C. Dale Brittain_Wizard of Yurt 04

by The Witch;the Cathedral

  IV

  Christ, this was bad. I had thought my self-esteem had suffered so many blows over the years that I was fairly immune, but I had been mistaken. I had never loved the queen as much as I loved this woman.

  "Theodora, I—" I tried to find some way to phrase it delicately so it would not be an insult, and ended up not finding any and saying it baldly. "So you made me fall in love with you deliberately, not interested in me at all, only—only using me the way the nixie wanted to use us!"

  "Daimbert, it wasn't like that," she said mildly.

  But now that I had started I couldn't stop. "Once you had what you wanted, you didn't need me and didn't care to see me again." I had jumped up and was pacing back and forth while she sat quietly, listening. "You managed to hide from me with your damned ring of invisibility, and when I left the city you were delighted, hoping I wouldn't come back. If you hadn't opened the door for your cat without taking the precaution of peeking out first, I never would have found you."

  "I'd always hoped to see you again."

  But I wasn't going to be interrupted. "Of course you didn't tell me, then, that you didn't love me. You had to be sure you were pregnant first, because if you weren't you needed to lure me back for one more try."

  I threw myself on the grass, my back to her. In a moment I felt a hand stroking my hair. As she'd stroke her cat, I thought bitterly.

  "Daimbert, I do love you."

  "Odd that you never mentioned it before," I said, but less bitterly.

  There was a catch in her voice that, in a moment, made me sit up and turn around to look at her. Her cheeks streamed with tears. To my questioning look she said at last, "I feel so bad to have hurt you!"

  I turned away again. This wasn't helping. The women I loved could never love me. All I could do was to make them cry when they realized how deeply I was wounded.

  There was another long pause, then she began tugging at my shoulders. I allowed her to pull my head into her lap, where she continued stroking my hair, but I kept my eyes shut against her.

  "Let me tell you how it appeared from my side," she said at last, her voice somewhat calmer. "I wanted to meet you from the first time I sensed your mind here in the city. And before you say anything, let me make clear that I was not planning from the beginning to seduce you. I just wanted to get to know a wizard."

  "You were already friends with the old magician, and if you'd wanted you could have met the royal wizard of Caelrhon any time before his death."

  "I told you, Daimbert, you aren't like other wizards. Old Sengrim would have had nothing to offer me—if he'd even cared to get to know me. I knew at once that you were the only one I'd ever come across who might be at all interested in teaching a witch his magic."

  "Magic first, children second," I mumbled.

  "And once I met you," she persisted, "I realized that I could gain from you far more than I'd hoped. And not what you're about to say! What I gained from you was friendship."

  "Friendship," I repeated. It seemed a weak enough word.

  "You're the only person I've been able to talk to about magic since my mother died. You were even interested in learning my magic, which I won't teach anyone again until our daughter is old enough to understand. And you're funny, and affectionate, and enthusiastic, and treated my ideas with interest and respect. Is it any wonder I fell in love with you?"

  "Odd you never mentioned it before," I said for the second time.

  "That's because I was hoping you weren't in love with me," she answered. "I knew you were Royal Wizard of Yurt, and I knew wizards don't marry. If I made it clear how strongly I felt about you, you would feel compelled to resign your position, and I also knew the conflict would destroy you emotionally."

  "As opposed to feeling like this," I said with intentional sarcasm. But I did open one eye for a quick glance at her face. She wasn't crying any more but looked down at me affectionately. I closed the eye again.

  "Your stay here, I knew," she continued, "would not last long. You'd been Royal Wizard for years, but you'd only known me a short time. Before many more weeks had passed, I realized, you'd solve the cathedral's problems and go home to Yurt. I'd always hoped to have a daughter, and I knew I couldn't find anyone better to be the father."

  "Then having gotten what you wanted from me, why did you hide?"

  "Because you asked me to marry you."

  "And you certainly didn't want to do that!"

