As the Fey did.
"Forgive me," he whispered, hoping the Holy One would take the words to God's ear. "Please, someone, forgive me."
FIFTY-FIVE
Solanda sat on the window sill, her feet braced against one side of the stone frame, her back braced against the other. The wind blew in from the river, carrying with it the smell of sunshine and mud. Flowers were blooming in the garden below. Someday soon, when she was certain that Arianna wouldn't spontaneously change into a thorn or something even more wicked, she would ask the nurse to accompany them into the garden.
She hoped that would be before winter.
Since the Shaman had come, though, Solanda was calmer. She was seeing some of the benefits of Nicholas's care. The food was good. She had just finished a plate of fish cooked over a slow fire. The cook had added delicate herbs which she picked off and placed on the side, and she hadn't eaten her asparagus, but saved it for the lump, who inexplicably loved green food.
He was standing in the other window, as he had since he woke up, holding the tapestry back with one hand and staring over the garden to the river and Tabernacle beyond. The nurse had taken the morning off — Solanda wanted her rested because the nurse had no real idea how difficult the next year would be.
Neither did Solanda. She only knew she had to take it one day at a time. And last night, the nurse bore the brunt of Arianna's playfulness. Arianna was learning some control after a week of life. She would only change enough to panic the nurse, but not enough — and not long enough — to give the nurse time to wake Solanda. By the time Solanda did wake, the nurse was shaking and crying, frightening Arianna who started crying too.
The child had learned, in the last day, to change a single finger without shifting anything else. Solanda supervised the non-dangerous Shifts, but did nothing. Better to let Arianna Shift under observation than to order her not to Shift at all.
The door to the room opened, and the nurse came in.
"I think I told you to rest," Solanda said.
The nurse nodded. "I canna sleep away from me babies." She looked at the lump. "Has it been all day he's been looking out there?"
"I'm afraid so," Solanda said. She put her plate on the floor so that she could get the fish oil off it later, when she was in her cat form, and got off the ledge. Arianna was still sleeping, exhausted from her play the night before.
"Come on." The nurse took the lump's arm. He turned and allowed her to lead him near the fire. Then he hugged her, the movements slow and gentle. Solanda found it amazing that the nurse tolerated such handling. But she actually seemed to like it. "Tis sleep ye need, boy. Ye was up with me all night. Tain't good for ye."
Solanda wondered if anything was good for that lump, but instead of commenting on that, she said, "I think I'll take a cat nap. Wake me if you need me."
The nurse smiled at her and went to the lump's favorite corner. He followed her. She leaned against the wall, and he sat on her lap, resting his head on her shoulder. After watching them for weeks now, Solanda marveled at the lump. By rights, he should have died before he reached Arianna's age. But unless someone knew that he wasn't a real, he seemed like a child continually moving underwater, never hearing properly, never speaking properly, never moving properly. She wondered how Arianna would deal with him.
Not that it mattered at the moment. Arianna was asleep in her favorite position, her small fist pressed against her cheek. Her eyelashes twitched as if she were dreaming. What did she dream about? Shifting? The loss of her mother? Already her life was full of activity and loss.
The fish scent under Solanda's nose was driving her cat side crazy. She took a deep breath and Shifted, feeling her body shrink into its familiar second form. She ended up on her haunches beside the crib, her front paws on the legs. She brought her paws down and immediately cleaned her face, getting oil and flavor from her whiskers. The meal had been good — excellent in fact — if she could just get the cooks to forgo the green.
She walked over to the plate and pushed the asparagus aside with her nose. It reeked worse in this form, and almost turned her strong stomach. She ignored it, and licked the remains of her meal off the plate, beginning on the lower left rim and working her way into the center.
The nurse started cooing, as she often did to soothe the lump. Islanders frowned on song, as Solanda had learned on Arianna's second night of life. They had learned somewhere that music was evil, and they had outlawed it. Only birds do that, the nurse had told her.
Birds, heh. Fey did it too.
Birds. That was one irritation of the window overlooking the garden. All the birds that landed on the trees below. Meals, waiting for her hunting skills. But she didn't dare launch herself from the window, so the delicious creatures sang in blissful ignorance, waiting for the day when Solanda became free again, the day she made a meal of everything bug, bird, and mouse in sight.
At least they had fish here. Good fish too.
Above her Arianna giggled. Solanda cursed under her breath. The child catnapped. Solanda sat on her haunches and cleaned her whiskers a second time. The nurse would warn her if Arianna began to Shift. A cat had a right to finish her meal in peace.
Then a movement caught her eye. The lump stood up. The nurse stopped cooing. The lump walked to the crib and looked down. He did that periodically, and it always unnerved Solanda. It was as if the lump suddenly remembered he had a sister, and wanted to protect her.
