by Rick Shelley
"The last news we had of His Majesty, he was in Rouen," Eleanora said at one point. "That was at Eastertide."
"I'm not sure I've heard anything more recent," Silvas admitted. "Perhaps something about the court planning to return after the spring rains." He shrugged. "Unless there was fighting to be done."
"Have you ever been to court, Lord Silvas?" Eleanora asked.
"His Majesty has been kind enough to have received me twice," he replied. That brought stares from all of the others at the head table. "The first time he had heard of me from the deacon at Canterbury. The second time we chanced to be in the same town at the same time. He saw the smoke and came to look." But not to enter, Silvas thought. The king had been unready to pass through the smoke.
"Did you see the queen?" Maria asked, reaching out and almost touching Silvas's arm.
He shook his head. "No. The first time I saw His Majesty, it was before the marriage. The second time she did not accompany him."
"Have you traveled all over the kingdom?" Maria asked.
"I have seen most of it, and some lands beyond."
"Have you been to Rome?" Eleanora asked, hurrying to get the question in before Maria could ask another.
"No, my lady," Silvas admitted. "These days, that pilgrimage is difficult even for a wizard."
"Can't you just conjure yourself there in that tower of smoke?" Maria asked.
"You overestimate my abilities," Silvas said. "I couldn't conjure my way here in the smoke. I had to ride in and bring the smoke to me. It always works that way."
"Oh." Maria looked down at her trencher, embarrassed at missing such an obvious connection.
Sir Eustace cleared his throat. When Maria looked at him, he gave her a fierce frown, enough to make her look back down at her food.
"What you said before," Eustace said, "about the Blue Rose. That would explain a lot, would it not?"
"It would," Silvas agreed slowly, waiting for Eleanora to say something about heresy being unfit table talk during the meal. But she didn't interrupt. "But I don't know yet how much of it that it explains. Until I can learn the truth about that..." He let his voice trail off, and Eleanora finally did come to his rescue.
"There's time enough for that kind of talk later. Think what it will do to your digestion." She put her hand on her husband's arm. He tried to smile and almost succeeded.
"Whatever," Silvas said. He waved his right hand in a small gesture. "I promised that I would solve Mecq's water troubles. I promised the lady, your wife, and the people of Mecq as well. Before I ride away from your valley, Sir Eustace, you will have the water you need, the water your father struggled to provide."
Sir Eustace turned fully toward Silvas. "That is a considerable promise, Lord Wizard," he said. "From what Master Henry saw, it seems you might have the power to fulfill it. I will be properly thankful if you can." Then Eustace turned quickly away, reaching for his beer and taking a long drink. He wasn't entirely happy with the situation. To have an outsider come in and do more for his people than he could rankled. Eustace emptied his mug and called for more beer.
"A promise of that sort is sacred to me, Sir Eustace," Silvas said. "I would not have made it if I was not confident that I could fulfill it."
"Could I watch you do that magic?" Maria asked. "Or any magic. It doesn't have to be that one."
That brought another glare from Sir Eustace. Silvas looked down for an instant before he looked at Maria. Her attentiveness was becoming an embarrassment.
"This is really nothing to see," he said softly. "And when I do important work, I need to concentrate entirely on that. In any case, the place to look will be at the river. The proof of the magic is more impressive than the magic itself."
"I don't think so," Maria said, then she looked away when her father cleared his throat noisily.
—|—
Night had settled in firmly before Silvas finally took his leave. Eleanora and Fitz-Matthew accompanied him to the door. Sir Eustace had excused himself by saying that he needed to see to the guards. Maria had been sent to care for her young brother—halfbrother—the boy who would inherit Mecq.
Eleanora went no farther than the door. "Good night, Lord Wizard," she said. "Thank you for coming, and for your promise to help our people. I look forward to visiting your home."
Silvas gave her a deep bow. "Soon, my lady, I hope. I thank you for your hospitality."
