Prosper settled back into the cushions of the soft bed. The silence that was upon him now seemed too precious to break by attending the service and listening to words. He could not help thinking, though, of the boys whose voices he had heard amidst the crowd. "Huard," he said, "you told me once that I had a gift for teaching."
"You are the best teacher I have ever had the honor to meet," Huard replied quietly. "I know that my judgment on this is shared by others. If you don't trust me, ask one of your priest-pupils when you return to your training school."
"I will not be returning to the training school." Prosper's voice seemed to echo through the stillness of the chamber. He felt oddly calm as he raised his gaze to be level with Huard's. "I can never be a priest again. I see that now."
o—o—o
The morning sun rippled sparks of light upon the river passing Huard's doorway. Huard leaned forward and splashed the coolness of the water upon his face, drying away the sweat of the morning. A breeze teased at his hair, cooling the water further.
An arm touched his as Prosper bent forward and joined him, splashing water into his eyes to take away the dryness of the night. Huard smiled at him, saying, "I was beginning to wonder whether you would sleep through the noonday service."
"The rest did me good." Prosper leaned back, staring up at the branches against the sky, wondering why he had never noticed the beauty of their interlacing curves, like a fine scribe's hand in a manuscript. "Was that voice of Orel's father that woke me?"
Huard nodded. "Orel told him last night that you had been training him. Botolf was much bewildered – he said that what Orel told him made no sense, for during the past three months the boy's swordsmanship had improved fourfold. Botolf was sure that the godliness Orel had received from learning his catechism was the cause. Botolf was even more bewildered when I explained to him that your training was the cause of his son's increased discipline." The plump priest sat back on his haunches, looking for all the world like a tamed wolf sitting contentedly beside a hearthfire. "Botolf tells me that he wishes Orel's brothers to attend your school for temporal boys when it is opened next spring."
Prosper was still a moment, feeling the cool breeze tickle his face. Then he suddenly ducked his head and plunged it into the water.
He surfaced shaking his hair as a wolf-dog shakes his fur after a bath, sending water splattering onto Huard. The priest laughed. "You look like a boy."
"I feel like a boy. Like a thirteen-year-old boy. Do you understand why?" Smiling, Prosper turned his head toward the priest.
"Indeed," Huard replied. "A new beginning." The priest lifted his head, scenting the air, then said, "Botolf left us a gift-offering for our trouble. Shall we indulge our stomachs in a most unpriestly fashion?"
Laughing, Prosper helped Huard to rise from the sun-bright grass. They passed back into the coolness of the hut. There, on the table, were two bags, neatly labelled in Orel's careful scribe-hand, "To Huard, with love," and "To Prosper, with love." Huard opened the bag, inspected it, and sighed before pouring its contents into Prosper's bag. Prosper caught a glimpse of the sweets within.
"Some disciplines," said the priest mournfully, "require greater sacrifice than others." He turned aside, poured wine into two cups, then turned back to Prosper, who was still staring down at the lettering on the bag, touching the word "love."
"Did you hear what I said?" Huard asked.
Without looking up, Prosper replied, "Quite. Quiet. Quench. Quiescent. Does that answer your question?" Then, as Huard laughed and handed him his cup, Prosper said, "I was listening, but your words touched off a thought in my mind. I was trying to decide whether it was a blessing or a tragedy that I became a priest."
Huard, turning aside to check the sacred instruments that had been polished overnight, said, "And what have you decided?"
"It is difficult to tell. If I had become a priest later in my life, after I had been trained in the discipline as you have been training me, would I have had the strength to control my native demon? One thing I do know: my decision to become a priest at thirteen destroyed that path as a vocation for me. I was too young, too undisciplined, sought out too little spiritual oversight in my formative years. Under those conditions, my demon grew too strong, and though I believe that I now have control enough over it to lead the life of a man of temporal affairs, I do not believe that it would ever be wise for me to have spiritual supervision over anyone again."
Huard opened the purification lamp, cleaned out the ashes from the previous fire, and touched the prayer-light that had been flickering in his hut for six months. "That is reason enough for you to regret having become a priest. Why do you think you may have been blessed by your life's work?"
