by Garon Whited
“All right, I got nothing,” I admitted. “This is going to be one of those moment of inspiration things, not a logical, step-by-step solution.”
“I’m afraid you’re right.”
“Okay.” I hopped up off the altar.
“Hey, before you go?”
“Yes?”
“Got a crystal on you? Or should I send for one?”
“Right, almost forgot,” I said, discovering it is possible but difficult to snap your fingers in hyper-polymer gauntlets. “I always carry a power crystal. Will that do? I’d rather not blow up the enchantment on anything else.”
“No problem. Put it on the altar, please. And can I trouble you to bleed on it a little?”
“Always happy to bleed for my religion.”
“I’m not sure how you mean that.”
I unlatched my helmet and set it aside so I could take off the power crystal around my neck. I set the crystal on the altar, took off a gauntlet, and drew Firebrand.
“Neither am I.”
With my business in the Temple concluded, I walked with Bronze through the sanctuary doors. My trio of knights fell in step with us, making sure the way was clear and no one followed too closely. They needn’t have bothered. The people in the halls pressed back against the walls of their own volition and went to one knee—knights, squires, priests, padawans, whatever.
Standing in the middle of the corridor, waiting like the soul of patience, was Beltar, dressed in the full ceremonial armor—meaning he had a tabard and whatnot on, along with the usual armor. We don’t do decorative around this temple. We do functional like a morose Louis Sullivan, though. Beltar went to one knee.
“My lord.”
“Beltar! Good to see you.” I tugged him to his feet. “Walk with me. How are things?”
“Well, my lord. I have tried not to disturb you with questions, consulting directly, instead. However, I feel I must bother you now.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I have prayed at the altar, but I am not certain of the answer.”
Hey! I shouted, mentally.
What? answered my altar-ego.
Have you been giving Beltar a hard time?
The scoundrel. He wants a second opinion, doesn’t he?
Hang on.
I turned us around, went right back into the sanctuary, and had them close the doors. More charcoal, more blood and smoke…
Beltar went to one knee, there beside me, as, for him, the Face of God appeared above the brazier. I nudged him.
“Stop that. I’m here. Get up. Now, what’s the deal with the second opinion?”
“Beltar shouldn’t have bothered you,” quoth the face of smoke.
“I apologize, my lord.”
“Fine, fine,” I waved them both to silence. “What’s the deal? Beltar? You do the talking.” I pointed at the face. “You wait until he finishes.”
“My heart is troubled by the policy regarding children.”
“Go on.”
“As you know, we, on our own, as mortal men, bend all our arts and skills to the healing of any child brought to us. We are, I may say without arrogance or pride, famed for it. Yet, our god is also one who aids those yet living who long to die.”
“And?”
“We have encountered some cases of severe injury or sickness where the child cannot be cured by any of our arts, and which are so severe as to make life a thing unwanted.”
“Give me an example.”
“Shall I send for the latest?”
“Absolutely not,” I told him, cringing inwardly. “Just tell me.”
“There is a boy of three years whose body grows in strange directions, twisting his limbs, warping his flesh. When he was brought to us but a few days ago, he was dying. Even now, he must be treated and re-shaped, almost daily, it seems, lest he be unable to breathe. Without our intervention, his flesh would twist itself in ways incompatible with life. It is not a painless thing and he suffers constantly.”
“What do you want to do?” I asked.
“Cure him, my lord.”
I turned to the face of smoke.
“All right, I’ve heard Beltar’s side of things. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Look, I get what Beltar wants. I agree with him.”
“You do?” Beltar interrupted, then shut himself up. “My apologies.”
“It’s okay, Beltar,” we both said, and glanced at each other. Beltar seemed relieved.
“Go on,” I encouraged my otherself.
“The condition is genetic. I don’t know what it’s called and I don’t care. The kid is a mess and can’t be fixed by simple surgery. He’s growing flesh and bone in weird ways and, yes, it’ll kill him if they don’t keep fixing him. Even so, everything they can do will only keep him alive and in misery.”
“It sounds to me as though he needs a miracle.”
“Yes. He does. Thing is, I’ve already worked a miracle this year.”
Our eyes met, Bronze and I. She was sad. Well, so was I.
What to do? Kill the kid? It wasn’t as bad an option as it sounded. Around here, we know souls go to an afterlife and, presumably, to the recycling center. If his body is a lemon, he should get something better the next time around.
But that goes against the grain. Even though I know the kid will be better off starting over, killing a child is still something I despise.
“Would it help,” I asked, slowly, “if he were to sleep on the altar while the congregation prayed for his health?”
“Yes… some. The problem is this place only seats so many. All the temples together only seat so many. You and I share a direct conduit. When you throw energy at me, or vice versa, it’s like current down a wire. When everyone else does it, it’s like induction—a magnetic field crossing a distant wire to generate current. They’re not big magnets, by the way, and even in this focusing structure, they’re still not close to the wire.”
“Tricky,” I mused.
“You’ve got an idea?”
“I might.”