Fitz-Matthew called for Silvas's horse and waited on the top step until the wizard rode through the front gate. Just making sure that I'm really going, Silvas told himself with a smile.
The gate closed quickly behind him. As soon as Bay was started down the path to the valley, Silvas said, "I hope you can see well enough for this road in the dark."
Bay snorted softly.
"It was a full evening," Silvas continued. "Sir Eustace tried to be civil. The ladies were both attentive. Sir Eustace's father was on the Burgundy crusade, but Blethye was not, though he had taken the cross."
Bay did not reply. In the night's stillness, his voice would carry a long way, and there were sentries on the wall above them.
Silvas looked across the valley. The pillar of smoke that concealed the Glade was faintly luminous in the dark—not a pillar of fire, just giving off a soft glow for those who had the power to see it. Home.
No lights showed in the village. A farming community would retire and rise with the sun. Most would be up before the sun, ready to work until darkness approached again. And even if they had energy to spare, most villagers would hesitate to venture outside after dark. They would know that the Devil might be lurking in the darkness, ready to carry their souls off. To simple folk like those of Mecq, the night held nothing but evil.
Silvas enjoyed the peace of the night. There were no noises to compete with the sound of Bay's hoofbeats along the road. Even the crickets went quiet as the horse approached. No night birds called out.
"If only we get through tonight without a repeat of last night's troubles," Silvas said softly. "I feel the need for a full night of sleep. Sleep may get rare before we finish here."
The hint of motion in the darkness was a surprise. Silvas was looking toward the smoke that hid the Seven Towers and barely caught the movement from the side of his eye. He pulled on Bay's reins and the horse stopped. A figure was standing at the edge of the village green, off to the left.
"Brother Paul," Silvas whispered. Bay turned and headed toward the friar.
"I'm surprised to see you about so late," Silvas said when Bay stopped.
Brother Paul looked up and shrugged. "The needs of my flock come before comfort," he said. "I think you and I need to talk, Lord Wizard."
CHAPTER NINE
Silvas dismounted, leaving the reins draped loosely on Bay's neck. He walked closer to Brother Paul.
"It's a cool night," Silvas said.
"A blessing in a hot summer like this," Brother Paul said. "It doesn't even feel so dry at night."
"I wondered that you were standing outside without even a light while everyone else is shut up indoors against the terrors that they 'know' haunt the dark," Silvas said. "Do you have a single parishioner who won't swear that the Devil walks the night to claim souls?"
"I have my faith to shield me," Brother Paul said, avoiding the wizard's half-bantering question. "I need no more."
"I hope you never find a time when that is not enough, but you are quite right, we do need to talk. Though I thought you might prefer to wait until you get your instructions back from Bishop Egbert of St. Ives."
Brother Paul smiled. "That might take too long," he said, showing no discomfiture at learning that Silvas knew about his rider. "St. Ives is a long way off, and the good bishop has many flocks to tend."
"Then let us talk, by all means," Silvas said. "The night has no more terrors for me than for you."
Brother Paul gestured toward the front of St. Katrinka's. Silvas nodded and followed the vicar through the open door. There was a single candle burnin
g in a small alcove next to the door. Brother Paul used that to light several more candles on a head-high stand.
"My word may not yet suffice," Silvas said while the vicar was lighting his candles, "but I think I can give you some idea of what Bishop Egbert is likely to say about me."
Brother Paul interrupted his lighting ritual to look at the wizard. "You have the gift of reading minds?"
"Not at all," Silvas said. "But in this instance no such gift is necessary. I am not unknown to the White Brotherhood. We serve the same master even if our paths and charges are different."
"Then what instructions am I likely to receive?" Brother Paul had finally lighted enough candles to suit him.
"A line of scripture, perhaps." Silvas paused almost long enough to let the friar say that it wasn't much of a prediction to make in regard to a churchman before he added, "Perhaps something like, 'He who is not against us is on our part.' " Silvas smiled at his repetition of that line. He had used it often over the years.
