"The Chald— oh, no."
"What's the problem?" asked Alyssa. "We scheduled them."
"We did. The same professor has delivered them every other year for the past ten years. Unfortunately, that professor is Lady Catherine."
"Oh." Alyssa retreated behind her teacup.
Keven looked puzzled. "Is there a problem?"
"I'm afraid so. Lady Catherine died this morning."
Light dawned in his eyes. "So that's why Lord Robert had me ask! It seemed an odd question."
"No doubt." Sarras activated the desk sculpture and directed it to link to the Registrar.
Its blank face opened sea-green eyes that crinkled around the edges. "Good morning, Sarras," said new, thin lips. "I take it Keven reached you?"
"That he did. So you know too."
"Sure do." Robert was a Colonial by birth, a native of the Blue Ridge Mountains who had crossed the Atlantic to attend university and had stayed. He was also another of the College's small coterie of Guardians. "Told Melisande yet?"
Sarras sat back in her chair. "You're sure she's the one?"
"More sure than I know anyone else is, at least. Hers are the only face and name that came to my mind. Granted, it was kind of muddy, compared with the crystalline clarity that hit me the day I found out about Edward, but then I've only been around through two transitions so far. It's not like we publish a handbook for this sort of thing."
Hmm. "Safeguarding the Most Dangerous Objects on Earth," she thought, "... for Imbeciles."
"Back to the question," said Robert's voice from the sculpture. "Are we still offering the history of Chaldean magic this year?"
"I'll have to get back to you on that."
"Thanks, I'd appreciate it. The sooner the better—I know we'll get asked. Cheerio," he said in a mock-Albion accent. The eyes closed and, together with the mouth, vanished into the smooth jade surface.
Keven cleared his throat. "I gather this was not expected."
"It most certainly wasn't." Sarras closed her own eyes and massaged her temples. "Foul play, I'm afraid; the guardsmen are working on it now. And Lady Catherine had a full course load; I'll be talking to Lord Robert about more than the Chaldeans before too long."
"I see. And since I'll be asked this also, what shall we tell the news-speaker reporters when they come inquiring?"
Sarras groaned. "I hadn't thought about them."
Alyssa reached across the desk, took Sarras's cup and saucer, and poured more tea. Unfortunately, however, there were problems a cup of tea could not solve.
* * * *
Lord Robert was the Guardian of the Key of Solomon. An ornate bronze disc covered in Hebrew calligraphy, the Key could open any lock. The College library contained stories concerning the kinds of things—and living entities, few of them human—King Solomon had locked away using it. Now Robert touched the Key to the briefcase fastenings, which obediently sprang open.
Sarras opened the case, which was lined with black silk and filled to the brim with scholastic paraphernalia—blue books, papers, a pencil case, books—nothing one would not find in an average classroom. She moved all of the contents to the table and pried at the bottom of the case with her fingernails. The bottom came away to expose a shallow compartment, containing—
"A book?" Alyssa said in surprise.
Sarras lifted the volume, a journal bound in ivory-colored leather. Opening the journal showed that the endpapers were not paper at all, but patterned silk. She picked at the rear endpaper, which came away with only moderate difficulty to reveal another hidden, silk-lined compartment containing a square of finished, dark wood four inches on a side. Each edge was an eighth of an inch thick, but the thickness increased toward the center of the square, where a circular pattern stood in relief. This would fit within the rim of Sarras's own Treasure—the silver Kiddush cup known throughout the world as the Grail—where the Paten, as a companion piece, had been crafted to rest when used.
"Praise be to God," Sarras said softly, "they're safe."
"They?" Robert asked, sea-green eyes widening.
Sarras nodded. "The Paten and the journal."
"What's so important about the journal?" Alyssa asked.
"The Paten passes differently from the other Treasures," Sarras explained. "It passes along the bloodline, so the new Guardian will be one of Lady Catherine's female descendants. The journal should include a list of who they are."
"What about where they are?" asked Robert.
