"Yes."
Glorian turned and faced Dore. "If you accept, Herodes' expert ministers will disguise you so that the queen herself won't recognize you. I've been here often, and I've seen many a duplicate Herodes in these halls. In the morning no one will say a word, but the king will beam at you as if you were a long-lost son. You'll be expected to thank him and tell him how good it was. That will make him happy. If you refuse, he will be humiliated before his subjects, even though they will never learn of the thing. But he will know. And the only way he can save his honor is to kill you."
"Have you ever been up there?" asked Dore with a wry expression. Glorian did not answer. "Well," said Dore, "let's go."
"To find the king?"
"No. Back to the forest."
Glorian put his hand roughly on Dore's shoulder. "No," he said, "this time you're going to stay and see this through. Do not think that your path here is predestined, and that you cannot follow a worthy course. You have not even thought on the matter, and already you wish to flee to the unthreatening woods. You have passed beyond them, although you refuse to admit it. Your initial tests were physical, of danger to life and limb. You had no problem with monsters, human and otherwise. Then you contended with intellectual hazards. Now, finally, you are fronted with questions of virtue, to prove your spiritual mettle. If you run to your forests you forfeit all you've gained, and no second chance. Sun and rain and greenery are wonderful, but a man's life is sadly none of these things. There are more strains of courage than merely facing a sword."
Dore was confused for a moment and made no reply. At last he said, "And if I don't accept? If the king's subtle ministers prepare another in my place?"
"Excellent!" said Glorian, slapping Dore's mighty back. "And I know the very man. A member of the king's Praetorian, Belodicos by name."
"Is this man trustworthy?"
"Eminently," said Glorian. "I saved his life once."
"How fortunate," said Dore. "Let us send for him at once." In a short time Belodicos the guard appeared before Dore, and the situation was explained to him. He, too, was hesitant to accept the duty, but his debt to Glorian persuaded him. He would visit the offices of Treneos and Meronidas after the dinner hour and be transformed into an image of King Herodes. Then, after dark, he would enter the royal bedchamber and join the queen, careful to awaken and depart before the first light of morning. Belodicos agreed doubtfully and left Dore and Glorian alone in the trophy room.
The two men were unaware that their conversation had been overheard by Neliastra, a young servant girl engaged in polishing the armor, who had hidden herself behind an arras when Dore, Glorian, and Herodes had entered the hall. She hurried straight to Queen Corylis and told of the plans of the king, Dore, and Belodicos.
"I admire the virtue of the man Dore," said the queen, "and I sympathize with the plight of the honest Belodicos. But, lo, these many years, how I have grown to hate the stink of spirit gum and grease paint! And simple Herodes believes that he has fooled me every time. How like a courtesan I feel, to be displayed to all who visit, and bestowed as a gift, like some golden cup or matched stainless flatware. I must end this charade."
Neliastra spoke up diffidently. "Great Queen," she said, "I do not wish to advise one exalted above my low degree, but hearken to my scheme. The tool of the strangers' plan, Belodicos of the youthful heart, has been my true beloved, though circumstance has forced our paths asunder. I, a servant to your grace, and he, a stalwart of our lord's defense, now rarely meet to share love's joy. Allow me, your faithful bondmaid, to visit those same councilors and have myself made new in your image. Then myself, a grateful hollow queen, and he, king but of my soul, will meet one night for moments of luxury. All innocent, we; and thou shalt have thy joke."
"Delightful!" said the queen, and ordered preparations to be made.
"Look, Seyt —" says Sabt, Ateichál's press representative. Before he can finish, Lalichë shows him to a chair and gives him a large illustrated book to read while I continue my work. Lalichë is becoming indispensable. If she were only a few years older, I'd ply her with candy. My story is simple enough and moving well toward its foreseeable climax, so I will grant Sabt his audience.
"Audience?" he says with distaste. "You're lucky that Ateichál instructed me to meet with you. She's being very careful to point out your frequent inaccuracies, you know; you should be glad that she worries so over your puny soul." I could ask Sabt what Ateichál considers to be the value of a soul without eternal life or any kind of Deific Judgment. But, no doubt, the system of their dogma provides them with answers.
