Count Scar - SA (29 page)

Until that moment I had listened to this amazing story almost as one hears any of the accounts of our iron fathers and grandfathers and their deeds. But with this last statement I threw up my
hands in the junior canon's gesture for permission to speak. Receiving Brother Endaris's nod, I stammered: "But that explains the attack upon the count! The third student must finally have
revealed the secret to some younger magian. Now the Perfected are trying to recover the great battle telesma from Peyrefixade!"

"Precisely. In fact, I have information that he told at least two of his best pupils the entire story last autumn, just before he died. The Perfected have their attention very much upon Peyrefixade
now, and will seek to recover their great lost weapon by any means they can find. That is why we of the Order of the Three Kings intend to send this conviare back to Peyrefixade in the hands of
our best young diviner, with the purpose of finding it ourselves first."

It was some moments before I managed to say, "But, Revered Father, surely this is a task for one of the elder brothers, perhaps even yourself. I cannot be the proper man." Turning to Prior
Belthesar and Abbot Caspar, I forced myself to add, "In fact, O my fathers and masters, I have lately had reason to doubt I am worthy even for the current position of trust in which you have set
me."

Prior Belthesar started to voice one of his hearty reassurances, but bit it off as Abbot Caspar raised his hand. He waved for me to approach. I presented my hands pressed together in the gesture of
fealty prescribed in our rule for brothers before the abbot, and he took them between his own and smiled his grave, land smile. "We expected this doubt and hesitation, younger brother," he
declared. "But your work as the counts capellanus has fully vindicated the case Prior Belthesar made to the Order for you. Fear not; you shall be well prepared before you go back. Your count plans
to remain here not only tomorrow for his man's burial but also through the whole day following, to discuss the first gift he means to make as his family's newest head. During that time, Brother
Endaris himself shall instruct you in aspects of concealment and battle magic which you may need, and Brother Quercus in better mastery of the deep and far vision and hearing than you have
ever known. The prior must begin his return journey to the duke's city in the morning, but he assures us you have already learned all he has to teach." I started to speak, but he hushed me. "Oh
yes, I know, it is not merely such practical questions of preparedness that trouble you now! You have spiritual and moral concerns, perhaps even concerns as to where your own deepest loyalties
may lie, that worry you far more. We intend to address those as well. At dawn, you and I shall walk across to the Chapel of the Cleft, where our reverend Master will be waiting to see and talk
with you."

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"You are troubled at heart," said the Master, motioning me to rise from my knees. "Let us talk of it a little."

I got up slowly from the gravel path. When Abbot and I had entered the little garden of the chapel and seen him, the Master had appeared essentially as I remembered from the last time I had seen
him more than seven years before, except that he was even more frail and stooped. But at close quarters I noticed something else; his skin had taken on a translucence, almost a transparency, much
like what brother Endaris had described for the Magus de Cuza on his deathbed. Perhaps this happened to all great Magians in the end, when they had virtually consumed themselves in working
magic of the highest order.

"You may withdraw, my sons," the Master said to his attendant novice and Abbot Caspar. When they had retreated into the chapel, he turned to me and said, "My old feet have grown a little
weary in my morning walk, Brother Melchior, and I am cold. Assist me to that sunny seat at the far end of the garden, and then you can tell me about whatever concerns you."

Once he was seated, I began speaking very hesitantly and with eyes cast down. I had wrestled long with doubts and troubled thoughts through nights of half-sleep, trying with little success to
find the words to name them even to myself. Now I spoke disjointedly of my grandfather's death, of the inertia and dread that had held me back from informing the Inquisition as to where a nest
of heretics might be found, and even of my doubts about whether I should act against the seneschal despite my fears he was not only at least an incipient heretic but a possible traitor to his master.

I spoke as well of how the cool clarity I always knew when working magic had so often dissolved into confusion and uncertainty when I tried to grapple with the deep moral and doctrinal
questions that faced me in my role as a priest.

The Master listened in silence with a calm, closed face; only an occasional nod of his head showed he was even attending to my words. When I fell silent at last, he stretched out his hand to bless
me, then said, "And do you suppose that I have passed my whole long life quite untouched by doubts, Melchior my son?"

"I—I do not know, my father."

"Then I shall tell you. Sinner that I am, I have many times questioned things we have been told to hold as definitively true, have even asked myself whether I chose the best course in creating the
Order within the discipline of the True Faith. I was myself for a time the pupil of a great magus as a youth, and found much to admire in the doctrines of the Perfected and much that raised
substantive challenges to accepted precepts. Indeed, my master the magus thought me the most promising of all his pupils and the likeliest to succeed him."

He fell silent, almost as if lost in remembrance. After a few moments I raised my outspread hands for permission to speak. At his nod, I asked, "Then what finally drew you back?"

"Ah, it was the fact that the True Faith does not assert that following its precepts and teachings, however faithfully, can alone bring one to perfection while still locked in this body and this life.

By contrast, once one has been recognized as a Parfait among the Perfected, one is presumed to be a saint on earth and immune to doing any further wrong. There lies the deadliest temptation
within their doctrine, particularly for the man who has also schooled himself to wield the powers of a Magian! No person's earthly judgment, however much one may study and pray, can ever be
truly perfect. While we remain part of this world we all are prey to the passions of the flesh and the flaws of the spirit to some degree. Are you not sometimes angry, Brother Melchior, even very
angry?"

"Of course, my father. But I still have very far to go in becoming a truly worthy member of our Order."