"My Order keeps parish records, and its nuns are best suited to take custody of the Paten until the new Guardian is found." Sarras shoved Lady Catherine's papers across the table. "I'm sorry, Alyssa, but you're in charge of the department for the next few days. I'm going on retreat to the Motherhouse in Northumberland."
Robert said quietly, "So while Craig and his officers have their 'inquisition for blood' to pursue, it appears we have our own. Please let me know if I can help. In fact, might I see the most recent entries in the journal?"
She agreed, and Robert sat down at the worktable as Craig knocked perfunctorily on the door and entered the room. "Good evening, my lord, my ladies," he said. "Two items of news: First, we have the cause of death for Lady Catherine. Second, while Belinda, the student who found the body, still can't be questioned, her roommate has returned to campus. I'm going to talk to her; would you care to come?"
* * * *
Leaving Alyssa and Robert to deal with the office and the journal, Sarras accompanied Craig to the girls' dormitory. While she appreciated his willingness to include her in his investigation, she knew his invitation was not entirely due to generosity; he would not have been allowed to enter the dormitory's upper floors without a suitable female to chaperone any girl he wished to question. Sarras had her own reason as well—she wanted to see Belinda's room.
Emily, Belinda's roommate, was unpacking a sea bag when they knocked on the door. Her skin had a hint of sunburn and her hair had obviously been braided in a semi-successful attempt to keep it tamed, but the part that curled around her face revealed that she had been in a damp climate quite recently, probably earlier that day.
"In the infirmary?" she said when told where her roommate was. "What happened?"
"Unfortunately," Guardsman Craig said, "we don't really know. Do you know if Belinda has any magical Talent?"
Emily sighed and shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "She might—psychokinesis runs in the family—" Dirty clothes floated through the air and dropped into a laundry hamper. "—but I've roomed with her for two years and never seen her use any." She shrugged. "Grandfather sent her here after her mother died, and I know he blames Belinda for her mother's death. But Aunt Kate wasn't from a sailing family, and even people who are sailors get hit by the boom sometimes."
"The boom?" Craig sounded baffled.
"It's like a mast, only horizontal," Emily explained. "It holds the bottom of a sail, bracing it against the wind. When either the wind or the ship changes direction, the sail—and the boom—swing from one side of the ship to the other, passing across the deck. Sometimes this happens suddenly and someone's in the way. Aunt Kate got hit in the head and knocked overboard. She drowned before anyone could retrieve her."
"Why would your grandfather blame Belinda?" Sarras asked.
Emily shrugged again. "I wasn't there. He sent me to school ashore as soon as he found out I had a magical Talent. He hates magic. Apparently Belinda was fighting with her mother, one of those teenage 'I hate you!' things, right before the accident, and he insists that the wind wasn't changing direction at the time."
"So he thought your cousin used magic to move the boom?" Craig asked. "Is that possible?"
"In theory, yes," Emily said, "but in practice it would take an enormous amount of power. The wind pushing on the sail is what moves the ship, so that's how much power you're talking about."
"Thank you," Craig said. "We'll leave you to finish unpacking."
"Can I visit Belinda?" Emily asked.
"Not yet," Craig replied. "We'll let you know when she can have visitors." They left quickly before Emily had a chance to ask any more questions.
Once they were outside, he turned to Sarras. "If the girl did kill her mother, would it burn out her Talent? I heard one of your students lost his abilities for several years."
Sarras regarded him soberly. "You haven't told me yet how Lady Catherine died."
"Blunt force trauma. Something picked her up and slammed her into the wall so hard her skull fractured, as did most of her ribs. She also had a compound fracture of the upper arm, which is where most of the blood came from." He frowned. "My officers have been questioning the students in that class and putting together a timeline, and it seems certain that Belinda and Lady Catherine were alone together in the classroom from the time the last few students left, in a group, until Belinda ran out screaming that Lady Catherine was dead."
"You're saying Belinda killed her."
"Yes. I just don't know how, especially if she doesn't have magic."
"It sounds," Sarras said sadly, "as though she does."
* * * *
The next day saw both the delivery of the new distance mirror and Belinda's return to consciousness. That evening Sarras left Alyssa to finish setting up the mirror, while she packed the Grail into a portable shield box and went with Craig to question Belinda.