"What can I do for you, my brother?" I ask politely.
"Ateichál requests that you refrain from repeating the vile heresies of our kin; even for purposes of instruction the mere voicing of these beliefs is injurious to the human and therefore assailable maintenance of truth." Sometimes Sabt sounds like a pamphlet of an uplifting nature.
"Whom do you feel to be the most dangerous enemies of your faith?" I ask craftily.
"There are several whose variant ideas may lead to the corruption of straight thinking. For instance, Chel speaks of the identity of Dore's two missions. The very elevation of Dore's quest for Riverlore to an equality with his reunion with Our Father is bold heresy. But Chel takes the Terian error further. He equates the three offices of the River—Water, Channel, and ineffable Current—with the three members of our pantheon. Our Father, he claims, is the fleshly manifestation of the River's sacred and life-giving fluid. When it is given direction, as Our Father's essence was through the agency of Our Mother, the result is a Current, a force, in our experience it is Dore, who proceeds from Our Father and is made appreciable to us by Our Mother. While Ateichál applauds the sense of copartnership and is amused by the neatness of the analogy, she has seen fit to induce Chel to retract his speculations. Chel may be consulted on the matter in the backyard pen any day before five."
"That is very interesting," I say, "but even I can see the impertinence in his suppositions."
"Really?" says Sabt hopefully. "You're coming along, Seyt. We are also dead set against Dalonelle's argument that in Dore the participation of Our Father's will replaced the human element we all share. Dore may be as holy and godlike as Our Parents, but he was also, as you have endeavored to make clear, a functioning and normal man." Sabt allows me a smile, as reward for my spiritual progress.
"I have tried to show that," I say modestly. "What exactly is Tere's position these days?"
Sabt scowls. "Tere is the arch-heresiac. He is beyond redemption and, thus, beyond the power of Ateichál's cleansing service. In demanding the good favor of Dore, he demands that Dore's humanity be dominant over his godhead, a concept unique in its absurdity. He suggests that Dore's identity with Our Parents goes no further than a 'willing accord' with their designs. There is nothing salvageable from his apostasy, and no castigation could be equal to his effrontery."
"Thank you, Sabt," I say, chuckling, "for listing so carefully the solecisms Ateichál wants avoided." Sabt looks horrified, nods, and runs out.
"Perhaps if you get them at each other's throats," says Lalichë, "they'll leave you alone."
Late that night Dore and Glorian conceived a great hunger, and resolved to creep downstairs and find themselves a midnight meal. They followed the tortuous passageways of the palace and at last came upon the back stairway, which Glorian knew was situated near the largest of the king's kitchens. In a short while they were in the pantry, and had made for themselves a fine snack of leftover meat pies and warm beer. As they sat eating they heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. The two men hid, for fear they would be discovered and reported by a guardsman, and thus Dore's ruse would be revealed.
"I wonder who left these lights burning," said a voice. "I'll have the heads of those scullery maids yet."
"Quiet," said Glorian softly, "it's King Herodes himself, no doubt tired of his hiding and seeking refreshment."
"It figures," said
Dore fearfully.
"Aha!" said the king angrily. "Someone's been stealing himself a meal at my expense. Here are the remains of a hastily enjoyed supper. The thief didn't even have the consideration to clean up after himself. Hmmm, I wonder . . ."
The king pulled back the hanging behind which Dore and Glorian had concealed themselves. "You!" said the king. "Are you not with my queen? Have you then so mischievously rejected my gifts?"
"No, my lord," said the Queen Corylis, stepping out from behind another hanging. "He is not sharing my favors. And, for that reason, I believe he has acted with honor. I fear that is more than you have done. Only out of love and obedience to you have I bedded with your heroes, each of whom I have detested and resented for having stolen my time with you. Perhaps you have acted out of love and husbandly pride, but even a king may act foolishly, though no one may tell him so. Do not tax this man's friendship, for we owe him much."
"You are right, my wife," said Herodes ashamedly. "I will never do it again. I wish to reward the friend of Glorian. What boon is most seemly to you?"
