The Secular Wizard

by Christopher Stasheff

  Saul shrugged. "Maybe none of them had a confederate on the outside. From what I hear of sorcerers, none of them would help anybody else if he didn't have to, and definitely wouldn't want to increase the competition by bringing somebody back out of solitary. Wizards might not be outright people-haters, but from what I've seen of them, they tend to be loners—lots of acquaintances, but not very many close friends."

  "A few really good ones are all you need!" Matt protested.

  Saul shot him one of his rare warm glances. "Hey, I know that, man—but most of the people I meet don't. They like to travel in packs: the bigger the better." He turned back to Arouetto. "So there's no proof any wizard or sorcerer has tried to get out, with a pull from the outside—and they certainly haven't ganged up trying. Here, you've got two experienced wizards, ready to work together, and a scholar who probably has more understanding of magic than he's willing to admit."

  "Well... I have read the theories of Pythagoras," Arouetto admitted.

  "Then you've got a book that didn't survive in our universe." Now it was Saul who tensed. "After this is all wrapped up, I want to see that text!"

  "Why, surely, if my belongings have not all been vandalized. But how are we to proceed now?"

  "Well, we know it's possible to reach in here from outside," Saul said, "because we know Rebozo did it, sending that chimera after you. In fact, he probably watches what goes on in here pretty closely, brewing up even bigger trouble, so we'd better get moving fast. If he can reach in, we can probably reach out. What would make Brother Thomas concentrate on you?"

  Arouetto smiled. "Why, a picture of me with the inscription, 'Think of me!' "

  "Of course," Saul said. "Pardon me while I feel dumb. Any time I'm getting too cocky, Matt, just tell me to come have a chat with this guy."

  "Why, how is this?" Arouetto looked back and forth from one to the other with concern. "I do not mean offense!"

  "Of course not," Saul said. "You just see the obvious that goes right past the two of us, 'cause we're busy looking for something complicated. Okay, Scholar Arouetto—think up a self-portrait with the inscription, and we two will get busy concentrating on a mental picture of Brother Thomas' face."

  "Will that accomplish anything?" Arouetto asked doubtfully.

  "Who knows? It's sure worth a try!"

  "It is that." Arouetto shrugged. "Very well, then, here is my portrait." His brow furrowed with concentration, and a miniature appeared in a filigreed frame. It was a bit uglier than the real thing, but none the less recognizable. Underneath it was a small metal scroll engraved with the words, Think of me.

  "Got it." Saul closed his eyes and grabbed Matt's hand. Matt squeezed back, closing his eyes and picturing Brother Thomas' face, then expanding the view to show him wearing a monk's robe and holding out a hand with the miniature in it. "Right hand."

  "Right," Saul acknowledged.

  Matt groped with his left hand, felt Arouetto catch it. "I have your hand, Lord Wizard!" the scholar said.

  "Hold tight," Matt said between his teeth. "If anything happens, it'll happen fast."

  Suddenly, he felt it, the way you feel someone's gaze on the back of your neck, only stronger, much stronger. It felt as if he had stepped out of the shade into a ray of noontime sun in summertime Nevada. From a distance he heard Saul say, "Got him! Now, Matt—'I'm Going Away,' past tense!"

  Matt sang with him, not quite on the same pitch:

  "I've gone away

  For to stay

  A little while,

  But I'm coming back,

  Though I go ten thousand mile!"

  The fabric of the universe seemed to wrench and tear about them. Reality rocked, and Matt clamped tight with both hands as his inner ear went crazy, registering a tilting and seesawing from side to side and back and forth. Dimly, he heard Arouetto cry out with alarm, and Saul cry out with elation. Himself, he just bit his lip and hoped for the best.

  Then the world seemed to stabilize, a little at a time, until Matt finally realized that the rocking was going on in his stomach, not in the world around him. With trepidation, he opened his eyes...

  And found himself in a small but spacious room with sunlight pouring in through open windows, the smell of flowers in the air, plain cream-colored plaster walls with the dark supporting beams showing, and a monk on a high stool, sitting at a higher desk, looking up at them in delight. Matt recognized Brother Thomas, not quite as noble-looking as Arouetto's picture of him—and in the monk's right hand was the miniature of Arouetto.