  "No," she said, very quietly, "because I did. If you had asked me again I probably would have agreed."

  "And would you agree now?" I asked, sitting up and compelling her eyes to meet mine.

  But she shook her head. "I've had a month to strengthen my resolve. Please forgive me."

  I could manage no better answer than a snort.

  "I'd hoped you'd forget me. Well, no, not hoped. I always wanted to see you again, and I certainly had to tell you about our daughter. But when you left the city so abruptly, I anticipated that by the time you came back and went home to Yurt you would be ready to put the whole interlude behind you. I did hope that you would at least think of me warmly sometimes."

  "But I already told you I resigned as Royal Wizard!"

  "And had your resignation refused. I saw you sitting with your royal court this morning."

  She had me there. "Then I'll just resign again."

  But she could be as stubborn as I. "No. Now listen to me. I've had plenty of time to think about this. You've been involved in wizardry your entire adult life. It's as much a part of you as your bones and skin. You're also a very good wizard, and you're respected at the school. You couldn't give up magic, and you also could not be satisfied doing odd tricks at fairs. I know you. I've heard you make disparaging remarks about magicians having to make their livings from pathetic scraps of magic, spells done for no better purpose than the entertainment of the ignorant. You'd do your best to hide it from me, because you are very affectionate, but there would always be a gap in your life."

  It would have been easier to argue with her if she hadn't been right. "But there will always be a gap without you!"

  She ignored the interruption and pushed on. "And I thought about myself. I've lived on my own for ten years and come to value my privacy. It's been a good ten years. I have my embroidery and my magic and my climbing—though I won't be doing any of that for the next year or so—and soon will have our daughter."

  I thought glumly that it was a sign of how much she valued her privacy that we were having this conversation here in the grove, not in her house.

  "The cathedral probably won't give me any more needlework once they decide I'm a loose woman, but I'll still make a good living; I'll be able to live for months on what the priests paid me these last few weeks."

  "So you don't want anyone else disturbing your life."

  "That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying I wouldn't make a very satisfactory wife to a wandering magic worker. No matter how much I loved you, I'd miss my independence, and I'm afraid I'd take it out on you. No, I think I'm the kind of person who is much better for short visits than for a permanent stay."

  There didn't seem to be any way to answer this, even though I knew she was wrong. Theodora would be highly satisfactory for a permanent stay. But I considered for a moment what she'd just said. "Then you wouldn't mind if I visited you sometimes?"

  "I would want you to visit as often as you could. You realize, Daimbert, there wasn't anyone before you, and there won't be anyone after you."

  She smiled, for the first time in a long time. I seemed to have agreed to an arrangement that in fact I still refused to accept. But I was tired of arguing, and she had said, undeniably, that she loved me— "Is it all right if I kiss you?"

  The smile widened. "I'd been hoping you'd suggest that."

  The sun was low as I walked through the narrow city streets to the castle. I wondered vaguely if I was too late to get anything to eat.

  Paul met me in the courtyard. "There you are. We wondered where
you'd gone. You have a dinner invitation."

  "A dinner invitation." This didn't make any sense.

  "A priest came by from the episcopal palace an hour ago. The bishop wants you to dine with him."

  "The bishop?" I repeated stupidly.

  Paul laughed. "I thought you'd be flattered by the honor! There can't be many wizards asked to dine by bishops the very evening of their enthronements."

  I managed to pull myself together. "Oh. Yes. The bishop. This will a good time to warn him."

  All summer I had known that if Joachim became bishop our long evening conversations would be over for good. But now he was bishop, and he still seemed willing to talk to me. I should have been delighted but felt no emotion at all. Besides, it would all be different.

  "I've got something else to tell you," said Paul, somewhat sheepishly. "I know you didn't want me to ride Bonfire. But I did anyway. I can't believe Vincent meant him as a trap, and, besides, I couldn't help myself. Was there ever something you wanted to do so badly you didn't care about the consequences?"

  I nodded without speaking.