“Is it radical, dangerous, and power-intensive?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I always enjoy watching your version of miracles.”
“Beltar,” I asked, “are this kid’s parents around?”
“They reside here in the Temple,” he informed me. “Until their son… Until his disposition is settled, they are our guests.”
“Perfect. Show me.”
Beltar, Bronze, and I walked quickly through the underground halls of the Temple. It was surprising to me how much space the place took up. I don’t spend much time in it, much less wander around in it.
Tolina and Meran, the boy’s mother and father, were shocked to see me. Both went down as though shot, faces on the floor. The toddler, Herron, was asleep on a cot, thanks to a spell. He was misshapen, yes, even deformed, but not horrifically so. Everything was in roughly the right place, but squashed, bent. The sculpture was done by an art student with no eye for proportions.
And this was after being treated. I resolved not to ask what the more advanced stages of the condition were like.
I spoke with Tolina and Meran. Meran’s grandfather was a merchant in H’zhad’Eyn and chose to resettle in Mochara. Meran bought Tolina in Trader’s Bay as a slave and eventually made her his wife, but she also came from H’zhad’Eyn.
I’m beginning to think it’s not healthy to live so close to the track of a magical ball of fusion. Call me overcautious if you like.
My flesh-folding spell took a sample from the child. I also took one from each parent. They didn’t argue or question. When an avatar descends from on high to consider working a miracle on your behalf, you do what he says.
I dislike using that authority, that reputation, but sometimes it gets the job done with a minimum of fuss and bother. I feel much the same way about being the Demon King.
With my genetic samples collected, I returned to my m
onastic cell and used the shift-booth.
“Diogenes?”
“Yes, Professor?”
“Can we fix genetic issues without dunking someone in a growth tank?”
“Yes, Professor, although the process is much accelerated when performed in an optimum environment. As with the refugees, viral gene therapy can replace damaged or undesirable sections of genetic code with optimized versions. Such a treatment may be administered as an injection. However, each such virus must be tailored to a specific genetic imprint. They can be lethal if used on persons other than the intended recipient.”
“I recall you mentioning something about it when you processed the refugees. That’s why I ask. I have three gene samples here. Two parents and a kid. Analyze the kid for genetic anomalies and get me a virus to fix them. If it’s too extensive, use the parents chromosomes to make a new boy body, about three years old.”
A drone whirred up, accepted the samples, and whirred away.
“Shall I also examine the parents’ genetic structure and prepare doses for them, as a prophylactic measure against similar genetic abnormalities?”
“You mean, fix them so they don’t have more deformed kids?”
“That is materially what I said, Professor.”
“Yes. You’re one smart computer, Diogenes.”
“I am a quantum-linked network of computers, but I accept your compliment, Professor. You are not overly stupid for a protein-based computer, yourself.”
“Thank you. Let me know when you have everything sorted.”
“I will.”
I shifted back to Karvalen.
“My lord?” Beltar asked, as I stepped into the monastic little cubby.
“I had to take a quick trip. The process of fixing the problem is begun. Do whatever you need to do to preserve the kid and his parents. I have an ersatz miracle on the way.”
“I do not understand.”
“Well, he returned Bronze from the realm of the gods. It was a mighty effort, as you may imagine, and against incredible resistance. He needs to rest a bit from his labors. Since he’s resting, it falls to me to perform miracles for him. This one is in my scope.”
“Shall I so inform Meran and Tolina?”
“That a miracle is on the way? Go ahead. I’ll be back when it’s ready.”
Beltar did a quick one-knee thing and I caught his shoulders, made him stand.
“It’s fine for you to do that in public,” I insisted, “or when anyone might see. It’s fine in the presence of the Lord of Shadow’s spiritual presence. But when you do that to me, in the flesh, alone, it annoys the unholy hell out of me. Please stop.”
Beltar smiled—no, he grinned. He grabbed me in a hug, an awkward thing in armor. He stepped back, still smiling.
“What was that for?” I asked, uncomfortably.
“For not knowing what it was for,” he replied. He saluted and left, passing a puzzled Bronze.
“Don’t look at me,” I told her. “I have no idea.”
My bodyguard detail was waiting with Bronze, along with a teenaged knight-trainee. I could tell by the outfit—light grey pants, grey tunic, white sash without tassels. At his hip was a familiar-looking sword and he wore a rather battered shield strapped to his back. He was about my height and more heavily built. His respectful expression overlaid a smile. The thing I liked most, though, were the inkstains on his fingers.
It was Heydyl, of course. As we set off for the under-corridors to the mountain, I gestured him over and he fell into step beside me.
“Something on your mind?” I asked.
“No, my lord.”
“Just out for a subterranean walk with the King?”
“I had more in mind a pleasant walk with my father, if that is not too…”
“Too presumptuous?”
“Is it?” he asked, anxiously.
“I don’t think so, no. This is a social setting, not a formal one.”
“Meaning I’m your bastard, not officially your son?” he asked. I eyed him sideways for several paces.
