by Rick Shelley
"I find an unexpected distraction in reading this," Maria said after perhaps ten minutes. Silvas turned away from the window to look at her. "I read, but before I can get to the next words, the memories we share give them to me. I find myself racing ahead of the words."
Silvas took a couple of steps in her direction. "The hours I spent slaving over each page of that. I had to..."
He stopped because a large sphere of light appeared in the room, hanging in the air halfway between Maria and him. The globe was an arm's length in diameter and seemed to be perfectly shaped. At first, there was nothing but the light, but gradually a scene appeared within the globe. Both Maria and Silvas were looking at the image as it formed, and even though they were on opposite sides of the sphere, they saw precisely the same view, from the same angle.
The image of Brother Paul, formerly the vicar of Mecq, was in the globe. He was clad in the white habit of the White Brotherhood, and he was kneeling in prayer, eyes closed, hands clasped over crucifix and rosary. It was impossible to see anything of the friar's surroundings. Only he appeared in the visionary bubble.
"Is this a common sort of occurrence for you?" Maria asked.
"This is unique," Silvas said. "You mentioned the good vicar before. Perhaps that's all there is to this vision. But... first the thunderstorm and now this peculiar image of Brother Paul. What is the point?"
"At least this does not seem to be the work of an enemy," Maria said. "Why bring an ally to mind?"
Behind the words, they shared a common realization. If Brother Paul appears to us, we need only contact him to see if there is some reason. But they did not hurry to follow through on that. They stared at the image, which was so finely resolved that they could see his lips move as he prayed in silence, and they could put the words to those movements. The prayers that Brother Paul repeated were ritual, mostly fervent repetitions of the Ave Maria and Pater Noster.
"What if this globe vanishes before we act?" Maria asked after a time.
Silvas nodded. "Let me make the contact alone. Brother Paul is at least accustomed to my magics."
"It shouldn't be difficult."
"It shouldn't be. I'll try the most direct method first. If that doesn't work, we have a considerable store of alternatives." Silvas's grin was a little tight.
He faced the figure in the globe directly. In a moderately loud voice, he said, "Brother Paul."
There was a short delay before Silvas saw any reaction to his words. He had almost decided that he would have to try something more sophisticated when Brother Paul opened his eyes and looked up. The friar's movements were almost unnaturally slow, as if time were running only half as fast for him as it was for Silvas and Maria. Eyelids came up very slowly. His head raised as if on difficult ratchets. Finally, the eyeballs rotated upward. Silvas could tell the instant that Brother Paul saw him. The monk's eyes suddenly widened.
"Lord Silvas." Paul's words were clear but seemed to come from a distance. His head turned a little to the side. "Maria."
Silvas and Maria looked at each other. Silvas raised an eyebrow. They were directly opposite each other, with the sphere of light between them.
"How far apart do we seem to be to you?" Silvas asked the monk.
"No more than a span." Paul raised his hands to demonstrate.
"We're in the Glade, Vicar," Silvas said. "A sphere of light suddenly appeared in the room, and we could see you at your prayers within the sphere."
"I'm in the chapter house of the cathedral at St. Ives," Paul said. "I see your face, and Maria's face, in the darkness over the shrine to Mary, the Holy Mother of Jesus." The monk blinked rapidly, several times. "There is a thing I had no chance to tell you before. That last morning at Mecq, before the bishop celebrated Mass, several of my parishioners came to me with similar tales. They said they had been visited by Mother Mary during the night. They each described her to me. The description was that of your lady, Carillia, may she rest in peace."
"I did not know that before, but I have since learned that she often appeared in that guise. It was her tie to the White Brotherhood."
"Bishop Egbert explained. We were halfway to St. Ives before he thought I was ready to learn about the true relation of Holy Mother Church to the gods. But that is of another puzzle. I came here tonight to pray because I felt troubled in my spirit. My heart told me that the danger was not truly over, that it might only be beginning, and that you had need of my help, limited though that help might be."
"Have you even had time to begin your studies of the Greater Mysteries?" Silvas asked.
"Bishop Egbert was in great haste to start. He lectured me through the entire ride from Mecq to St. Ives, and when the good bishop's voice flagged, one of the chapter monks took over. I've heard a lot that I never suspected before. Had it not been for my association with you, and that Council in which you bade me sit, I fear that my soul would have refused much of what I have heard. So much that contradicts what I have always believed!"
"Not contradiction so much as a separate level of reality," Silvas said.
"So Bishop Egbert assured me," Paul said. "It remains troubling. And I spoke to him about this feeling I have that the danger is not over."
"What did he say to that?" Silvas asked.
"That there is always danger for the faithful. That those with power must always be especially vigilant. He said that I already possess power that I am not fully aware of."
"That is true enough," Silvas said. "Or you would not have been able to contact Maria and me the way that you have."
"Did I contact you?"
"There seems no other explanation." Silvas reached a quick decision then, and glanced at Maria to see her nod of agreement. "There must be reason behind this. Come to me as quickly as you may. If Bishop Egbert questions it, ask him to bend his mind toward mine and I will answer."
"How can I come to you?" Paul asked. "I know not how to find your castle."