He clutched the edge of the basket. Solanda couldn't see Arianna's physical response, but she giggled again. She liked her lump and usually reached toward him when he looked at her.
The nurse looked at Solanda and shrugged. Solanda sighed. She would have to change back. She didn't want the lump to inspire Arianna to do anything stupid.
Then the lump whipped his head around. The sudden movement unbalanced him. His arms pinwheeled, bumping the crib, and he toppled sideways.
He had never moved that fast. Ever.
The nurse hurried across the room, and caught the crib before it fell over. Then she crouched beside the lump, brushing his hair from his face and asking him if he was all right.
Solanda hadn't moved.
He was looking at her. His eyes were alive. They had an intelligence she recognized, a presence she felt she should know.
The fish taste went stale in her mouth. She stood and crouched, inching up to the lump as she would to a dead body. Then she stopped by the face. The lump had never had this kind of adult intelligence glowing from its eyes. Occasionally she had seen it look smart — she had wondered if Jewel was coming back as a Power or if Gift was looking through him. But she had never seen this.
The lump's mouth was curved in almost a sneer. He seemed to recognize her too. The nurse was still exclaiming over him, trying to get him to show her that he was all right. He wasn't bleeding, but he wasn't moving either.
She sniffed his face, wondering if he smelled different. He had the dry polished scent of stone, and a bit of the egg he ate for breakfast. His eyes followed her every movement. When she got close to his lips, he blew at her to scare her away.
She huffed, a cat noise of disgust that she couldn't control, and the ruff on the back of her neck rose. She backed away from him, unwilling to take her gaze from his face.
"By the Powers," the lump said in disgust, and then the presence left his eyes.
"What did he say?" the nurse whispered.
But the intelligence remained. Solanda saw it, wondered at it. The intelligence was boyish, now, not as malevolent. The lump closed his eyes and stretched, like a child would do before sleep.
"What did he say?" the nurse repeated.
She hadn't understood him. The lump had spoken in Fey.
Again.
The hair was still up on the back of Solanda's neck. Her tail had poofed with fear. The lump was alive because someone had visited this nursery through him. Probably Gift. But now he brought someone else with him.
Even though she wanted to clean th
is memory away, she didn't have time. She had to check on her baby. Solanda Shifted, rising back to her Fey form, feeling her muscles lengthen, her tail disappear, her eyes grow.
"What did he say?" This time, the nurse's tone held fear.
Solanda brushed her hair away from her face with one hand. "He swore in Fey," she said.
"In Fey?" the nurse asked. "Did you teach him that?"
Solanda shook her head. She peered into the crib. Arianna was awake, her eyes wide and frightened. Solanda picked her up and held her warm body against her own naked shoulder.
The baby was all right.
For now.
FIFTY-SIX
Matthias paced the audience chamber in the Tabernacle. He couldn't sit. He couldn't wait much longer either. Soon Nicholas's people would come after him.
The guards had helped him escape from the keep, thinking he was the one in danger. They had procured him a horse, and let him ride alone across the bridge, following as quickly as they could. When he got to the Tabernacle, he ordered the first Aud he saw to get Titus and Porciluna and to have them meet him in the Audience Chamber.
That had been a few moments ago, but it felt like hours. He had already paced the room twice, ignoring the drawings of the Rocaan, keeping his hands away from the swords.
No matter how much he wanted to lie to himself, he couldn't forget the clank of the sword against his shield, his ability to keep the spark at bay, and the feeling of the light pouring out of him.
Burden had told the truth, and for that Matthias had killed him.
Perhaps this magic was the key to his lack of faith. Perhaps he was a demon-spawn as they had said.
The side door opened and Titus came in. His robe hung loosely. He wasn't wearing a sash. His filigree sword looked almost white against the black of his robe.
"You all right?" he asked. He was looking at Matthias's hand. Matthias had already forgotten the injury. The pain seemed part of him. He almost glanced at his hand to see if it had healed itself.
"No, I'm not all right," Matthias said. He paced away from Titus. Ahead of him was a sword. Past that were carvings of the Roca. Everywhere he turned were signs of this religion.
"What can I do?" Titus asked.
Nothing. Everything. Throw holy water. Attempt to take the spells away from him. Give him faith. "Wait," Matthias said. "Porciluna will join us."
And he had better do so soon before Matthias lost his nerve.
Before Nicholas and his guards got here.
Before the entire kingdom was turned upside down.
"The guards said you went to the keep," Titus said.
"What I did doesn't matter," Matthias said. He kept his back to Titus. Titus, with his eagerness and his intuitive understanding of the Roca, was exactly what Matthias didn't need.