"Perhaps we could endow a seat at the University," said Corylis. "He could lecture to our citizens on morality and the splendid virtues."
"I thank you, your majesties," said Dore humbly, "but I trust you will understand when I say that I am anxious to continue my quest. Indeed, I hope to leave with your blessings in the morning."
The rulers of Monthurst were disappointed, but promised to aid him in whatever way they could. "Materially, you understand, we're a bit strapped," said King Herodes with embarrassment. "But we can provide you with good advice, warm feelings, and magical contrivances to speed you on your way."
"Anything you can spare would be welcome," said Dore.
"Well, then, my reluctant lover," said Queen Corylis with a smile, "you seem to be one who questions his goals. You have come far and through many strange adventures, and now you begin to wonder if the outcome will justify it all. Perhaps you think that those who sent you on this quest were hasty and ill-advised. Perhaps you think the pot of gold at the end of your trials is nothing more than a phantasm to lure you to your doom. But look at it this way: You've come all this distance; it would be a shame to turn back now."
"My wife is right. Go on and seek your fortune. If you went home you'd regret it for the rest of your life. Ah, you young people. I wish I could join you."
The queen clapped her hands, and an attendant appeared and was instructed to fetch a certain parchment. Dore marveled at the discipline of the servants, as it was well after midnight. After a brief pause the attendant returned with the ancient manuscript.
"Carry this with you at all times," said Corylis. "It will guard you against night blindness, injuries of the arches and feet, ecstasies connected with bad food, and perhaps against discomforts due to the common cold." Dore bowed and tucked the amulet inside his girdle. "I understand you seek the domain of Baron von Glech," said the queen. "Glorian knows the way, I'm sure, but still I feel it my duty to warn you of the cave of Love. There are many dangers there, some so voluptuous as to make the teeth rot in your mouth just thinking of them. But other evils there are which are fatal in hidden ways. It is best to give that treacherous place your back and pass well away from its sensuous invitations."
"I'll bet Dore doesn't," says Lalichë.
"There is only one matter that I don't comprehend," said King Herodes. "Who is it that entered the queen's chamber this evening?"
"So you do spy!" said Corylis with amusement. "Your actions have not been so charitable after all. The Voyeur King, what a surpassingly fine title for an operetta."
"We shall discuss that later," said Herodes angrily. "I desire to have my question answered." The four people climbed the stairs to the royal boudoir, and on the way Glorian and Corylis explained their schemes. Everyone had a good laugh at the baroque turn of events. At the door to the chamber the king himself dismissed the confused guards, who of course believed their liege to be inside, sound asleep. Glorian, Dore, Herodes, and Corylis peeked into the bedroom and saw Belodicos, disguised as the king, and Neliastra, playing the queen, asleep in each other's arms. "Oh!" whispered the four fondly as they quietly shut the door again.
"My man Belodicos will have a strange awakening in the morning," said Herodes, shaking his head.
"Oh, I don't know," said Corylis. "I'm sure he's recognized his sweetheart by now. We ought to do something for them, too. They've been star-crossed enough."
"Shall I give them half my kingdom?" asked Herodes generously.
"No, I think not, my lord," said the queen. "Well talk about it another time." And the two rulers and Glorian and Dore sought their beds for a shortened night's rest. In the morning everyone waved goodby, and our brother and his companion set out once more for whatever reasons Dore had.
"'Whatever reasons.' A clever evasion," says Lalichë. "Without a weathercock army in this house it's difficult to decide if Tere or Ateichál deserves the commitment. Do you think they really love each other?"
"It's not the tides," I say distractedly, as I notice that Tere has been reading over my shoulder for some time.
"Hello, Seyt," he says, smiling, holding out his political hand. Despite all the handshaking he's been doing it's still fat and it's still wet.
"Hello, Tere. How's it going?"
"We have them on the run now. Orthodoxy versus orthopraxy. We have right on our side; Ateichál ought to realize that even in a trivial way our case is the stronger: We have twice the god to rely on that she has. And her point is that she can't rely on him. Small comfort for the simple man, eh? Like you and me. Our sister is growing too big for her alb. I take it from your writings that you don't approve of her methods. Her inquisition lacks restraint and taste. Would you care to see a list of her intended defendants?"