Silvas hesitated for an instant. The means Brother Paul needed came to mind immediately, but the idea seemed improbable, even now. "Take my hand."
Silvas reached out toward the monk, and his hand sank into the globe of light. For a moment, Paul merely stared at the disembodied hand that appeared before him. Then, hesitantly, he reached out and clasped it. Silvas pulled, and the monk stepped out of the light and into the Glade. The sphere of light instantly vanished, without a sound. Paul turned loose of Silvas's hand and sank to his knees, trembling violently.
Maria reacted more quickly than Silvas. She got up off of the divan and knelt at the monk's side. She put her arm around his shoulders, holding him and projecting Silvas's calming spell to him.
"It's all right," she said speaking words over the chanting within her mind. "You know us both, and you know that this is right."
"I'll leave Maria to explain what is happening, Brother Paul," Silvas said. "I feel a sudden urge to consult with Bay."
Maria looked up and nodded. Silvas left quickly. For a moment, Satin and Velvet moved around haphazardly, as if uncertain whether to follow Silvas or stay with Maria. Since Silvas gave them no time for their ruminations, they stayed. He was already gone and on the back stairs, racing toward the mews.
"Come over here and have a seat." Maria almost physically lifted the monk from the floor. That would have been no great feat of strength. The monk was thin, and scarcely weighed as much as Maria. She knew that if it became necessary, she could hold the monk above her head for as long as circumstances warranted without real effort. But this was gentler, an insistent urging that he resisted only briefly.
"Have a drink of wine. It will help."
She gave him her own goblet. Paul had to hold it in both hands to keep it steady. Even so, Maria had to help, her hands over his, until he had taken one long drink and another, shorter, sip. The monk took a deep breath then and finally let his eyes meet hers.
"I thought I was done seeing miracles," he said in a shaky voice. "I had already seen more miracles than any man coul
d hope to see in a long, full life. But now, it seems that they are merely beginning for me."
"Perhaps," Maria said. "You remember what happened in the church, after the battle?"
Brother Paul felt his mind flash back to the scene in his church, with all of the dead, dying, and badly wounded lying around on the floor. The smells of brimstone and blood had been heavy in the dampness of heavy rains. There had been the crying of the hurt and the bereaved.
"There was a light," Paul said slowly, looking over the top of Maria's head now. "It enveloped the three of you, Carillia, Silvas, and you. It hung there for a moment, and time seemed to stop. When the light faded, Lady Carillia was dead."
"In those last moments, Carillia passed her divinity to Silvas, and to me. We share it fully. In our minds and souls, we are united fully, as the Blessed Trinity is. We are one god in two persons."
Brother Paul tried to absorb what he had been told. It went against a lifetime of training and faith, but he kept telling himself that he had to believe. He had seen too much not to accept what he was hearing. For the first time, he seemed to become aware of the violent storm raging above the Seven Towers. He glanced toward the window, then back at Maria.
"The storm, has it been going on for long?" he asked.
"Since Silvas and I spoke with Mikel, the Unseen Lord of the White Brotherhood."
Paul did not hear the name Mikel. He had not the power yet to grasp the hidden names of the gods.
"The storm began as our conversation ended, but I must take you back farther, to the time when we parted between the church and the pillar of smoke that concealed the entrance to the Seven Towers, back in Mecq." Maria poured more wine and waited for Paul to take another drink before she related, as well as she could, all that had happened since she had entered the Glade with Silvas. She told him of the twenty gods that had been and the dozen that remained.
"Thirteen or fourteen, actually," she said, amending what she had just told Paul. "It depends on how you reckon Silvas and me. But twelve of the old gods remain. Six died in the battle that was centered on Mecq. Two had died in earlier battles among the brood."
Although Maria was as brief as she could be in her recital of the events that had taken place in the last several days, it still took quite some time to tell it all, and to give what descriptions she could of the gods that she and Silvas had seen in the Citadel of the Shining City. Brother Paul could not hear the secret names of the gods, but she told him what she could of them, their appearance and behavior. She dwelled particularly on Mikel, and on Barreth and Gioia.
As Maria's lecture continued, Paul found himself occasionally distracted by the storm. He heard Maria speaking. Her words—save those names of power he could not grasp—sank firmly into his mind. But he also heard the pounding of rain against the window, and the wind howling outside. He saw the many streaks of lightning that flashed across the sky.
The storm drew him. Eventually, he got to his feet and walked across the room to the one window, a trifle unsteady on his feet from the combination of shock and wine. Brother Paul had not eaten in a day and a half, and his fast made him weak—and particularly susceptible to the strong wine Maria had given him.
"This storm," Paul asked suddenly, interrupting Maria. "Is it entirely natural?"
"It seems to be. We've been able to detect no hand behind it."
"Such a fierce storm, worse even than the one the Blue Rose launched against Mecq when Silvas brought water to the River Eyler."
"It is still summer, the season of such storms."
"Perhaps I merely spent too many dry years in Mecq," Paul said. "I'm sorry. I interrupted you."
