C. Dale Brittain_Wizard of Yurt 04

by The Witch;the Cathedral

  When the last bishop had taken his place, the doors opened again, and all the cathedral priests came in. I looked for and did not see Joachim. But the other members of the cathedral chapter filed slowly up the aisle to stand in a group beside the bishops.

  One bishop stepped forward: the bishop of the great City. I had seen him once when I was in school. The great mane of hair protruding below his mitre had been grey then and now was white, but his booming voice was unchanged.

  "Dearly beloved," he began, speaking into a profound hush, "we are gathered here to observe one of the most important ceremonies of the Church, the election of a new bishop."

  I rather doubted that I was his dearly beloved. Although Joachim had forestalled an incipient riot against me, after I was left there would still have been strong feeling against both the magical monster who had attacked the cathedral and the wizard who "must" have had something to do with its appearance. Perhaps Norbert had tried to cover up for his humiliation by lashing out against me, even if not against Joachim, once I was gone. The City's bishop would certainly not be impressed at hearing from one wizard that another wizard was planning some sort of attack on the Church.

  "In the Church, as you know," he continued, "we bishops are brothers, brother shepherds, guiding the Christian flock in the ways of God with each other's assistance and guidance. Because each bishop is elected by the priests of his own cathedral, that is the men who will serve under him, only the most holy and worthy men are sought for the position. We who are bishops know in our hearts how far we fall from the ideal, but the ideal is clear: piety, intelligence, judgment, dedication to the Lord's Word."

  I became tenser and tenser, waiting for what must be coming, but fast and irreverent magical probing still located no monsters.

  The bishop opened his Bible. "The office of bishop was laid down from the beginning, and the Apostle tells us the necessary qualifications: A bishop must be blameless, vigilant, sober, of good behavior, apt to teach, not greedy of filthy lucre, but patient, not a brawler, not covetous, one that ruleth well his own house. A bishop must be a vessel unto honor, sanctified, and meet for the Master's use, prepared unto every good work."

  He closed the Bible complacently, as though congratulating himself that he was prepared for every good work, and turned to the assembled cathedral priests. "You have heard the inspired Word regarding the sort of man whom God calls to the episcopal office, speaking through the will of the cathedral chapter. Are you ready now to elect such a man?"

  "We are ready." I noticed that the priest who was apparently now dean spoke for the chapter.

  "Then let your deliberations begin."

  The priests filed gravely out the side door of the church. They had been gone for ten minutes, and Paul had started to swing his legs and I was wondering if there would be a recess, when they all filed back in again. This time they had Joachim with them.

  I strained forward to see better. He was dressed in scarlet robes and was bareheaded. His eyes turned toward us, but he did not seem to see us.

  "We have made our choice," said the new dean.

  "And do you all agree in this choice?"

  "We are all agreed, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit." The priests spoke together, but I heard Norbert's voice loudest of all.

  "Then send your candidate forward!"

  The priests stepped aside, and Joachim walked slowly to the front. I would have been intimidated by those enormous black eyes in his completely sober face, but the bishop of the City met him placidly. "Joachim! You have heard the will of the cathedral chapter. Do you accede to this election?"

  "If God has called me," said Joachim in a low, grave voice, "in speaking through the chapter, then I must accept, although I know in my heart I am not worthy."

  I had to disagree with this. I thought he met every criteria the bishop had mentioned.

  "Brother bishops!" turning to the others. "Do you accept Joachim as your brother?"

  "We accept him with joy," said the bishops, all speaking together.

  "And you, the People of Yurt and Caelrhon," turning to the congregation, "do you acclaim him as your spiritual father?"

  There was a general affirmative murmur from the crowd.

  "Then kneel down, Joachim." Joachim knelt, and the bishop took a crystal ampoule of oil from the altar. He unstoppered it and poured two drops on the lowered head before him. He then took a tall gold and white hat, like his own, and fitted it on.

  "Rise then, anointed of the Lord, and fellow bishop!" Joachim stood up, and the two men kissed each other on both cheeks. "Take these symbols of your office." He put a shepherd's crosier into his right hand and slipped a ring onto his left. The enormous ruby gleamed in the candlelight, the ring I had last seen on the dead bishop's finger.

  "Then let us all sing Alleluia to God!"

  The congregation scrambled to its feet, the organ began to play, and a great song of praise rang out. Joachim stood still, not singing. I tried to catch his eye as he was only about twenty feet away. But I doubted he saw me. His eyes were again elsewhere. He was bishop now, burdened with the souls of two kingdoms, with responsibilities that went far beyond the worries of a wizard he had known when they both were young.

  When the hymn died away and the congregation sat down again, two acolytes brought forward a throne. It was heavy, and they dragged as much as carried it in front of the altar. When it was properly positioned, they stepped back and Joachim sat in it.

  "My people!" he said, addressing us all. "I come to you an unworthy man, but one who will do his best to guide your souls to God, with His aid. I would now like to ask those of you who govern our people's physical bodies to come forward, to dedicate yourselves and your purpose to the same divine purpose that guides us all."