The door creaked open. Matthias turned, half afraid to see Nicholas in the doorway. Instead Porciluna stood there. His robe was pressed, and he wore rings on each finger. His biretta was placed to cover his balding scalp. He looked official and omnipotent.
"They're saying you were attacked at the keep," he said.
"Close the door," Matthias said. No secrets here, except the ones God ordered them to keep. God or a Rocaan long forgotten. All those years he had planned to spend in scholarship, lost to the day-to-day running of the Tabernacle. All those years of prayer, lost to a morning of revenge.
Porciluna closed the door and came into the chamber. He looked as if he belonged here, his robes flowing behind him, his size giving him a stature and power that Matthias never had.
Matthias bit his upper lip. He wasn't certain how to proceed. But he had to. He had to move forward somehow.
And he didn't have much time.
"I am stepping down as Rocaan," he said.
"What?"
"You can't!"
Porciluna and Titus spoke at the same time. Both men had identical expressions of shock on their faces.
"No one has resigned as Rocaan," Titus said. "It's a post appointed by God."
"It's a post given to one man from another," Matthias said.
"The Elders will have to approve this," Porciluna said.
"The Elders have no say. Besides, they begged me to step down days ago." Matthias clasped his hands in front of his robe, wincing at the pain that flared suddenly in his palm. "You were behind that, Porciluna. Don't play with me now. You wanted this position so badly you would have done anything to get it."
"Holy Sir, do you know what chaos this will place the church in?" Titus asked.
"The same kind of chaos it has been in for the week," Matthias said. "My leaving will probably help the Tabernacle. That, of course, depends on how you play this."
"You said nothing of leaving," Porciluna said.
"Trust me." Matthias clasped his hands tighter to keep from shaking. "You don't want me here."
"But the Secrets —"
"Titus has the Secrets," Matthias said.
"Titus?" Porciluna's flush grew deeper. He glanced at Titus then at Matthias. "But he's a Danite."
Matthias nodded. "Someone else had to know the Secrets, and it had to be someone who wouldn't try to get rid of me immediately."
"You can't give the Secrets to a Danite!"
"I already have." Matthias swallowed. Titus was staring at him, eyes wide. He was little more than a boy, early twenties if he was that old, faithful and strong. He had to be to endure what was coming next.
"So now you give the Secrets to me," Porciluna said.
Matthias shook his head. "I don't think you should be Rocaan, Porciluna. I think you lack faith, and I think you are motivated by greed, two elements that have no place in the Rocaan's suite."
"You lack faith," Porciluna said.
"And I'm stepping down," Matthias said.
"If you aren't planning to give me the Secrets, why did you bring me in here?"
Matthias shook his head. Whatever his crimes, they had none of the self-absorption that Porciluna had. "To let you know, as the ranking Elder, that I'm leaving. To let you know that Titus has the Secrets."
"And we're to accept this boy as our next Rocaan?" Porciluna said.
Matthias shrugged. "The Elders must decide. I am leaving the post of Rocaan for reasons I will not discuss with you. The old Rocaan thought I had God's Ear. But I don't. And I don't trust any decision I make about my own successor. The council has to decide now."
He walked around them. Titus hadn't moved. Porciluna was shaking with anger.
"You won't be here?" Titus asked, his voice rising.
"I'm leaving," Matthias said.
"But what am I supposed to do?" Titus asked.
"Follow your heart," Matthias said. "Of all the people in the Tabernacle, you're the only one who seems to be listening to God."
"Although you said you can't tell," Porciluna said.
"Do you see what I mean?" Matthias asked. Now that his decision was made, he felt calmer. But he did have to leave as quickly as he could.
"Where are you going?" Titus asked. "How do I find you?"
"You won't," Matthias said.
Porciluna squinted at him. "What happened in the keep?"
Too much. And fortunately, most of it had died with Burden. Matthias certainly would never speak of it. "You'll find out soon enough."
"Are you sure the boy has all the Secrets?" Porciluna asked. His tone had an edge that Matthias didn't like.
"All of them," Matthias said. "Keep him alive, Porciluna, because I'm not going to tell you the Secrets."
"Elders should know," Porciluna said.
Matthias shook his head. "I may be nothing else, but I am a scholar of Rocaanism. Nothing in the Words or in the Teachings state that Elders must keep the Secrets. Nothing even says that Elders should become Rocaan. That's been tradition."
"You're destroying the church," Porciluna said.
Matthias's hand throbbed. Porciluna had no idea how badly Matthias had hurt the church nor how badly he would hurt it if he staye
d. He turned to Titus. "Please explain this to the others," he said. "I'm doing this because it's for the best."
"You don't have to resign, Holy Sir," Titus said. "I'm sure we can work this out."
Matthias shook his head. "The Tabernacle is better off without me. You all are." He held up his good hand. "Blessed Be."
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