"Do you think this is wise?" asked the nurse anxiously. "She seems quite fragile. In fact, she hasn't stopped crying since she woke up."
Craig sighed. "I'll be as gentle as I can, but there are things I need to ask her. She was the only one in the room when her professor died."
"It may be easier for her to talk," said Sarras, "if I ask the questions."
Craig nodded. They proceeded down the hallway to the sickroom. Beds lined the walls of the long room, most of them empty. At this hour the only light came from table lamps here and there. The nurse led the visitors to a bed near the end and lit the lamp.
The girl in the bed did indeed appear sunken in despair. She lay on her side, curled into a ball, and seemed disinclined to acknowledge anyone else.
Sarras knelt beside the bed. "Belinda," she said, "will you talk to us?"
The voice was so muffled they could barely hear it. "... how could she do this, now she's dead and I don't know what's going on and I'm alone again, I'm alone, alone, and I thought she would talk but she looked at me like she didn't know me, then she died and left me..."
Repeated attempts produced no different response from the girl, who alternated between speech and ragged sobs. Sarras sighed, brought out the shield box, opened it, and set the Grail on the table beside the lamp.
The effect was immediate. The Grail radiated an atmosphere of calm, of health, of conflicts reconciled, of chaos put in order—every aspect of shalom. Belinda fell silent, and her muscles eased under the bedclothes. Her features, crumpled in pain, relaxed. After a moment her eyes opened. "I still don't understand," she said. "Can you tell me?"
"Tell you what, dear?" Sarras said gently.
"Why she died. Why she said those wonderful things and then acted like she didn't know me. Why she went away."
Craig evidently wasn't expecting this. Sarras shot him a "be patient" look and asked, "What things did she say?"
"She said my essays showed promise, that I understood the elements of magic theory clearly. She disagreed with some of the things I wrote, but she told me why, and how I could test my ideas and look for better ones. She liked my ideas." Hearing the clarity of the girl's voice now, one could easily forget her earlier raving.
"Then, what happened?" Sarras asked.
"After the lecture I went up to her to say thank you, to tell her how much she encouraged me, but before I could say much she asked me how I spelled my name." Her lip trembled. "She'd read my papers—how would she not know who I was? That's when I knew it was all a lie. She hadn't really wanted to talk to me at all..."
The girl fell silent for a moment. Then: "I felt so alone, so stupid, such a fool... so humiliated... and she flew backward across the room and hit the wall and fell to the floor... and I ran. Ran and ran and ran and ran..."
Sarras glanced at Craig, who nodded in understanding. "Thank you, Belinda. We need to go now, but we'll talk again later. I can tell you that Lady Catherine didn't mean to hurt you. In fact, she was one of the most generous people I ever knew. That's one reason she wanted to be a teacher." And why she was Chosen to safeguard a Treasure that provides food—of all kinds, including knowledge—for the hungry.
"Those things you read—she didn't write them. The lecture had so many people in it that she had to use graders to make sure everyone received proper attention. Clearly you impressed the grader, whoever he or she was, and what was written was doubtless true. But that's why Lady Catherine didn't know you. It's not because she was trying to make a fool of you. It's because she's not the one who wrote those things."
Belinda nodded. "Thank you, my lady. It makes more sense now."
No doubt it does, child. But I don't know what we're going to do with you and your particular talent.... Sarras placed the Grail back in its box, and closed the lid. Belinda's face again contorted and she began to weep.
As they left the infirmary, Craig said, "Neatly done, my lady. So: murder or manslaughter?"
"It's hard to pin down," Sarras replied. "I believe we're dealing with a powerful Talent that only emerges during extreme stress. I suspect her grandfather is right and she did cause her mother's death, although we may never be able to prove it. And here was another woman, one with her mother's name, who she felt betrayed her..."
She shrugged. "'Guilty but insane'? Intent to do harm, perhaps, but whether or not she knew she could kill, let alone intended to... I have to leave all that to your people."