“Tough question from someone who wanted a pleasant walk.”
“I apologize, my lord.”
“Stop that. Either you’re having a nice walk with your father or you’re escorting your King. Take your pick.”
“I could also take a walk with a god,” he pointed out.
“Please don’t.”
“As you command—Dad.”
“Better. I think. I’m starting to worry you inherited my sense of humor.”
“Would it be such a bad thing?”
“There are worse things,” I admitted. “I’m not sure what they are, but I’m sure they exist.”
“I suppose so. Speaking of.”
“So, there is something on your mind?”
“A question sometimes presents itself to me, late at night.”
“Go for it.”
“Did you ever want to be my father?”
Kids ask the darnedest questions, and the most difficult.
“Do you want the short answer or the long one?”
“It’s a long walk.”
“Okay. The first I knew of you was when you asked if I was your father. I didn’t know, remember?”
“I will always remember.”
“You wanted to know if I was your father, and it turns out I am. Whether or not I want to be, I am. But you aren’t asking if I wanted to have a son. You’re asking if I ever wanted to raise you as a father should, to claim you as my son. Am I right?”
“That’s… hmm.” He frowned for a moment, considering the differences. “I guess my question wasn’t right. Did you ever want me for a son?”
“I think you’re getting closer to what you really want to know. Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, you are my son, and I am proud of you.”
Heydyl said nothing for several paces, the only sound being booted feet echoing in the tunnel. I realized, with a start, Bronze was walking silently so as not to disrupt our conversation.
Several tons of mobile statue and she has a stealth mode. Eerie. Creepy, even. I mean, I knew she could do it, but it’s still startling to experience.
“I don’t know…” he said, finally. “You haven’t… been…”
“Here?”
“I suppose. Although you have. In a way. Just not in a… just not as my father.”
“How have I been here?”
“Everything around us. The church, the city, the Order—everything. It’s all you. Sometimes I even hear you when I’m at prayer.”
Our wordless communication was fleeting, but my altar ego confirmed it.
“It’s not the same as being here, is it?” I sympathized, mentally directing a psychic kicking toward the energy plane.
“No. Why aren’t you here? You say you’re proud of me, but you don’t…”
“I don’t show it?” I guessed. He nodded. “There are several bad reasons for that.”
“Bad reasons?”
“If the reason isn’t good enough, it’s a bad reason.”
“That follows,” he agreed.
“Since there are no reasons good enough, all I have are bad reasons.”
“Oh.”
“First, I’m a lousy father. I don’t know the first thing about being a parent. I’m completely unqualified for the job. Moreover, I’m terrified of the very idea. I’ll screw it up, and that means I’ll screw up the kid I’m trying to parent. You frighten me, Heydyl. You’re a good boy who, under my loathsome guidance, could grow up to be an utterly awful man.”
“I disagree.”
“You’re allowed. That’s my first and second reason. My lack of qualifications and my cowardice. My third reason, also inadequate, is people want to kill me. Some merely want to grab me and drain blood out of me. And, if they knew I gave a damn about you, they wouldn’t hesitate to grab you and use you as a tool to get to me.”
“So, by distancing yourself from me, you kept them from finding out ab
out me?”
“I don’t know about finding out, but I hope they don’t regard you as someone valuable to me. You are, but as long as they don’t know it, you’re safer.”
“It seems to me you would do better to be close at hand, to protect the ones you love.”
I concentrated for a moment. The faint whisper of a reply from my altar ego was directed at both Heydyl and myself.
I am always with you.
“Oh,” Heydyl said, softly.
“Yes. I can’t justify not being more fatherly. I know, I know—I recall your note about how knowing was enough for you. I also know you needed someone when your mother died. I could say I was busy with a kingdom, but it still wasn’t fair to you. I compromised. I know it. I’m sorry.”
“No, you did what you needed to do,” he argued, frowning. “I know what I think a father should do, but maybe there are things I don’t know or understand. You provided for me,” he added, struggling to find words. “You gave me things I needed. A place, a position… people who were… were good examples. Models. People I could look up to.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. I’m not sure I could be so understanding in your place.”
“It’s my duty to be a better man than you are.”
“Ouch,” I observed. I heard some in-helmet snickering from our escorts. I heard some in-head snickering from Firebrand, too. Bronze was the only one who acknowledged Heydyl’s statement as a serious one.
“You set it up that way,” he reminded me.
“So I did, and thank you for carrying on with it.”
“I know my duty,” he replied, “Father.”
“I’m not sure you should call me that.”
“Why? Are you not my father?”
“Technically? Yes. But I’ve never been much of a father to you. I’m good at many things, but everything else is horrible. Being a family sort of person is one of the horrible things.”
“Tianna does not think so. Tymara does not, either.”
“Oh? How would you know?”
“I spend as much of my time as I can spare in the Temple of Flame.”
“You do? What for? I thought there was some religious tension involved between the Temples.”
“There is, but they are all the family I have, my niece and my grand-niece. I have also met my sister, once.”