"Because, though it was not the right vocation for me, somehow, through the God's blessing, I found through it the path to my true vocation. All those years I spent teaching priest-pupils, thinking of teaching as no more than a means to the higher end of supervising the spiritual lives of priests in making, were years when I developed my native gift – a gift which, if I had not become a priest, I might never have recognized. It is odd," he reflected, looking over at Huard, who was lifting the top half of the purification lamp. "It now seems to me that all the happenings I underwent during those years – even the terrible destruction I caused upon the bodies and spirits of those who were under my care – were only preparations for this moment when I would begin my true service to the God."
"Even so," said Huard, turning again toward the shelf of sacred objects, "it must have been a difficult decision for you to make."
"It was," said Prosper, his eye following the path of the tiny, shining prayer-light as Huard used it to light the lamp. "That was why your use of the word 'sacrifice' triggered this thought. I would not have believed, three months ago, that I would have the strength to make such a decision – to give up the work to which I have devoted forty-four years and in which I have found my deepest devotion to the God. Yet oddly enough, that seems part of the preparation. It is necessary to make that sacrifice so that—"
He stopped abruptly, having realized what Huard was doing. The priest, carefully lowering the lid of the purification lamp, said without looking his way, "Do you remember what you told me on the day that you advised me to give up sweets for the remainder of my life?"
"Quite well," Prosper said, his eye on the purification lamp, which was now sending out the God-mask in the form of mask-shaped lights glowing upon the chamber walls. "I told it to all of my pupils, at some point in their training. 'The brightest purification of all is not fire, but a willing sacrifice.'" Without awaiting the command, he knelt and silenced his mind.
Huard stepping forward with the lamp, held it briefly above his former teacher, and then brought the lamp down before Prosper's face so that the light shown into Prosper's eyes. The priest twirled the chain, causing the light to spin dizzily about. As he slowly encircled the lamp around Prosper, he said, "With the God's light, I purify this man of any remaining demons, beyond that which afflict all God-loving men. With this light I signify that this man is once more the God's beloved and may enter into the God's presence. Yet it is not I who purifies this man, but the man himself, for only the demon-filled man has the power to drive out his own demons." The formal words complete, Huard withdrew the lamp and waited.
Prosper, his mind so still that he did not notice the pain shooting through his legs as he knelt upon the ground, lifted his head to look at the priest. If Huard had expected to hear him ask questions about why his sentence of exile had been lifted early, he was disappointed, for Prosper's mind was not on the purification he had undergone. His spirit's vision was focussed on more important matters.
"The sacrifice," he said. "Did it work?"
Huard smiled as he set the lamp aside. "I wondered when you would ask. I didn't tell you before, because it would not have assisted in your discipline, but I am afraid that I am one of the rare boys who thrived under the overly harsh discipline you placed upon
your priest-pupils. If you had not advised me to sacrifice my love of sweets to the God, I fear that I would never have gained the discipline necessary to become a priest."
He reached down, helping Prosper to his feet as a teacher helps his pupil. "A debt repaid," he said. "Thank you for offering me the opportunity to give back to you what you gave to me."
o—o—o
To Huard:
I am enclosing this short note within my longer letter concerning Prosper's exile. You may wish to read the longer letter to Prosper, so that he can know the nature of my concern for his spirit. I would ask that you keep the contents of this shorter note private, as though you had received it under the lock of confession.
I have advised the High Priest, and he agrees with me on this matter, that Prosper should not be permitted to re-enter the priesthood. His demonic acts have occurred over too long a period and are too grave to allow for that. I had planned to tell Prosper of the High Priest's decision before he left for his exile, so that he would hold no false hopes in the coming year, but it occurs to me that this may be an occasion when the "brightest purification" could be put to use. (You will know what I mean, having been taught by Prosper.) If this occurs and is effective in making Prosper no more demon-filled than the average man, then you have the High Priest's permission to end the exile early.
But of course such a sacrifice would need to be given willingly, without compulsion. That is my second reason for sending Prosper to you. I know your tact; I know that you can subtly offer Prosper the opportunity to make his sacrifice without in any way coercing him to do so.
I hope you share my belief that this deception is in no way demonic. Rather, I believe, you and I will thus be serving as tools for the God who guides us to the path that is right for us, in ways that can never be knowable.