"Sir Eustace has already asked for the Church's opinion of you, Lord Wizard," Brother Paul said, not bothering to comment on Silvas's quote even though another passage came to mind—about the Devil being able to quote scripture. "Henry Fitz-Matthew has been down here twice today asking."
"Asking for himself or for his master?" Silvas asked.
"The question was put as being from Sir Eustace," the friar said. "The chamberlain did show considerable interest of his own."
"I make him uneasy," Silvas said. He shrugged. "And I don't think that Sir Eustace took any great liking to me at our first meetings."
"Sir Eustace does not take easily to anyone," the vicar said. "He has a lot to occupy his mind in this holding. And strangers make everyone uneasy here, at least until folks know what they bring." Brother Paul went along the side of the nave and stopped in front of the shrine to the Virgin Mary. Silvas moved along with the friar.
"Master Fitz-Matthew has not been the only one to mention you to me," Brother Paul said after a hurried Ave Maria. "Old Maga brought her sister's husband in to show me that he had been cured. She carried on at great length and not all that she said was understandable." Brother Paul smiled. "I have never seen her so... excited. The cure of her sister's husband was miracle enough, but Old Maga babbled about a great castle hidden within your pillar of smoke."
"She was inside the smoke this morning," Silvas said. "She saw part of my home. Did she have anything else to say?"
"Not too plainly. She said that Blue Rose heretics were out to get Berl. That's her sister's husband," the vicar said. "She got particularly excited then, and I had trouble following what she was saying. Berl finally had to escort her out, she got so agitated."
"I can at least give it to you plainly, what I have learned so far," Silvas said. "Berl's illness was caused by spells cast by an adept of the Blue Rose. Their magics of punishment cannot be mistaken."
"It is beyond my ken," Brother Paul replied. "I know that I failed to bring healing to Berl, and I tried with my prayers and with such minor magics as our good Lord has entrusted me. But what could have brought the man so afoul of those cursed heretics?" The vicar didn't even think to question Silvas's identification of the Blue Rose as the cause of Berl's illness, and that startled the priest when he realized that he accepted the stranger's word so readily on such a grave question. My heart believes the man too easily, he warned himself. That is not wise.
"That I do not know. It may have been simply that Berl was a man of Mecq and somehow convenient for such a punishment. It may be that others here have suffered as well. Sir Eustace's father and Henry Fitz-Matthew were on the crusade against the Blue Rose."
"When I was a novice learning my letters at the monastery, I was taught that Pope Innocent's crusade wiped out the foul heretics," the vicar said.
"You say that as if you didn't believe it."
Brother Paul crossed himself. "May God forgive me, but I have always found it easier to believe in the survival of evil than in its destruction."
"Unfortunately, that attitude is too often right."
Brother Paul walked a few steps toward the center of the church, looking toward the altar. It was a simple wooden affair, not nearly as grand as others he had seen. Even the church at Sarum, where he had spent his childhood, had been much finer. We serve where we are needed, he reminded himself. Then he faced the wizard again. "You say that the illness was the direct work of the Blue Rose. Does that mean that we have the scourge here in Mecq?"
"Perhaps not within Mecq, but nearby at least. Berl was not laid low by a simple curse laid on him by a passing stranger. From what Old Maga told me, her sister's husband and a lot of other villagers have suffered uncommonly since they dammed the Eyler and were forced to take it back down. If that is true, then this evil has been working on Mecq for a considerable time."
"I've not been here that long," Brother Paul said. "I can't answer as to the truth of that. But I have heard the tale."
"I have pledged to provide Mecq with a steady supply of sufficient water," Silvas said.
"I have heard that tale as well," Brother Paul said, but softly, not in a scoffing way.
"I don't take vows lightly, Vicar. And I don't leave them unfulfilled. But it won't happen overnight—at least not over this night. With the Blue Rose near and hostile, I need time to find a solution that will stand up to their efforts to undo my work. But before I leave, Mecq will have its water—unless I die first."