She smiled at him. "I'm just a lowly wizard. The law, now—that's complicated."
* * * *
She returned to her office to find Robert had relocated there. "Hope you don't mind—I thought you'd want the journal kept here," he said. "It paid off, though."
He opened Lady Catherine's journal to a marked page and showed her and Alyssa the last entry: Jocelyn, born Durham parish.... The date was given, along with the name of Jocelyn's father.
"Here Lady Catherine's record ends... one generation behind. Through University records, however, I know Jocelyn has a daughter here. Melisande."
* * * *
Alyssa was still sharing Sarras's office several days later when the door opened and Melisande entered, saying, "...and I'm sorry I blew up like that."
The remainder of Melisande's voyage had been uneventful, if not exactly smooth. Sarras met her at the harbor, after placing the Paten in the chapel of the Sisters of St. Anne for safekeeping. It would be properly tended and—since there were always at least two nuns praying in the chapel—continuously monitored.
The Master Schedule still hung over the department like the Sword of Damocles, but now it was almost complete. Substitute faculty had been found for most of Lady Catherine's courses.
As for the advanced Hebrew course...
Melisande hung her late-autumn outdoor robe on a wall peg. "I guess, if I've truly been Chosen, Stephen and I will learn to cope- Good Lord, what is that?"
Sarras laughed. "'That' is a scrying mirror designed for group use. We have students here taking a course that's being taught in Jerusalem."
Melisande stared. "It's so big. How did the department afford it?"
"It was a gift," said Sarras, "from a Guardian angel." Alyssa winced.
Melisande's attention was focused on her reflection. "I'm so fat! As sick as I was during the voyage, I thought I'd lost weight!"
"You're not fat," Sarras said. It was an automatic response; she'd heard that particular, and usually unfounded, complaint from more young women than she could count.
Alyssa looked carefully at Melisande. "She's right—you're not fat."
By now Melisande was studying her reflection as if
she'd never seen it before. "No," she said softly, her hands moving to cradle her stomach. "I'm not fat. I'm pregnant."
"That's what's been confusing us!" Alyssa exclaimed. "You're not the new Guardian; your daughter is—or will be."
Melisande gazed at her reflected image with wonder and more than a touch of awe. "Are you sure it's a girl?"
"Oh yes," Sarras replied, her smile growing. "A very special girl."
Fire and Fate
Deborah J. Ross
"Fire and Fate" began as an extended story line that includes "Rite of Vengeance" in SWORD & SORCERESS 5 (1988) and "Crooked Corn" in SPELLS OF WONDER (also known as SWORD & SORCERESS 5.5, 1989). Deborah says that the linked episodes never quite worked as a novel, so she's pleased to "file the serial numbers off" and present this one as independent as its heroine.
Deborah Ross has been writing professionally since 1982, when Marion bought her story "Imperatrix" for the first SWORD & SORCERESS anthology. Since then, Deborah has sold two science fiction novels (under her former name, Deborah Wheeler) and short fiction to the magazines Asimov's, F&SF, and Realms of Fantasy, as well as to many anthologies. In 1999, she began work with Marion on her Darkover series, and has continued it to this day, the latest book being HASTUR LORD (DAW, 2010), a tale of Regis Hastur. Following Marion's example, she became an editor, with two volumes of LACE AND BLADE, elegant romantic fantasy, from Norilana Books, and a third one coming out next Valentine's Day.
She lives in a redwood forest with her husband, also a writer, and has two grown daughters, Marion's honorary grandchildren. In her younger years, she practiced kung fu, but now she studies yoga to put her body back together. She's a member of Book View Café and SFWA (Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America).
The Duke of Westfields once allied himself with a wizard for protection against the northern raiders. The wizard received his fee, repelled the invaders, and departed for the mountains beyond the eastern borders. Ten years later, the Duke's health was failing. Regretting his debt and fearing the wizard's lingering influence, he hired a Quallin-trained swordswoman to put an end to the danger and insisted she take along one of his young officers as witness to the deed.
Marion Zimmer Bradley's Sword and Sorceress XXV Page 6