In trust of that Mystery which can never be fully named,
Martin
o—o—o
o—o—o
o—o—o
=== Upcoming fiction ===
LAW OF VENGEANCE
Excerpt
For many years, I have wished to make a memoir of my life to pass on to future generations of Emorians who desire to learn what it means to have complete dedication to the Chara and his law. This is not to be the memoir I intended, but I find the time passing slowly here in the Chara's dungeon, and I would rather spend my days thinking of what has happened than of what is to come. For in one month's time I will taken before the Chara so that he may pass judgment on me. After that – for we Emorians move swiftly in these matters – I will be taken to the execution yard, and my head will be sliced off.
It is a gentler punishment, says the Chara, than I deserve.
He told me this last night when he came to see me. He stood at one end of the cell, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded, and wearing the cold smile I knew he had learned from me. His tunic-flap was pinned shut with his royal emblem brooch depicting the Balance of Judgment, the Heart of Mercy, and the Sword of Vengeance. He has worn the brooch nearly every day since I gave it to him when he was a boy, but I knew from his look that he had worn it this time in mockery.
Mockery is an activity in which he has had much practice since my arrest. He has commanded me to address him as Peter, since I was always reluctant to presume on our friendship and address my ruler in so familiar a fashion. By the same token, he calls me Lord Carle, though I am no longer a council lord and will soon be nothing more than a court case that may interest future generations, since I am the first man in four hundred years to be charged with this particular crime.
The Chara Peter says that I ought to be happy to die in such a manner, since I have never loved anything more than the law books. He is right that I love the law, just as I have always loved the embodiment of the law, the Chara, who keeps this land alive through his judgment of the Emorian people. But it was not until my arrest that I realized what I love as much as the Chara and his law: the man named Peter, who for the past twenty-two years has been to me the son I never had.
o—o—o
For notices of new fiction, please subscribe to the updates e-mail list or blog feed:
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o—o—o
o—o—o
o—o—o
=== Back matter ===
CREDITS
Law Links editor: Kathleen Livingston.
Law Links editorial assistant and mathematics consultant: Jo/e Noakes.
Law Links science consultant: Parhelion.
Blood Vow editors: Katharine Bond, Kathleen Livingston, Parhelion, and Tracy Shaw.
Blood Vow editorial assistants: Isha, Lyn, Nigel Puerasch, Suza, and Theresa.
Blood Vow science consultants: Parhelion and Maureen Lycaon.
Re-creation editor: Parhelion.
Bard of Pain editors: K. M. Frontain and Maureen Lycaon.
Mystery editor: K. M. Frontain.
Cover design and interior design: Dusk Peterson.
Cover art: Detail from A Prize for the Artists' Corps (Wine), by Lawrence Alma-Tadema (1836-1912). An exotically-dressed young man offers a cup of wine.
PUBLICATION HISTORY
Law Links: November 1995 to November 2009 (composition).
Blood Vow: August 1995 to March 1996 (composition; the short story on which it was based was composed in 1979), February 2008 (list edition), July 2008 (Web edition and booktrailer), and July 2009 (Kindle e-book edition).
"Re-creation": November 2008 (composition), December 2008 (list edition and Web edition), and December 2010 (e-book editions).
"Bard of Pain": June 2002 (composition and list edition), May 2006 (Web edition), October 2007 (audio book edition, e-book editions [various formats], and booktrailer), March 2008 (Kindle e-book edition), and May 2008 (braille and DAISY editions).
"Mystery": March 2001 (composition) and June 2002 (list edition and Web edition).
The Three Lands Omnibus: 2011 edition in April 2011 (e-book editions).
MORE WRITINGS BY DUSK PETERSON
For Dusk Peterson's e-books, online fiction and nonfiction, and series resources, please visit:
duskpeterson.com
For notices of new fiction, please subscribe to the updates e-mail list or blog feed:
duskpeterson.com/lists.htm
Author's contact information:
duskpeterson.com/#contact
Table of Contents
Law Links 1: God of Vengeance
Law Links 2: The Sword
Law Links 3: God of Mercy
Law Links 4: The Bird
Law Links 5: God of Judgment
Law Links 6: The Balance
Blood Vow 1: The Gods' Land
Blood Vow 2: Land of the Chara
Blood Vow 3: The Look of the Chara
Blood Vow 4: Land of the Jackal
Blood Vow 5: The Eyes of the Jackal
Blood Vow 6: The God's Land
Re-creation
Bard of Pain 1: The Darkness
Bard of Pain 2: The Fire
Mystery
Law of Vengeance: Excerpt
Credits
Publication history
More writings by Dusk Peterson
The Three Lands Omnibus (2011 Edition) Page 111