I admit that I would. Tere insists that I not reveal the source of his information. I promise. The list reads: "Loml, Sabt (?), Joilliena, Nesp, Aniatrese, Talavesía, Jelt, Thib, Lalichë (?), Seyt (!)."
"She doesn't plan to rule a large congregation, does she? There won't be many left when she's through," I say, my eye continuously straying to the (!) after my name. Lalichë has run out of the room, crying.
"Don't worry, Seyt," says Tere, pressing my thigh so that I will be reassured. "We, the Fraternal Party, were formed for the express purpose of stopping this nonsense. Help us, Seyt. I don't mean by joining the party and raising funds. But a lot of the younger brothers and sisters still follow this fairy tale of yours. You and they can aid us. And perhaps those on this list won't have to turn in their names for numbers, after all. Why don't you think it over, Seyt? Come see me in the morning and we'll talk about it." Tere grins and leaves. The floppy silk crown that he wears makes me sick.
Chapter Ten
The Final Struggle
On the way back from breakfast this morning I saw a large gathering of people by the bulletin board. Usually the notices on the board are trivial and totally unexciting: bookcases for sale; invitations to join the River's Ally, a service organization that picks up papers around the yard; sometimes a lost and found notice. No one ever reads the bulletins except the people who put them up. We have a lot of Harvest Moon Balls and Ring Dances that go totally unattended. But today there were two announcements worth reading.
The first statement was written with a felt-tip pen on a large rectangle of purple construction paper. It seemed to me to be Ateichál's acknowledgment of the waning of her influence, demonstrating to us all the indomitable nature of (our) human spirit, in the face of her terrorist tactics. The notice said, "Our brother Tere has made certain accusations concerning my investigation into corrupt devotional practices. These accusations were made with the intent to discredit me and my associates, and to support his own malicious doctrine. It is well-known that Tere was in full accord with the measures which I felt necessary; after his desertion of the Benevolent Party he adopted those same measures for his own uses. A list of potential violators of orthodox thought
has been circulated, purporting to belong to me. I deny this vile calumny, and further declare my belief that the list of future martyrs was drawn up by the Fraternal Party, possibly by Tere himself. Yours in Dore, Ateichál."
When I finished reading the notice I shook my head. Shesarine turned to me and laughed. "Intrigue," she said. "Busy little wheels."
"See that you don't get caught up in them," I said, and we both laughed again.
Our brother Stug, a classicist and a recluse, quoted us a line: "'One man has one sort of ill, someone else has another, and surely no one under the Sun is happy in the truest meaning of the word.' Theognis. It will be most difficult to avoid those wheels, Seyt. Have you read the other yet? We enter a new era, and trade Scylla for Charybdis."
Shesarine and I turned back to the bulletin board and read the other announcement. This one was elegantly done in a flowing hand on a white card. It said simply, "Tere, the chairman of the Fraternal Party, Guardian of the Faith and Scourer of Heretics, proclaims through his seigniory as Eldest Son his accession to the office of first Kalp of Home. All are requested to acknowledge the authority of the Kalp in matters domestic and foreign, spiritual and temporal. Long live Kalp Tere, successor to Dore." Beneath this was added in pencil, "Reception at eleven, in the Map Room. Refreshments and prizes."
"What's a Kalp?" asked Shesarine.
"I'm not sure," I said. "Let's go to the Map Room now and see if anyone else is there."
The Map Room is at the end of the main corridor in the North Wing. It is a very comfortable room with thick carpeting and richly stained panels, designed to produce a mood of confidence and ease. Tere had chosen well. The tables had been pushed against the walls and folding chairs had been set up. One large table had been placed at one end of the room, and Tere sat there when we came in. Many of the chairs were already occupied when we entered; when Tere saw me he came over to speak with us.
"Ah, Seyt!" he said, beaming. "You've seen the proclamation, eh? What do you think, lad? You'll be glad to shake this moist old hand now, eh?"
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