Maria continued with what she had been saying. She had lost all track of time long before the storm outside ended—as suddenly as it had begun. The eerie quiet it left behind seemed unnatural. It was almost more frightening than the storm had been.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Silvas did not try to analyze the urge that drove him to consult with Bay. He merely accepted it and made his departure from the small sitting room as quickly as possible. He took the route to the mews through the curtain wall so that he could get there without going out into the storm. Bay was alone in his stall. If he had been sleeping, which was unlikely with the storm, he woke in time for Silvas's arrival.
"I sent Bosc off to sleep," Bay said before Silvas could remark on his absence. "What brings you out this late in such a state? Did your interview with Mikel go badly?"
"Badly enough," Silvas said. "But that isn't what brings me here. I merely had a sudden urge to consult with you."
"About what?"
Silvas told Bay all that had passed, a detailed review of the conversation with Mikel, the thoughts that he and Maria had shared, and the appearance of the globe of light with Brother Paul clearly visible within.
"I brought him through easily. Maria is with him now."
"I mistrust coincidences at the best of times, and this is not the best of times," Bay said. "This day and night have been filled with coincidences. The first time you attempt to contact Mikel, his sister Gioia appears. The second time, the conclusion of your talk is marked by the onset of this storm. Then Brother Paul appears to you in a globe of light, and you bring him physically to the Seven Towers. Where is the cause? What is the 'why' of it?"
Silvas smiled. Listening to Bay carry on actually eased his own tensions. "While we seek motives, why did I have such a compulsion to race down here so quickly that Satin and Velvet had no time to decide if they should accompany me?"
Bay snorted. "Obviously because you feel you need my counsel. But of all these coincidences, the one I mistrust most is the one that brought the vicar of Mecq within our walls, inside our defenses. Had you sought my advice first, I would surely have advised against it."
"I trust Brother Paul implicitly," Silvas said. "His knowledge and power may be limited, but I know his heart."
"Why did he appear to you?"
"I don't know," Silvas admitted. "He said that I had been in his thoughts, that he had a feeling that I needed his help yet. Once we had talked, I had no hesitation at all in bringing him here. Whatever is to come, it seems that we need him."
"Or he needs to be among us for some reason of his own?" Bay suggested.
"Why do you mistrust him so?"
"I wouldn't say that I have any specific mistrust of him. I am merely suspicious of the circumstances. That is my nature. But there is one point on which you should perhaps dwell. Remember, his allegiance is to the White Brotherhood, to Bishop Egbert and the Pope, and—ultimately—to his Unseen Lord, who may well be our enemy now."
Silvas did not immediately try to refute anything that Bay said. He repeated the questions and warnings in his mind. He cast his thoughts toward Maria, encompassing both her and the monk. With greater subtlety than the Greater Mysteries of the Trimagister had permitted, he probed gently into the monk's thoughts, and beyond, into the deepest recesses of his mind and soul. He saw confusion and faith, and dedication—but not the slightest hint of duplicity or evil.
"His soul is as completely good as that of any man I've ever met," Silvas said slowly. "There is turmoil within him, yes. The circumstances under which I called him to the Seven Towers are far beyond his experience. He has but begun his study of the Greater Mysteries, and the knowledge that was hidden from him before will need time to find its place within his being, but I am certain that we have nothing to fear from Brother Paul."
"But is he master of his own soul?" Bay asked. "Though he be purely good, he might be the unwitting pawn of your enemies, as the knife you use to carve meat at table could be turned by an enemy's hand into a weapon to pierce your heart."
"I'm certain that he would resist with all his strength, and that strength is growing, even as we speak. There is always danger. An enemy might manage to make you throw me as we ride, hard enough to smash my head against a rock, or to toss me from a mountain path, someone might take that knife you spoke of and use it agains
t me. But the answer to this danger is to help Brother Paul grow in strength and knowledge, to bring him along as rapidly as his mind and soul can bear."
For a moment, Silvas gave himself over to pacing. Bay waited in silence, keeping his eyes on Silvas.
"We'll be watchful, but there is nothing new in that," Silvas said when his pacing brought him back face-to-face with Bay. "I may be grasping at straws in a cyclone, but those straws may be all we can hold with surety at present."
"Straws may blow away in less than a cyclone," Bay said.
"I must make choices based on what Maria and I know, and on what our counselors can learn for us. All of these centuries, I've done the bidding of my master. Now I have no master. Maria and I must make the proper choices for ourselves or perish. We have such knowledge within us that it will take an age and more to master it all. And even if we do make proper choices at each turning, we still have no guarantee of survival. Before, my greatest fear was of failing my Unseen Lord. Now, there is so much more to fear."
"Yet, it is too soon to abandon hope," Bay said. "The Seven Towers still stand. There is no storm of dread upon the air, merely rain and wind, lightning and thunder. If there are answers to be found, we may find them yet."
Bay's mention of the storm turned Silvas's attention to it again. He walked over to the large doorway that led from Bay's stall to the courtyard. The top half of the door was open, as it was in all but the worst winter weather. The rain was so heavy that it could not drain away as quickly as it fell. An inch of water covered the stone pavement of the courtyard, and the craters of new rain hitting the standing water overlapped each other. The water looked almost black, even when the sky was most illuminated by lightning.