  "Friend Arouetto!" Brother Thomas cried in a surprisingly deep voice. "What a joy to see you! It has been so long! But who are these wizardly companions of yours?"

  Matt was just about to answer when the world darkened and he felt the room spinning again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  All things considered, Matt was very relieved to see the same room around him when he came to. He'd had a bad moment when he thought Rebozo had magically pulled him away. He said as much, but Brother Thomas assured him, "No evil sorcery can touch you here. There is too much holiness about us, too many prayers filling the air." Then he frowned. "Of course, if you wished the powers of Evil to touch you, if even some part of you that you did not wish to acknowledge longed for that touch, you would breach our defenses."

  "I don't think even my subconscious wants that," Matt said thickly. "It's seen a little too much of the results."

  "Here, drink." The monk held a goblet near Matt's lips. "Gently, for 'tis brandy—but a sip or two will bring the color back to your cheeks."

  Matt took a guarded sip, and heat exploded on his tongue, down his esophagus, and into his stomach. He exhaled, expecting to see fire, and found himself sitting upright. "Yes," he said hoarsely. "That'll straighten out a snake." He swallowed and said, "Nice brew."

  "But perhaps a bit of water after it?" Brother Thomas smiled and held out another goblet. Matt took it, and the monk turned away to press the brandy on Saul, then Arouetto—both of whom, Matt was relieved to see, were looking pretty green around the gills themselves. The brandy straightened them up, of course, and Brother Thomas was right—it did bring the color back to their cheeks, though they needed the chaser, too.

  "Didn't know you folks had brandy here," Saul said.

  "We have a most talented monk in charge of our stillery," Brother Thomas explained.

  "New invention, then." Saul nodded. "I'm sure it will catch on."

  "Well, you seem to be somewhat restored." Brother Thomas beamed around at his collection of hulks beached on hardwood benches. "It is so good of you to visit a poor friar in his solitude! But tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit—especially when it is made in so unorthodox a manner?"

  He was polite, but he was very curious—and very good at hearing them out, then asking questions that drew every last ounce of information from them. Finally he leaned back on his stool, resting against the desk, nodding in satisfaction that he had the whole story. "So! You have the audacity to set yourselves against the wickedness permitted by King Boncorro—or to seek to help him banish the wickedness that remains from the reign of King Maledicto, if you can first determine which is the case."

  "I vote for leftovers," Matt said. "I've met Chancellor Rebozo."

  "He has an unsavory reputation, yes," Brother Thomas agreed, "though most seem to think it is only because he toadies to the king and does whatever his Majesty commands, whether it be good or ill."

  "He prefers ill," Matt averred.

  Arouetto agreed. "Dismiss whatever reputation you have heard of his kindliness, Brother Thomas. He is a mean and cruel man, enjoying others' misery."

  "You speak from your own experience?" Brother Thomas asked with interest.

  "Yes," Matt and Arouetto said together.

  The monk steepled his fingers together. "And what do you propose to do about it?"

  Arouetto and Saul exchanged a blank look, but Matt said slowly, "The king is trying very hard to be a materiali
st and believe in nothing but the things he can see and taste and touch. The result is that he has made a very good beginning on transforming Latruria into a secular society."

  Brother Thomas frowned. "But we have always had to contend with the secular aspects of life. The word only means 'worldly,' after all."

  "Yes—but most people have looked beyond this world, to the next. King Boncorro is trying to convince himself, and his people, that this world is all there is."

  Brother Thomas pursed his lips and whistled, gazing off into space.

  "Yes," Matt said. "Taking it to a bit of an extreme, isn't he?"

  "He is most surely! There is nothing wrong with seeking to cope with the trials and burdens of this world, mind you, nor to seek worldly pleasures, so long as you hurt no one else thereby—"

  "You sure you're not a heretic?" Saul demanded.

  "Quite sure." Brother Thomas grinned. "But the pope and his cardinals are not. Still, it is me you are asking, and it is I who shall answer. Christ told us to render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's, after all, which I interpret as meaning that we must pay some attention to worldly matters."