  "Bonfire really is as gentle as a kitten, and can he run! He's even faster than those horses in the borderlands."

  "All right, then, but be careful," I said inadequately. I hurried inside to scrub my face and to brush the bits of grass out of my hair and beard.

  As I walked toward the cathedral a few minutes later, I tried to recall all the concerns I had about a forthcoming attack from an evil wizard. I had feared no one in the Church would be willing to listen, but if Joachim had invited me to dinner he would certainly let me speak.

  A young and rather nervous acolyte met me at the palace door, but inside I was pleased to see Joachim's silent servant, apparently forgiven for his complicity in Norbert's plot. He nodded gravely and motioned me toward the study.

  "Uh, Your Holiness—" I began awkwardly, dipping my head and wondering if Joachim expected me to kneel.

  The bishop had been reading his Bible, but he immediately rose to greet me, taking both my arms in his strong grip. "I am glad you were willing to come," he said with a smile, a genuine smile such as I had not seen on his face very often. "I had been afraid you would refuse. You have been out all afternoon, I understand? You must be starving. Come into the dining room, and we can eat at once." He wore his ordinary black vestments again rather than the scarlet robes of this morning, although the ruby ring was still on his finger. He looked more comfortable and relaxed than I could remember seeing him for a long time. "And don't call me Your Holiness, Daimbert, unless you expect me to start calling you Your Wizardliness!"

  The candles were lit, and the bishop's servant brought the soup. I sat down in something of a fog, but as soon as we started to eat I realized that he was right; I was starving.

  "I want to thank you, and I want to apologize," said Joachim. "You removed the magical danger to the cathedral, at much greater personal risk than I had anticipated—although I should have known better. When I got your telephone message last week I drew a relaxed breath for the first time this summer."

  I had to warn him that the magical danger was not all gone, but he was still talking.

  "And all the time that you were marshalling your forces against the monster, I selfishly ignored you. I was so caught up in my own concerns, worrying about the bishop, worrying about whether I would be elected myself, that I paid no attention to you. But now the bishop is safely in Abraham's bosom, and I have been elected to succeed him, for good or ill. I think all the members of the cathedral chapter had a serious lapse of judgment, but, with the help of God I will at least not lead my flock into evil."

  "As you know," I said, "I'd always thought you'd be a good bishop. And, do you remember?" with a fair approximation of a smile. "I promised you two things if you were elected. I said that I'd go to the land of wild magic, and I've done so—or at least to the borderlands, which were wild enough for me. And I promised that I'd try to work with you, to find ways that wizards and priests could stop distrusting each other."

  This might be hard, I realized, since the first thing I was going to tell him was that there was an evil wizard loose in the twin kingdoms. But the servant came back before I could say anything more, to take away our soup bowls and serve the lamb and carrots.

  "Put the cheese and fruit on the side table," said Joachim, "along with the rest of the wine. We can serve ourselves."

  The servant closed the door behind him as he left. Joachim turned his enormous dark eyes on me. "Now I'd like you to tell me what's really bothering you."

  "I'm afraid a wizard I haven't been able to find is plotting some massive attack," I said. "It was he who called the gorgos, and I can't even imagine what he's planning next."

  Joachim had put down his fork and was watching my face.

  "I don't know where he is now. I came back from the borderlands as fast as I could because I was terrified he might try to attack the cathedral at your election the way he did at the old bishop's funeral. Nothing happened, and I can find no sign of wild magic in the city, but that may only mean he hasn't been able to get a new monster from the north—yet. And I doubt I'll be able to get any support from the wizards' school."

  The bishop nodded gravely, still watching me. "But you don't sound as though you anticipate a magical attack tonight."

  "No, or at least I hope not."

  "Good. Then you can tell me all about it a little later." He took a few bites, then looked at me again. "Right now you can tell me what's happened to you, you personally, these last few months. Because something has happened which has affected you even more profoundly than your fight with the monster."

