For Love of Evil

by Piers Anthony

  Parry smiled. "Surely you could, Brother, if you saw the need." He was fortunate that his associate could so readily be managed. That was a common trait of those whose views of right and wrong were narrow.

  But it turned out that Lord Bofort was not so readily arrested. He resided in a castle that was defended by a host of a score or more of knights. It would take an army with siege equipment to fetch him out—and by the time that could be arranged, his potent political connections would have gotten him off.

  Parry realized that his promise to Fabiola would be worthless unless he got Lord Bofort out of the way. The moment the friars departed, those knights would swoop down and wreak vengeance on the girl and her family. The magistrate would bend to the most proximate power, and not interfere. Parry had kept the girl in the vicinity, knowing that it would not be safe to release her until the matter was resolved. She was looking better, having been fed and cleaned, and her confidence in the cross he had given her almost made her glow. That glow would quickly fade if Bofort got hold of her!

  However, he had come prepared for this kind of encounter, thanks to Jolie's suspicion about this assignment. "I shall simply have to go and fetch him out," he told the magistrate, "and deliver him to you for trial."

  Father Service coughed. He was firm in his faith, but not a fool.

  The magistrate shook his head. "Begging your pardon, Father, but you can't do that. He has little respect for friars. He would have you beaten, or worse."

  Parry affected surprise. "But I am a man of God."

  "Father, we are far from the center of things. The power of God sometimes has trouble making itself felt here," the magistrate said.

  "The power of God is without limit," Parry said righteously.

  "All the same, Father—"

  "Perhaps we should merely report this to—" Father Service began.

  "No, this is a thing that must be done," Parry said firmly. "But I agree, Brother, it should be reported. Suppose you return to make the report to our Order, while I go to bring the man to justice?"

  "You must not go alone!" Father Service said, agitated.

  "I will not go alone," Parry said. "I will go in the company of God, than which there is none better."

  "Yes, of course! But even so—"

  "Then it is settled. I will see Lord Bofort to justice here, while you relay word to our Order, who will advise the Pope, who I am sure will be pleased. It is not every day the Church is able to act so specifically in the cause of justice."

  "Not every day," Father Service agreed hollowly.

  "Really, Father—" the magistrate started.

  "No more of this," Parry said briskly. "My course is clear. Merely show me the way to Lord Bofort's demesnes, and I shall pursue the matter as God directs me."

  "I can show you, Father!" Fabiola said. "I live near there." Which might have been the main reason she was selected as a key witness. Why travel far to induct a peasant girl when one was close by?

  "Excellent, child; you shall be my guide." Father Service exchanged a look with the magistrate. Both evidently thought Parry had lost his wits, but neither was in a position to make an issue of it. They thought he was going naked into the lion's den.

  However, he reminded himself, there had been one who had gone into the lion's den before, and had tamed the lions.

  In due course they set off, the girl leading the way, the man riding the donkey. There had been one who rode a donkey into town, too, he remembered.

  And, gazing at Fabiola's thin back, he was reminded again of Jolie, as she had been during their first interview.

  That thought evoked Jolie. "Now don't go getting notions!" she chided him.

  "None, my love," he murmured.

  Fabiola turned. "What, Father?"

  "It is all right, child. I was merely talking to myself."

  But the girl continued to gaze in his direction. "Who is that great lady, Father?"

  "You see her?" Parry asked, startled.

  "Of course she sees me!" Jolie said. "You gave her the cross."

  "So I did," he agreed, doubting that that could be the reason. Father Service had a similar cross and had not seen Jolie. Then, to Fabiola: "The lady is my wife, when she was your age. She has been dead more than twenty years, but she guards me yet."

  "Oh." Fabiola faced forward again and resumed walking.

  "What do you have in mind, love?" Jolie inquired. "You know that evil man is not going to come out just because you ask him to."

  "I know. But if he is, as we strongly suspect, the sorcerer who spotted us, and led to your death and my father's, he cannot withstand exposure. That may be my major weapon against him."