  "Some." Matt held up a palm. "Not all."

  "Not all, by any means. The Way of the World is cruel, with the stronger feeding upon the weaker, even grinding the weaker into the dust. We speak of slavery; we speak of toadying to those of higher rank and bullying those of lower; we speak of seeking to squeeze every last ounce of pleasure out of this life, with no concern for who may be hurt in the process. No, the secular life, with no spiritual values to balance it, will surely lead to evil. And this is the course on which King Boncorro has set every soul in his kingdom!"

  "So far, yes," Matt agreed. "But if we can interest him in some sort of moral principles, maybe we can balance that downward trend and pull it up to a level."

  "And how shall you manage that? He will have nothing to do with religion!"

  "No," Matt said, "but he is interested in the old learning, in the writings of the Greeks and Remans."

  "Is he truly?" Brother Thomas said slowly, turning to look at Arouetto.

  The scholar held up both palms to fend him off. "Do not seek to saddle me with him, I pray! My faith is in God first, yes, but in humankind second! Would you have this secular king become a humanist?"

  "Yes," Brother Thomas said, the fire of zeal lighting his eye. "It will bring him morality of a sort; it will bring him ethical principles!"

  "But I am not a teacher!"

  "Only because you haven't been asked," Matt pointed out.

  "King Boncorro will not ask me to teach him!"

  "Want to bet?"

  "I'll bet," Saul said. "I'll bet that this Chancellor Rebozo won't let Arouetto within a mile of the king!"

  "He must indeed have some protection." Brother Thomas' keen gaze seemed to sink right into Matt's brain.

  "Saul and I might be enough protection, between us," Matt admitted, "but Saul's a secular humanist himself, and I have more than my share of spiritual weaknesses. Wouldn't we need some kind of shielding?"

  Brother Thomas sighed. "All we can offer is prayer, but I speak ahead of myself. I cannot decide on so weighty a matter. You must speak to the Holy Father and let him judge your wisdom or folly."

  "The pope?" Matt stared.

  "Even so. I shall arrange an audience."

  "Well, there's only the three of us," Matt said, "and that's not much of a house—but if you can give us a chance, maybe we can persuade him."

  The only problem was, he wasn't sure what he was going to be trying to persuade the pope to do.

  "Let you leave the Vatican?" The pope smiled. "To be sure! You may leave whenever you wish! But how shall you pass through the lines of the condottieri who surround us?"

  "Condottieri?" Matt turned to Brother Thomas. "You didn't tell us about this."

  The monk waved the objection away. "Surely a minor detail, for a wizard of your prowess."

  "Maybe not," Saul said, glowering. "Who are these bandits, and how many of them are there?"

  "Several thousand," the pope sighed, "and they have celebrated the third anniversary of their surrounding of our hill."

  "Three years in place?" Saul looked up, almost indignantly. "How come they haven't all died of dysentery and cholera?"

  "Oh, they live well," Brother Thomas told him. "Their days may be filled with drill and other military exercises, but their nights are wild with revelry. The king keeps them well-supplied with wine and women and money for gambling. They have settled down to stay, Lord Wizard. We speak not of a city of tents, mind you—they have built themselves wooden barracks, even houses for the officers. Their captains have captured the palaces of noblemen!"

  "Captains, plural?" Saul demanded. "This isn't just one band, then?"

  "Nay," said Brother Thomas. "It is eight bands, allied and agreed as to who has jurisdiction over which sector. In truth, they have taken the city of Reme and become its virtual government."

  "So it's not just a campaign against you? You're simply the only hill that's been able to hold out?"

  "Yes," said the pope, "though our endurance is certainly not due to our handful of valiant Swiss guardsmen. I think the mercenary captains are in awe of us—either that, or our prayers are answered more strongly than even I would expect."

  "Or," Saul said slowly, "they have more to gain by leaving you be than by capturing you."

  The pope turned to him, frowning. "How could that be?"

  "Let's just say—purely hypothetically, you understand—that the bandits did take the Vatican," Saul said. "What would King Boncorro do then?"

