The Redemption of Althalus (27 page)

What are we looking for, Em?

A witch.

You’re not serious!

The local people call her a witch, but she isn’t really. We’ll want to talk
with the priests in these little towns, and Bheid knows how to talk to other
priests. Don’t throw the word “witch” around in front of the others. It’s one of
those words that turns people’s heads off.

They rode back into the forest, and Althalus spoke briefly with Bheid. Then he told Eliar, Andine, and Gher to wait. “Bheid and I are going to snoop around a bit,” he told them. “These Kwerons are sort of peculiar. I’d like to get the lay of the land before we all go trooping into these villages.”

Then Althalus and the auburn-haired young priest rode back to the main trail.
I need to talk to him, pet,
Emmy said.
Why don’t you take a little
nap or something?

Very funny, Em.

Just step aside, Althalus. You can listen, if you want, but stay out of it.
Then she sort of shouldered him out of the way again. “Bheid?” she said.

Bheid looked sharply at Althalus. “Is that you, Emmy?” he asked in a startled tone.

“Yes. Put on your priestly expression and brush up on your astrology just a bit. When we go into these villages, I want you to look up the local priest in each one. Introduce yourself and tell them that you’ve come here to verify something that you’ve read in the stars.”

“I might need something a little more specific, Emmy,” he said.

“Tell them that if you’re reading the stars right, there’s going to be a fairly big avalanche around here in the near future.”

“Will there really be one?”

“I can almost guarantee it, Bheid. I’ll have Althalus bring down a whole mountain if we really need one that big. I want you to act very concerned. You’ve traveled halfway across the world to warn the people. Make a big fuss. Get excited. Throw in the word ‘disaster’ every time you get the chance. Then, after Althalus has spilled a few acres of boulders down a mountainside, everybody around here’s going to believe that you’re a holy savior, and they’ll all trust you.”

Bheid looked a bit puzzled. “Exactly what are we building up to here, Emmy?”

“One of the villages around here has somebody chained up that they believe is a witch, and they’re planning a big celebration when they burn her at the stake. You’re going to persuade them to turn her over to you instead. Tell them that you’re going to take her back to Awes for interrogation.”

“That might be a bit tricky, Emmy,” he said dubiously.

“Not really. Just tell them that the priesthood in Awes needs to know what Daeva’s plans are so that they can take steps to counter those plans. Make dramatic noises about the fate of the world, eternal darkness, hordes of demons rushing up out of Hell, and assorted other foolishness. I’ll have Althalus punctuate your speeches with thunderclaps and earthquakes and maybe a few heavenly trumpets.”

“Emmy!” he protested.

“Yes? Was there some problem with that?”

“What you’re talking about is pure fakery!”

“So what?”

“I’m a priest, Emmy, not a charlatan! We can’t just make things up this way.”

“Why not?”

“I’m supposed to tell the truth.”

“It
is
the truth, Bheid. All you’re going to do is simplify things so that simple people can understand.”

“Is this woman we’re going to rescue really a witch?”

“Of course not. She’s one of
us—
or she will be as soon as she reads the Knife. We
have
to have her, Bheid. We’ll fail if she’s not with us.”

“You’re forcing me to violate one of my most sacred vows.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. We won’t do it that way then. We’ll just kill everybody in this part of Kweron instead. You’ll be standing waist-deep in blood, but your soul will be all nice and clean. Won’t that make you proud?”

“Monstrous!”

“It’s entirely up to you, Bheid. You can either be a swindler or a butcher. Take your pick.” She paused. “Quickly, quickly, Bheid. Choose which it’s to be so that we can get on with this. If we’re going to kill all these people, we’d better get to killing.”

Aren’t you coming down on him a little hard, Em?
Althalus murmured to her from the back corner of his mind.

He
is
going to learn to do as he’s told, pet. The words each of you pick up
from the Knife apply to
all
of us. You aren’t the only one who’s seeking, and
Andine’s not the only one who must obey. We all seek, and we all obey.
Then she spoke aloud to their very troubled young priest. “Well, Bheid, what’s it to be? Lies or blood?”

“What choice do I have?” he said helplessly. “I’ll lie to them.”