  I forced myself to adopt a light tone. "What makes you think something out of the ordinary has happened to me, besides of course nearly being killed by a gorgos?"

  This was far too flimsy for him. "As I told you once before, I know you better than you think I do. You put me off then, but I can't bear to see you like this any longer. Something terrible has wrenched your soul, and if I'm supposed to guide the souls of this diocese I can't leave my oldest friend to suffer unaided."

  I tried not to meet his eyes. "You don't need to hear all this. Half of it you wouldn't understand, and the other half you'd just say I was receiving a sinner's just reward."

  "And are you?"

  I looked up in spite of myself. "Joachim, I don't even know anymore."

  "Then why not try to tell me?"

  I took another bite of lamb—it really was very good—then pushed my plate away. "This may take a while."

  "We have a while."

  I took a deep breath. "It starts back when I first came to Yurt. I've tried to tell you this several times, but you never seemed to understand. Until this summer, I've always been in love with the queen."

  V

  I knocked on Theodora's door just before dawn. "Theodora. It's me."

  She opened the door looking extremely charming in a white nightgown, her hair tousled and her cheek still bearing a crease from the pillow. "What is it?"

  "I've come to invite you to Prince Paul's coming of age ceremony."

  "But—" I gave her a good-morning kiss while she tried to object. "They won't want me there—they don't even know me. And Daimbert!" with an exasperated laugh. "What will the neighbors think if they see me standing here in my nightgown, kissing someone at this hour of the morning?"

  "Then I'll come inside," I said cheerfully, closing the door behind me. The cat rose from the hearth, stretching itself to twice its normal length and yawning widely. "I hope you realize the neighbors will start thinking all sorts of things in a few months anyway. But don't worry about the cathedral. They won't think of you as a loose woman, but more as a woman who has been sinned against, so you'll continue to get commissions from the priests."

  She rubbed her eyes and sat down, pulling a shawl across her shoulders. "What's happened to you? You look almost feverish. Did you even go to bed last night?"

  "No," sitting down besi
de her. "I've been talking to the bishop."

  "The bishop! You've been telling him about me—"

  I smiled at her concern. "I certainly told the bishop the most important details, such as that you are the most wonderful woman in the world, and I love you. I didn't tell him you're a witch—the Church has long experience in dealing with sin, but even Joachim has always had trouble with magic."

  "So you let the bishop condemn you as a sinner?"

  "Joachim thinks of everyone as a sinner, starting with himself. He's never held it against anyone."

  She started to look amused in spite of herself. I put my arm around her. "If it's any comfort," I said, "he thinks you're right, that I belong in Yurt and you here. Both of you are wrong, of course."

  "Then why do you seem so happy this morning?"

  "Maybe the Church has a point, that confession is good for the soul. But I think the real reason is my relief that I'll finally be able to find the renegade wizard; Joachim has a plan to draw him out of hiding."

  "What's his plan?"

  Looking into her intelligent amethyst eyes, I realized that Joachim had actually been quite vague about his precise intentions. Last night, after he had listened to my long, disjointed story about the queen and Theodora, once I finally told him my suspicions of a renegade, he had said with calm assurance that locating him would not be a problem. At that point, emotionally drained, I had been glad to believe whatever he told me.

  "It involves Paul's coming of age ceremony," I said, feeling light-headed. I knew I remembered the bishop saying that. Did the plan also involve Norbert? No, I was quite sure it didn't, although I had confessed my involvement in that to Joachim along with everything else. He had placidly refused to attribute any worse motives to the cathedral cantor than misplaced distrust of magic and a rather sad and petty jealousy, though he said he expected that the wizard who had sold the Norbert the book, the wizard who had fostered his jealous plot, was still here in the city.

  "The only problem with the bishop's plan," I extemporized when Theodora seemed to be expecting more, "is that it depends on me being as good a wizard as Joachim thinks I am, which is better than I think I am. That's why I need you to help me at Paul's coronation. I'm a member of the royal court of Yurt and can invite anyone I please."