Silvas closed his eyes for a moment. He still had only the same weak chain of events—Berl's illness caused by the Blue Rose, the tale of the workers on the dam and their alleged "uncommon bad luck," the unnatural shortage of water in the valley, the crusade against the Blue Rose. There was nothing new, but every time he went over the links—tenuous though they were—he became more convinced that there was more at stake than water or the life of one peasant.
"Before I act on the water, I need to discover how strong the evil is," Silvas said. "There may be more at risk than either you or I ever dreamed we would face."
Brother Paul was watching Silvas closely. At those last words the friar crossed himself again, very rapidly.
"You do right, Vicar," Silvas said, nodding.
Brother Paul felt his face grow pale from a chill that was more than night air. The Millennium is at hand came to mind. Once more he had to caution himself against accepting anything this stranger said unconditionally.
"Could it be?" he asked, though.
"Could it be what?" Silvas asked. "Armageddon? Götterdämerung? Either is possible." He shrugged. "But perhaps it is too soon to think in those terms." I am letting my fears run away from me, he told himself. "It may be nothing more than a small group of heretics banded together to cause what trouble they may. Pray that it is no more, Brother Paul," Silvas urged, and the vicar nodded without even willing it.
Silvas shook his head and looked around. "The night carries me to excess," he apologized. "Even I am imagining demons where there may be none. Unless there is more you think we need to discuss tonight, I'll take my leave."
"You have given me sufficient to disturb my sleep, Lord Wizard," Brother Paul said, "more than I expected."
As he watched Silvas lead his horse toward the column of smoke, Brother Paul pulled his cassock tighter around him. Then he turned and crossed to the altar to kneel and pray.
—|—
Silvas could hear the mumbling of Brother Paul's prayers as he led Bay home. The sound was lost as they entered the smoke, cut off by the hundreds of miles that separated the Seven Towers from Mecq.
"You disturbed the friar," Bay observed.
"I disturbed myself as much," Silvas said.
"You have a gift for that."
Silvas did not deny it.
Bosc was running across the courtyard toward the gate when Bay and Silvas entered. The groom always seemed to know exactly when to appear to accept the horse from Silvas.
"Before you two go off, I need a Council this night,"
Silvas said. Bay and Bosc both looked at him. "I will come for you both when the time is right."
Neither of them said anything. The only response was a slow blinking of both eyes from Bosc. Silvas nodded and the others started toward the stable.
Lord, am I tired, Silvas thought. This day has already been too long, and it is not near finished. The thought made his exhaustion feel greater. He walked slowly to the keep while he looked within himself for the energy to complete the night's work. I hope we can get through the Council, and the night, without another attack. The Blue Rose would likely respond to his curing of the peasant Berl. The only question was How soon?
—|—
"Ah, there you are, my heart," Carillia said when Silvas entered the great hall. She held her left hand out to the side, and Koshka hurried to fill a goblet with wine and take it to Silvas. Carillia moved to intercept the wizard in the center of the hall. "I was beginning to wonder how late they would keep you on the hill."
Silvas smiled, then took a long drink of the spicy wine before he answered. "It wasn't just the Devry family. As I was returning, the vicar of Mecq stopped me and said that we needed to talk. We talked."
"Then you have made an impression on him also," Carillia said.
"Also?"
"Come upstairs and we can talk." Carillia linked her arm in Silvas's. "I have the most interesting things to tell you."
"You intrigue me, my love, but then, you always do." Silvas took another long drink of his wine. Then he handed the goblet to Koshka and went with Carillia.
"Now, what interesting things do you have?" Silvas asked when they reached the small sitting room next to their bedchamber.
Carillia smiled broadly. "Sit down. I'll get you more wine. You have had a most trying evening, my heart."
Silvas sat on the couch and settled himself into the cushions, prepared to let Carillia go through her game, whatever it was. She brought him the wine, a sweet red this time, and settled herself at his side.