“That’s nice,” she approved.

They rode down into a crude village that had probably been the home of fishermen before the coming of the ice. Althalus climbed down off his horse and approached one of the residents, a thickly bearded man leading a placid ox. “Excuse me,” Althalus said to the man, “do you happen to know where I might find the local priest?”

“There’s the church right over there. He might not be awake yet, though.”

“I’ll wake him,” Althalus said. “My Reverend Master here needs to talk to him.”

“He doesn’t like to be roused out of his bed.”

“He’ll like getting buried alive a lot less.”

“Buried alive?” the bearded man exclaimed.

“By the avalanche.”

“What avalanche?”

“The one that’s going to come rolling down the side of that mountain before long. Thanks for the information, friend. Have yourself a real fine day.”

“You weren’t supposed to say that, Althalus,” Bheid hissed when the worried man with the ox was out of earshot.

“Preparation, Bheid,” Althalus explained. “A few awful rumors are always useful in these situations.”

The local priest was a tall, untidy man with melancholy eyes, and his name was Terkor. “I haven’t studied astrology as deeply as I probably should have, Brother,” he confessed to Bheid. “This is a remote place at the outer edge of civilization. I care for the sick, comfort the bereaved, and mediate local squabbles. That doesn’t leave me much time for study. What have you seen in the stars?”

“The Dragon has moved into the seventh house,” Bheid replied glibly, “and with the moon in the ascendancy, there’s a great potential for a natural disaster. I’m sure you recognize the signs.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it, Brother,” Terkor admitted. “That’s at a level of complexity far beyond my poor understanding.”

“The Dragon is one of the three Earth signs,” Bheid explained, “and the moon carries strong hints of instability—earthquakes, avalanches, and the like. Anyway, as soon as I plotted the course of the Bear, I realized that the disaster was going to strike here in Kweron. I had an obligation to come here to warn you, so my servant and I immediately went to horse. Thank the Gods that we reached you in time.”

“You’re a noble man, Brother. Most men I know wouldn’t have taken the trouble.”

“It’s my duty, Brother. That’s why I read the stars—to warn my fellow men when these things are destined to occur. Most of my fellow priests in Awes concentrate on casting horoscopes for other men for pay. I watch the stars for hints of these disasters instead.”

“Were you able to pick up any signs about what kind of disaster this is going to be?”

“The position of the moon sort of hints that a mountainside’s going to give way.”

“An avalanche? Dear Gods!”

“That’s what I’m reading, yes. Some of my brothers in Awes believe that a comet’s going to strike the Earth, but I don’t agree with them. The Rooster’s in the wrong house for a comet.”

“Comet or avalanche, it doesn’t matter much which one’s going to fall on us, Brother,” Terkor said. “Either one would kill a lot of my neighbors.”

Bheid looked around as if to make sure that they were alone. “Has anything particularly unusual happened here lately, Brother Terkor?” he asked. “I’m reading the presence of some great evil in this vicinity. The stars seem to be combining to respond to that evil.”

“Nekweros is over on the other side of the inlet, Brother Bheid,” Terkor said rather drily. “That’s about as evil as anything’s likely to get.”

“No, Brother Terkor. This is something here on the Kweron side. It may be concealed, though.”

“It
might
be that witch Brother Ambho recently exposed in the village of Peteleya a mile or so on down the coast to the south. Brother Ambho’s a very enthusiastic witch-hunter.”

“A
witch
?” Bheid exclaimed in mock horror.

“Brother Ambho seems to think she’s a witch. His evidence isn’t really very convincing, just between you and me. Her name’s Leitha, and Ambho plans to burn her at the stake at sunrise tomorrow.”

“Praise Deiwos!” Bheid exclaimed. “I arrived in time to talk him out of
that
notion.”

“I doubt it, Brother Bheid. Ambho’s got his heart set on burning her. He’s an enthusiast about witch burning.”

“I’ll change his mind,” Bheid said bleakly.

“I question that. Ambho’s an absolute fanatic when it comes to witches.”

“Are you telling me that word of last year’s decision hasn’t reached here yet?” Bheid demanded. “There was a solemn conclave of the high clergies of all faiths, and the decision was unanimous. All witches
must
be sent to Awes for interrogation. What’s your Exarch
thinking
of? Word of that decision was supposed to be disseminated immediately.”