  Another week and Paul could have taken part himself, but the queen was still regent. She rose, holding Yurt's silver ceremonial sword, then walked slowly forward to the altar, laid the sword on it, and knelt before the throne. She kissed the episcopal ring, and Joachim put his hand on her head and blessed her. Then he took her by the shoulders and drew her up.

  "Rise, my daughter, and govern well," he said, and handed her back the sword.

  She returned to her place, squeezing in between Paul and me, and then it was the turn for the king of Caelrhon. The ceremony was repeated with our duchess, then Caelrhon's dukes, then the counts of both kingdoms, followed by the castellans and the lords of manors. It occurred to me as the ceremony progressed that it would be very easy for an unscrupulous lord to use the opportunity to plunge his sword into the bishop's heart.

  But everything progressed with perfect correctness. When the last lord had returned to his place, and I was starting to wonder if we might still escape without a magical attack, Joachim rose and stepped forward.

  He was now only a few feet away and I was sure he saw me, though he gave no sign of recognition. Instead he raised his arms to bless the congregation.

  But I did not hear his words. I stared instead at the sleeve of his robe.

  It was a brand-new robe, clearly made just for him since he was taller than any of the other priests. Worked across the bottom of the scarlet sleeve were intertwined roses and crosses. They were done in a distinctive stitch, where the embroidery thread crossed three threads, skipped one, and crossed two more. That was Theodora's embroidery.

  Theodora was alive and free in the city.

  III

  We poured out of the cathedral into the noon sunshine. "A fine ceremony, a solemn ceremony," said the young chaplain of Yurt as though he had been personally responsible. "He's a fairly young man to be elected bishop; we may not see very many more episcopal elections in this city in our lifetimes."

  "Have you invited him to my coming of age ceremony?" Paul asked his mother.

  "He'd accepted when he was still dean," she said, "but he may not now be able to get away from his new duties."

  "Were you surprised he was chosen?"

  "He was
an excellent chaplain," said the queen with a smile. "You would not even have been born if he hadn't saved your father's life. I think he'll be an excellent bishop."

  I hardly listened to their conversation. I scanned the skies for some new monster and the crowd for Theodora, seeing neither.

  Several minutes passed, and nothing happened. Might the wizard be saving his next attack for Paul's coronation? The duchess and her tall husband, Prince Ascelin, came over to talk to us. "I haven't seen the royal family of Caelrhon in months," Ascelin said with an almost shame-faced grin and a glance in their direction. "I wonder if Prince Lucas is still not talking to me."

  "But what's the problem?" asked the queen, concerned.

  "We were here in Caelrhon this spring at the same time as he was. Lucas was talking about his wife—justifiably, I'm sure!—about all her beauty, skills, and accomplishments. Not to be outdone, of course, I started talking about the duchess," with an affectionate glance toward his wife. "I told him there was no one in the twin kingdoms, man or woman, who could compare to her in riding or hunting."

  I paused in scanning the sky to feel briefly sorry for Lucas. When he was already feeling royal power diminished, it must have been bitter to hear himself compared unfavorably to a duchess.

  "He seems to have taken it as an insult to the crown princess," Ascelin continued, a smile crinkling the tanned skin by his eyes. "He challenged me to a sword fight—a bad idea, since I would have disarmed him immediately. Fortunately his wizard stopped the fight before it even started: paralyzed him where he stood and took the sword from his hands. Lucas transferred all his fury from me to his Royal Wizard, and I was able to escape, calling apologies over my shoulder, while the prince was starting to tear into his wizard for lack of respect."

  I didn't wait to hear any more. "Excuse me," I said to the queen. "I'll see you at the castle a little later." To the young chaplain I added, "I hope Joachim outlives you." And I hurried away.

  Cutting around the cathedral's hill, I headed for the artisans' area to the east, the area where Theodora lived. I kept passing groups of townspeople, all in their Sunday finery, talking about the election. Normally I would have been interested in their reaction to their new bishop, but now I brushed past.

  At the foot of Theodora's street I paused. I could see her door and the upstairs window. It looked dark. A black and white shape darted in front of me: Theodora's cat. I bent down, made clicking noises, and held out one hand. The cat hesitated, then recognized me and came to rub against my hand. It, at least, was happy to see me.

  After a minute's petting, the cat turned and trotted purposefully up the street. At its door, it sat down and began to meow. I came up quietly behind it. The door opened. "All right, kitty, come on in."

  The cat walked in, tail high. I took hold of the door to keep it from closing and found myself looking at Theodora.

  Before I could think, I had clasped her in my arms and buried my face in her hair. Not until she pulled back a little, trying to wipe the tears from my cheek with one hand, did I realize I was crying.

  "Daimbert?"

  "Dear God, Theodora, for the last month I've thought you were dead." I seized her again as though my embrace would make her immortal.

  "But I'm not dead," she managed to say, with the light, almost teasing note I knew so well. After envisioning so many horrible things, including that I had only imagined her existence, the feel of her in my arms was even better than I remembered.

  "Or I thought you'd been captured by the wizard—or, or had even joined him."

  "What wizard?"

  We were standing just inside her half-open door. I released her enough to be able to see her face in the light from the street. "I have two very important questions for you. First, will you marry me?"