  Fabiola turned again. "Lord Bofort is a sorcerer, Father?"

  He had forgotten, carelessly, that the girl could overhear him when he spoke to Jolie. Yet was there harm in it? Fabiola was dependent on him for her security and that of her family; she would support him absolutely.

  "Yes, child, I believe so. So am I—but my magic is white, in support of God, while his is black, supported by the forces of evil." Parry had made a considerable study of evil; on occasion other friars had even teased him for his supposed love of evil because of his finesse in ferreting it out, as in this present case. He had learned well that evil was not always where one expected it, or of the nature one anticipated.

  "I would like to see the man who was responsible for denying me my life with you brought to justice," Jolie said. "But still, I don't see why mere exposure should hurt him."

  "Because he once worked in support of the crusade," Parry explained. "That was actually a work of evil, but was believed to be good. He would therefore have seemed to be aligning himself with good, and surely he would not thereafter declare himself to be the opposite. His present situation is evidence that he professes to be a good man. If his servants or knights knew that he was not, and that the whole countryside was about to know that truth, they would not support him. So exposure could cost him greatly at the outset; his own men would turn against him."

  "I would love to see that!" Fabiola exclaimed.

  Surely she would, for she had been tortured and raped by Bofort's men.

  "Do you know, Parry, we might be able to use her," Jolie said.

  "Use her?" he repeated, startled.

  "Use me?" Fabiola asked. She evidently understood that he was answering questions she could not hear.

  "I believe I might be able to speak to her, if I floated through her head," Jolie said. "Then I could tell her what to say. It might make a difference."

  "I don't know..."

  But Jolie was already floating toward the girl. Her form fuzzed as it overlapped the head, then shrank into it.

  Fabiola abruptly straightened up. Then she turned to look back at him. "Hello, my love," she said with Jolie's voice.

  Parry almost fell off the donkey. "Get out of there!" he sputtered. "That's too much like possession!"

  "No, it's fun," Fabiola said in her own voice. "I can hear her now, and feel how she wants me to speak. I think I would know a demon. Jolie is good!"

  "But the implications—"

  The girl stood, evidently listening. Then she said: "I suppose that's true." She was talking to the ghost within her. "But it seems like trying to vamp a holy man."

  "Get out of there!" Parry repeated.

  The girl glanced at him, forming a marginal smile. "Can you make me, Parry?" she asked in Jolie's voice. Now her features seemed to resemble Jolie's, too.

  He jumped off the donkey and strode to her. He took her by the shoulders. "By the greatness of God, depart this vessel!"

  Jolie reappeared in the air above the girl's head. "You exorcised me!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I'm no demon!"

  Fabiola began to cry. "I didn't mean any harm! It was only a game, she said!"

  Parry turned her loose. "Some games we do not play," he said shortly, and returned to the donkey.

  "Don't be so stuffy!" Jolie said. "I was only showing you what coul
d be done. I can help you directly, if I work through her. I'm not going to corrupt her, and it might make a difference if Bofort proves harder to deal with than you think. Anyway, what do you suppose you are going to do with her, after she brings you to the castle? Turn her loose so the knights can run her down?"

  Parry had to concede there was a merit in her position. "You're sure she isn't being imposed on? I gave her my word to protect her from that."

  "No, it's fun," Fabiola said. "I feel like a woman when she's with me."

  That was part of the problem. Parry had lived for twenty years without any women in his personal life, wanting none after Jolie. The sudden manifestation of Jolie's personality in a girl close to her age when she lived had jolted him, arousing reactions he had thought long forgotten. Fabiola resembled Jolie in no other respect; she was neither pretty nor bright. If such a manifestation could provoke such a reaction in him, what would a closer match have done? He was a man of God now!

  Jolie floated over to him. "You started to see her as a woman?" she asked softly.

  Parry nodded grimly.

  "I'm sorry. I hadn't thought it through. It was almost like being alive again. I won't tease you anymore."

