over. It's worth going through all this, to be able to say that in a few hours it will be done. Settled. Behind me." He started to move down the hall, then stopped and smiled wryly. "Say, Theo, shouldn't you be lifting off around now?" I blushed. He said, "Nobody ever stays where I put them." He moved on a little farther.