“Kweron’s a long way from Awes, Brother Bheid,” Terkor replied. “I doubt if our Exarch even knows where it is. Why are we supposed to send our witches to Awes instead of burning them?”

“We
must
have the opportunity to question them, Brother Terkor. Witches are in league with Daeva. If we can persuade them to talk, we’ll be able to determine what the demon’s plans are. The fate of humanity may hinge on our getting those answers.”

“I’ve never known a witch yet who was willing even to admit that she
was
a witch.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to question them. There are holy objects in Awes. No servant of the evil one can bear to look upon them. The pain the sight of those sacred objects causes witches and others in league with Daeva is so intense that they’ll tell us everything they know if we’ll just remove the object from their sight. If we can put our hands on just two or three witches, we’ll know Daeva’s innermost thoughts.”

“Evidently our beloved Exarch didn’t think we needed to know about that,” Terkor said.

“We
must
go to Peteleya and persuade Brother Ambho to turn this accursed woman over to us so that I can take her to Awes for questioning. The fate of mankind may hinge on it.”

“I’ll get my horse,” Terkor said, and he quickly went out.

“You’re very smooth, Bheid,” Althalus said admiringly.

“I
hated
that,” Bheid said. “Terkor’s a good man.”

“Yes, he is,” Althalus agreed. “You didn’t really deceive him that much, though, Bheid. The fate of man might very
well
depend on what we’re doing. He’s doing the right thing for the wrong reasons, but it’s still the right thing.”

“You’re going to have to be
very
eloquent to persuade Ambho to turn Leitha the witch over to you, Brother Bheid,” Terkor said as they rode south. “He has a reputation for building bonfires under people without too much in the way of proof that they’re really witches. All he really needs are a couple of accusations, and he’ll start building fires. If I were you, I’d make some issue of what you’ve read in the stars. If I’m following what you told me, there’s some connection between this disaster and the witch of Peteleya.”

“You might be right about that, Terkor,” Bheid agreed. “The stars have been known to do that on occasion. Their messages are warnings, and very often they conceal solutions in their warnings.” He reached inside his tunic and drew out his rolled-up map of the stars. “Let me look at this again,” he said.

“If it doesn’t quite fit,
make
it fit,” Althalus muttered softly.

“Right,” Bheid whispered his agreement. “Warn Emmy that I might need a few rocks rolling down one of these mountains to get my point across.”

The priest of Peteleya was a lean, cadaverous-looking man with a perpetually outraged expression on his face. His reputation had become widespread in western Kweron as the result of his witch-burning activities, and the idea of turning his captive over to Bheid didn’t exactly fit into his notion of the way things ought to be done. “The conclave of Awes has no authority over me, Bheid,” he declared almost belligerently.

“Perhaps not, Ambho,” Bheid replied coldly, “but the stars
do.
Ignore their warning at your own peril. Under what sign were you born?”

“The sign of the Boar,” Ambho replied a bit nervously.

“I thought as much. The stars have warned us about the men of the Boar.”

“You have the nerve to insult my sign?” Ambho’s eyes bulged.

“You Boars are stubborn,” Bheid said flatly. “Sometimes the stars have to fall down around your ears to get your attention.” Then he threw up his hands. “I have done as the stars commanded,” he declared. “I’ve warned you. If you choose not to listen, what happens to you isn’t on
my
head.”

The word you want is
“twei,”
pet,
Emmy murmured to Althalus.
Think
of a deep, booming sound when you say it. Be a little careful with that one,
though.

Althalus turned to look at the mountain that loomed over the village of Peteleya.
“Twei,”
he commanded softly.

The thunder came echoing up from miles beneath the surface of the earth. The sound was so deeply pitched that it seemed almost that it was felt, rather than heard. It subsided slowly, fading off toward the northwest.

“What was that?” Ambho exclaimed.

“I rather think it was your final warning, man of the Boar,” Bheid replied. “I’d suggest that you make your peace with God. I don’t imagine that any of us will see the sun go down this evening if you refuse to turn your witch over to me.”