  "I told you before," she said with a half smile, "a girl needs time to consider."

  And a month had apparently not been long enough. I knew the answer with the certainty of a blow to the stomach.

  But I still managed to bring out my second question. "Last month there was a powerful wizard in the city, someone you could sense but I couldn't. Is he here now?"

  She turned her head away, slipping for a moment into her own magic. Then her amethyst eyes met mine. "No. If he's here, he's shielding his mind as effectively from mine as he is from yours."

  So perhaps I need not fear an immediate attack. Looking at Theodora it was almost impossible to imagine her working with an evil renegade. I dismissed him from my thoughts. "If you don't want to marry me, would you consider living with me, even for a little while?"

  She smiled. "I suspect this conversation may take a while. If we talk here, we may be interrupted. How about if we go to the grove outside of town?"

  I was naturally intrigued by this suggestion, even though I realized she had not answered my question. I rubbed my eyes with my fists, and Theodora got her key to close the door behind us. As she stepped into the street, I noticed for the first time that she wore a black and gold dress with a bright red apron and shawl.

  "You were at the new bishop's enthronement," I said with sudden comprehension, "sitting with the Romneys."

  She gave me a sideways smile. "I saw you with your royal court, but I was fairly sure you didn't recognize me. I was wearing a head-scarf, too. I thought the pew with the Romneys an appropriate place for a witch. Was that extremely good-looking young man your Prince Paul?"

  I nodded and reminded myself not to be jealous. Whatever reason she had for not wanting to marry me had nothing to do with Paul.

  She tucked her arm through mine as we walked, one more couple out for a stroll on a fine afternoon after the episcopal election. Her earrings moved in and out from behind her hair in the charming way I remembered. "Isn't the new bishop your friend the dean?"

  "That's right."

  "He looks very intense," she said, "as though he doesn't worry about the things that worry ordinary people, but always tries to look through to spiritual issues." I nodded again; it seemed a good assessment. "But tell me—does he ever smile?"

  "He's been known to," I said, smiling myself. "But not often. He'll be an excellent bishop, but I'm afraid some of the young priests will find him hard on them."

  "You've been away for weeks," she said. "Where have you been?"

  It occurred to me only then that she might have been as worried about me as I was about her. "And where do you think I'd been?" I said teasingly, using her trick of answering a question with another question.

  "I knew you defeated the monster that appeared right after the old bishop's funeral," she said. "Everybody in the city was talking about it." Maybe I wasn't being blamed for as much as I'd thought. "But the rumor was that something was still wrong, or the monster wasn't fully defeated, and you had to go thousands of miles to find out where it had come from."

  "Close enough," I said. "I've been up at the border of the northern land of wild magic." The borderlands seemed much less interesting at the moment than the shape of her mouth, the way she held her head, and the color of her eyes. "The fanged gorgos, the monster, came from there, and I had to take it back to destroy it."

  Somehow she had me talking easily again, as I had always talked with her. While we walked through the city, out the gates, and past all the crowds and the tents and the Romney caravans toward the little grove a mile away, I gave her a quick overview of our adventures. The grass that had been long and green when we last walked here together had been browned by the summer's sun and trampled by many feet.

  She was, as I had expected, fascinated by my account of the valley where everyone lived in houses built into the cliff. She was also very interested in the nixie's barrier that specifically would not let humans pass. It was good to talk about magic with someone who understood it, and who I did not feel was in competition with me.

  "So what would you have done," she asked with a laugh, "if your prince hadn't been able to attract those horses? Would you have given in to the nixie's charms at last?"


  I didn't reply—in part because I did not know the answer. We had reached the edge of the woods, and I prepared to fly both of us up and over the blackberry tangles.

  But she forestalled me. "I've been practicing while you've been gone. Watch!"

  Slowly and deliberately, her lips moving silently, she rose into the air on her own magic, went over the tops of the brambles, and disappeared from view, a delighted grin on her face. From the thump and the sudden laugh on the far side I knew she'd come down faster than she intended.

  I followed her, landing more gracefully, and we walked together to the center of the grove where the spring still played and the emerald grass grew long. The air was still permeated with unfocused magic, but not nearly as strongly as I had remembered.

  "Let's sit down," she said in a different voice than she normally used. "I want to tell you something." She sounded as sober as Joachim.

  I had been about to take her in my arms but hesitated. We sat down next to each other, not touching. "What is it?"

  "I am going to bear a child."

  There was a long pause. I put a hand over my eyes and called myself all the insulting names young wizards use for each other; the list was fairly long. A second-year wizardry student would have known better. But when I took my hand down I still had to ask, "And—it's mine?"

  "Yes," said Theodora, less soberly, "yours— She'll be yours and mine."

  "It will be a girl? You're sure?"

  A small smile had again reached the edges of her lips. "Of course I'm sure. After all, I'm a witch."

  This certainly ended the vague plans I realized I had been making about somehow having both her and my position in Yurt. Whatever institutionalized wizardry tolerated in its wizards, it was not being the fathers of families. "Theodora, you know I want to marry you. I'll be happy to live wherever you like."

  The smile was gone again, and she took my hand. "But I never intended to marry you."