"Hmm. Many would assert that I am the worthiest member of our Order, but I tell you that I am very far from having overcome anger in myself. Or pride, or envy, or doubt, or the hundred other
stinging gnats of sin that plague each of us continually. It is an instructive thing to be hailed as saintly when one knows very well that one is not, my son. It makes one realize how necessary is
some standard for conduct beyond one's own faulty and frail judgment."

He fell silent again. I recognized this way of his from my long-ago service as his attendant. He would speak no more until I, the pupil, found the proper question. I strained my thought for several
moments, then ventured, "So you returned to the True Faith because it provides such a standard?"

He smiled. "Such was my belief, and to that belief I have always returned in the end. The True Faith never allows me to suppose that I have attained perfection, or become incapable of error. This
is a crucial check upon anyone who holds great power in this world, whether power of command over men and lands or magic forces. Especially magic forces. That is why it is so important that
the learning and study of magic occur within the Order, where there are others sworn to the same high calling to check pride and excess. None of us is perfect unto himself, and even collectively we
can err. But error is much less likely when the action of every Magian is subject to the continual examination of many others who are striving to do right under the same rule. You, as a junior
canon, are subject to the review and correction of your superiors. They correct one another. Even my son Abbot Caspar and I myself, who have no earthly superiors within the Order, are
nonetheless subject to the constant check of knowing ourselves exemplars to all the brothers under us. We continually examine and reexamine every word and act to test how it accords with the
moral precepts and rule we are sworn to uphold, lest we should lead wrongly those who follow us."

"But, my father, Abbot and the others now propose to send me out again to act in a difficult situation quite alone, with only my own judgment to guide me."

"And you fear you may err. But that is quite right. If you did not fear, you would not be sent. What you must also recall is the other support of the True Faith. If you have prepared yourself as
well as you are able in both practical and spiritual ways and act based on your conscience, you will have done all that could be hoped for or expected." He held up his hand. "And do not imagine
that the promptings of your human goodness are necessarily weakness. I have heard how you helped your count save a band of the Perfected. This was not ill-done by either of you. The more
zealous servants of the Inquisition are sometimes far too ready to destroy when their proper mission should be to redeem."

He signaled for me to help him rise; our interview was nearly at an end. "Before you leave, allow me to commend you on how well you have performed in your assignment thus far—despite all
these doubts of yours! Your care and zeal, and the excellent magic you have performed in your count's service, have been a credit to our Order. Indeed, you have already fulfilled one of the difficult
tasks we set for you by winning Count Galoran's goodwill toward us. I have learned to my amusement that he originally held the notion that we might be somehow heretical! But thanks to his
association with you, he seems to have come here now with a much more favorable view toward our Order." He smiled. "Now you should go; you have much hard preparation to make in the short
time before you begin your return journey. Remember, as his spiritual advisor you are sworn to support your count, to aid and defend him, and you should use all your skills and training as both
priest and Magian to do so. In any emergency, unless his cause be manifestly unjust, that is your first duty. But if you have a choice and time to consider, be far more afraid to work destruction
than to render mercy."

I spent the rest of that day and the whole of the night, day, and night that succeeded it, in nonstop work, except for Bruno's reburial and attending the Offices. A bitter herbal mixture combined
with a potent charm from the Brother Dispenser freed me from any need for food or sleep during the whole of this period. Instead, I spent every available moment of every hour learning and
relearning what seemed like more high-order magic than I had acquired in whole years of previous study. I went round and round among Brother Endaris, blind Brother Quercus, the great library,
and the scriptorium for the most part. But there was also a handful of sessions with others to learn specific charms of possible use, even a short visit with Provost Balaam to review the special
branch of graphic magic used in sending messages over long distances.

When I finally hauled myself painfully up onto my horse the morning we were to depart, my mind was a disorderly jumble of new knowledge, including some powers and capacities I had only
heard rumors of or had never known existed. Moreover, I had only to reach a hand within my cassock to feel the comforting presence of a leather belt carrying an almost unbelievable array of
telesmae, phials, powders, and other magically charged objects. Every Magian within the Mother House, it seemed, had devoted all of his work time over the last week to preparing one or another
powerful charm or object for my use, if need for it should arise. If I should fail now, it would not be for lack of resources.

"I confess I found both the Mother House of your Order and its officers quite impressive," the count said as our party threaded our way carefully down the mountain. "You Magians seem to lack
neither holiness nor devotion to the practical aspects of your art. I gather they kept you rather busy while we were there."

"Yes, Count. I was being schooled in things that will make me more useful in your service."

"So I was told. I must say, I was startled to learn we were to take the conviare back with us, and still more amazed to learn why. In fact, I'm still a little surprised you were not simply given your
assignment and told to proceed without anyone's troubling me with an account of the matter."

"The Magus de Cuza's great war telesma is supposed to lie hidden within your castle, Count. My Order would not presume to find it and take it from there without your knowledge and
permission."

"And very proper of them, too. If all of our future relations are conducted with such mutual respect, your Order will find me almost as good a friend and patron as my great-uncle was in his
day."

Once out of the shadow of the mountains, we found ourselves riding in spring sunshine that today felt genuinely warm. I felt clear and bright also, and my distant hearing and vision seemed
vastly improved from what I had been able to do riding the same road in the other direction just three days before. Now I could fix my attention upon a speck before a distant cliff and almost
effortlessly see it expand in my second vision until I would be looking at a great eagle from what seemed to be only a span beyond his wingtip. Or, in the midst of exchanging some remark with
the count, my second ear would be caught and I would find myself overhearing every word of a conversation between two men working in a field behind a hill a mile ahead.