  "Thank you." He did not look at her.

  "But I really do think she could help us—and it isn't safe to let her go, yet. That Bofort is a bad enemy."

  "Agreed."

  "Then is it all right to—?"

  "Do what you believe is best, Jolie," he said, yielding reluctantly.

  She drifted off. In a moment Fabiola straightened again. "Oh, I wish I were like you!"

  Surely so. Parry reflected. He was not at all sure how he felt about this development.

  "Now I can remain with Fabiola, or I can explore the castle, when we get there," Jolie said through the girl's mouth. "What do you wish?"

  "I'm not sure," Parry said. "I won't be able to speak to you there, lest I give away your nature, so you'll have to use your judgment. Probably you should circulate, to see what is around us, that I may not be able to see, and report to me, but at other times remain with her."

  "I will do that."

  "Fabiola," he said. "Are you sure you wish to enter the castle? They will not like you there."

  "I have the cross you gave me, Father," she said promptly.

  "I cannot be banned."

  "That is true—so long as your faith is firm. But if you begin to doubt, that protection will falter. Jesus cannot help those whose faith is not pure. They will try to make you doubt."

  She gripped the cross, holding it high. "They cannot make me doubt."

  Parry hoped that was the case. He knew they could not make him doubt, but her faith was of recent vintage. Still, with Jolie to guide her, she had a chance.

  They arrived at the castle. It was not any giant of its type, but it was imposing enough, a motte and bailey with forbidding stone walls. Like any castle, it was highly defensible; twenty men could hold off an army here. They were evidently expected, for the drawbridge was down and the gate guards snapped to attention as they approached. "Our master bids you welcome, Father Grief," a guard said. "We shall take care of the donkey and the wench."

  Parry stiffened momentarily; even after the score of years, that term wench bothered him. But he forced himself to relax. "Thank you; the donkey you may care for, but the young woman will remain with me."

  The guard paused, assessing the situation. It was not unknown for friars to abridge their vows of chastity when opportunity offered. Parry had investigated more than one such case, and taken the appropriate disciplinary action; it was galling to have such suspicion adhere to him now. But perhaps that was better than the alternatives; at least it gave a pretext to keep the girl close. They were ushered into the main castle. As they walked down the long entry passage, Jolie floated away, then returned. "They are drawing up the bridge," she announced.

  Parry nodded, as if to himself. He had expected as much. The lion did not wish his prey to escape without a reckoning.

  They came to the main court, which was elegantly furnished. Illustrated tapestries hung on the walls, and the floor was polished wood. Lord Bofort had excellent taste—and the ill-gotten wealth to indulge it.

  "There are bowmen watching from concealed recesses," Jolie said. "Crossbows."

  Parry reached into an inner pocket and took his large silver cross. He doubted that anyone would fire at him yet, but there was no sense in taking unnecessary chances. Fabiola felt the same way; she clutched her small cross tightly.

  Lord Bofort awaited them at a great oaken table. He was a stout man of perhaps fifty, very well dressed with embroidered robes. "Welcome, Father Grief," he said expansively. "To what do we owe the honor of this visit by a man of the cloth?"

  "Bofort," Parry said without preamble, "there is a warrant for your arrest for abuse of your power. I have come to take you to the magistrate."

  "Friar, you are overstepping your bounds," Bofort said curtly. "You have no business meddling in my affairs."

  "I shall be satisfied to let the magistrate decide that," Parry said. "I ask you to leave this castle and come with me now to the town, so that this matter may be settled."

  "Because of the reckless charge of a foolish young girl? Surely you know better than that, friar."

  "You were satisfied with her testimony when you meant to use it against your neighbor," Parry reminded him. "Now we have ascertained that testimony was perjured, the result of the torture and threats you made against her. She is a more credible witness against you than she was against your neighbor."

  "I think she will not be a witness at all," Bofort said grimly. He made a gesture, and two guards stepped forward.