  The pope stood immobile as the consequences added up in his brain—but it was Brother Thomas who spoke. "He could not allow them to keep the ancient capital of the empire, could he?"

  "Definitely not," Saul said. "Too much prestige in it—not to mention a central location, the Tiber for a supply line, and all the surrounding farmland to feed them. They would start raiding the other cities—and there's every chance they'd manage to take Latruria away from King Boncorro. After all, these guys aren't simple forest bandits, are they?"

  "Not at all," Brother Thomas said, thin-lipped. "They are mercenary armies, seeking a living while they are unemployed."

  "What makes you so sure they're unemployed?"

  The other four men stared at Saul, astounded.

  "Yes, of course," Matt said slowly. "King Boncorro couldn't just leave them at loose ends, could he? He'd have them raiding all over the peninsula, wreaking chaos—and undermining the prosperity he's trying to build. Better to pay them to stay out of the way."

  "Wouldn't work," Saul said firmly. " 'Once you have paid the Danegeld, you never get rid of the Dane.' "

  "Dane?" The pope looked from one to the other, puzzled.

  "The Vikings who raided England," Matt explained. "One of the kings tried to pay them off—and it worked for a few months, sometimes a year. But sooner or later they came back to demand more."

  "However," Saul said, "if you didn't just pay them to stay away, but hired them to do a definite job, they might stay occupied and permanently out of the way."

  "You are saying that the king hired them to lock us in, but never to take us?"

  "No, I'm saying he told them to conquer you, but the captains figured out fast that once they took the Vatican, the paychecks would stop—so they came up with a plausible story about not being able to march past the foot of your slope, and settled down to starve you out."

  "But we have wells and water, and they have not attempted to keep the barges from selling us food!"

  "Well, can they help it if they don't have a navy?" Saul asked. "Meantime, the king pays them well to live in luxury. They're happy, he's happy—and you're penned up where you can't interfere with his plans."

  "It is possible, it is very possible," the pope muttered, shaking his head. "I would not have thought him to be so devious."

  Saul shrugged. "Okay, so maybe he just told his chancellor to
find a way to keep the mercenaries out of the way and peaceful, and Rebozo decided it was worth sacrificing Reme, to make sure you guys couldn't bust up his plans. Would the king really worry about it?"

  "Nay." The pope's lips thinned. "In fact, I can see that he might applaud the notion. But how are we to be rid of them?"

  "Do you want to be?" Saul challenged.

  "Of course!" the pope snapped. "There is no chance of doing God's work, of preaching the Gospel and administering the sacraments, if we are kept as virtual prisoners here!"

  "But you have priests out in the countryside to do that work," Saul objected, "priests in secret, priests in hiding, but no less effective for all that. I've even run into one man who claims that nothing spreads a religion so much as persecution."

  "I will allow that it tempers us and makes those of us who cling to the Faith crystalline in our belief," the pope said, "but 'spread'?"

  "So it's the man in the field who does the real work, as always," Saul pointed out. "What do they need to be in touch with the bureaucrats at headquarters for?"

  The pope's eyes narrowed. "I do not think I like you, Wizard Saul."

  "Join the club," Saul said with a sardonic smile. "You've got plenty of company. But I notice you haven't answered the question."

  "The valiant clergy must be in contact with us for the same reason that a body needs a head!" the pope snapped. "Without our direction, without our inspiration, their faith would falter, they would succumb to fear and to temptations of the flesh! Most serious of all, the usurper has set up a puppet pope in the north, at that little town just below the Alps. The imposter claims to be the true pope!"

  "Which you are, of course," Saul said, poker-faced.

  "Of course I am! The cardinals elected me, and stayed here with me, save for the handful who fled to do Boncorro's bidding! Oh, the people cry that it is a sign of his tolerance, of his allowing the faithful to practice their Faith again—but we know better, for we have heard this puppet pope's edicts! He teaches that each bishop can interpret the Scriptures for himself without the restriction of the papacy! He teaches that adultery is permissible, if it is done far from home! He teaches that the people need only heed the law of the king, but never the law of the Church!"