  Fabiola straightened, and Parry recognized Jolie's aspect. She lifted the small silver cross. "Creatures of hell, touch me not, lest you be chastened," she said.

  The guards hesitated.

  "Do not be daunted by a superstition!" Bofort snapped. "Take her!"

  The guards resumed their motion. Fabiola fixed her gaze on the face of the nearest and swung the cross, shoving it against his forearm.

  The man screamed and fell back, holding his arm.

  Parry knew that Jolie had drawn on an item of magic they had learned since her death: the mesmeric burn. The guard had not really been hurt, but he had felt the pain where the cross touched—because of the guilt on his conscience. He had known it was wrong to interfere with a witness protected by a friar. Superstition had indeed daunted him.

  "So it is of this manner," Bofort muttered. He made another gesture.

  "Deflect!" Parry cried, warning Jolie.

  Two crossbow shafts came down from the bowmen in the alcoves. The arrows swerved slightly and thudded into the wall on either side of the girl. Jolie had invoked the spell of deflection, causing the barbs to miss. Conjuration or levitation was difficult magic, but deflection was its simplest aspect, and they had more than a decade to study it.

  "If your guilt were in doubt," Parry said, "that doubt has been resolved by your action. Come with me." He strode around the table toward Bofort.

  "Clear the court!" Bofort cried. "I will talk with this man alone." The guards and attendants hurried out, as did the bowmen.

  In a moment Parry and Fabiola were alone with Bofort. "Who are you?" Bofort demanded. "I know sorcery when I see it!"

  "I am sure you do," Parry agreed. "You have practiced it for decades."

  "On behalf of the Church!"

  "On behalf of Lucifer."

  "How dare you charge me with that? I gave invaluable magical aid to the crusade!"

  "You systematically eliminated your competition—in the guise of that support. That was the work of Lucifer."

  "Who are you?" Bofort repeated. "I know of all competent sorcerers, and there are none among the monks!"

  "I am the one that got away. You killed my father and my wife. Now I bring the power of that God you wronged, to see that justice is done."

  Bofort reflected. "There was one tha
t escaped! A novice, a stripling, who murdered a crusader and slipped the noose. I had all but forgotten."

  "I had not forgotten," Parry said grimly. "Now you will come with me voluntarily to the magistrate, or I shall reveal your nature to the personnel of this establishment. That will demolish your reputation as well as your estate."

  "You seek to make a deal, friar?" Bofort sneered.

  "My calling requires mercy for the sinner, no matter how grievous his sins may be. Confess your sins, and accept your punishment, and I shall not add to it. Come with me now, and some part of your estate may survive."

  "I cannot come with you," Bofort said. "You know whom I serve."

  "I serve a greater one."

  "No, you merely serve a different one."

  "Must we try our strength? My Lord supports me; does yours support you?"

  Bofort thought about that a moment. It was known that Lucifer quickly lost patience with those who were clumsy in the pursuit or practice of evil. "Perhaps we can after all deal. I will give you information that is worth far more than I am, if you will depart in peace."

  "I seek no deal, merely justice. Come with me; perhaps you can make a deal with the magistrate."

  "The magistrate? He goes with the politics of the moment! You have incited the town against me; there will be no justice there."

  "It's true, Parry," Jolie said through Fabiola's mouth. "The townsmen are massing now to march on this castle. It seems that quite a number of them have suffered at the hands of this man, and now they see their chance to bring him down."

  "So you are finished, sorcerer," Parry said. "Come with me."

  "I tell you, you would be better off to make the deal," Bofort said. "I can tell you of the greatest scourge ever to strike this fair land, now in the making. You may be intimately involved; what irony! You can save yourself and all you hold dear, if you know its nature."

  "I make no deals with your kind," Parry said. "Now come; I will protect you from the malice of the throng."

  "Well, if I must," Bofort said, and turned as if to walk.

  Then a bolt of energy lanced at Parry. It bathed him in fire, then died. He was untouched.

  "So you are braced against physical assault," Bofort said. "But perhaps not against this." He made a sign.