The Warlock Heretical (37 page)

religion could be even more seriously misused by amateurs than by professionals, Lord Warlock. Still, even

allowing the validity

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of your idea, I don't think organization can be prevented. There have been sects, such as the Taoists and the

Methodists, who began with the idea that there should be no formal, ministers or hierarchy, but who eventually

developed both."

"You're probably right," Rod admitted. "Sooner or later, someone will probably try to make a living out of any

religion."

"I wouldn't quite put it that way." McGee frowned. "It might be more accurate to say that people in emotional

turmoil will always look for a guide and teacher, and will look for spiritual answers in their religion, so that they

will always develop a need for ministers."

"But just because it's inevitable doesn't make it right," Rod objected. "The average person will always want to put

his or her conscience, and the responsibility for his or her life, into someone else's hands. Very few people are

willing to take the responsibility onto their own shoulders, Father."

"Oh, really?" The Father-General finally showed preliminary signs of exasperation. "And how are you doing

with the responsibility for your own conscience, Lord Warlock?"

"I'm bearing up. Not that it's exactly pleasant, mind you, but I generally manage to wrestle through my tough

times on my own. Of course, I have a wonderful wife. ..."

"And you never seek guidance from a religious professional?"

"Seek it, no. One usually shows up to offer it without my asking, though."

"And how do you cope when you discover you've already done something wrong that can't be undone?"

"You mean do I look for the sacrament of reconciliation?" Rod smiled wryly. "Only during the Easter season,

Father. I still think confession is the Church's opportunity for thought control. Okay, so I have indulged
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in it

occasionally—but just as often there hasn't been a priest handy, and I've had to apologize to God on my own. Of

course, when I finally do find a priest, it makes for a long session. Probably unnecessary, but it won't do any

harm either—and it can't hurt to take out afterlife insurance."

"The cure for long sessions in the Reconciliation Room is to go there more frequently. Have you been lately?"

"No, Father—I haven't committed any major sins since the last time."

Father McGee briefly considered the variety of mayhem and dirty tricks he'd heard Rod advocate, and wondered

what the Lord Warlock counted a major sin. "You should go, anyway— it's good for the soul."

"Whose, Father? Your soul, or mine?"

Rod closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair with a massive sigh.

"Aye, my love—yet 'tis done now." Gwen came over to perch beside him and stroke his forehead.

"Mayhap the

Father-General will pay us greater heed in the future."

Rod stiffened. "You 'would mention a thing like that, wouldn't you?" Gwen's eyes widened. "Dost not wish him to?"

"Only so long as he doesn't get any ideas about trying to throw his weight around."

"Nay! Surely Father McGee is a saintly man!"

"Yeah, but even a good man can be tempted, as our late Archbishop just finished proving. Not that I'm really

worried about McGee, though—he's one of the good ones. But he'll have a successor, one of these decades—and

I'm not eager for that."

Gwen frowned. "He cannot do so very much without revealing his monks' knowledge of wondrous machines."

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"That helps, yes—but they have a sufficient capacity for mayhem by themselves." The door to the bedroom opened, and a small ghost drifted out in a white nightshirt, heading for the water bucket.

It sipped from the dipper and turned to go back.

Rod reached out and caught it by the middle as it tried to get past. The child howled happily, struggling with

more effect than conviction, as he plumped it onto his lap with a grin. "Thought you were supposed to be asleep."

"I did thirst, Papa," Gregory explained.

"Only for water? Fine."

The boy sobered. "There's naught wrong in thirsting for grace, Papa."

"True." Rod tried to ignore that chill down his back. "But tiptoeing about in the night won't bring it." Gregory actually grinned. "Nay, but knowledge will. The Father-General did have the right of it, Papa—I am

called to learning, but not to holy orders."

The chill went away, and Rod fought his body's impulse to collapse. "I said he was a good one. But what are you

going to do for company?"

"Even as he said—I shall found a community of scholars."

Rod stared at the boy, implications reeling through his mind. Then he grinned slowly. "Why, so you will, won't

you? The University of Gramarye, no doubt." He swung the boy to the floor, aimed him toward his room, and

propelled him toward it with a spank. "All right, enough conversation. Back to bed, now, and sleep quietly,

please—that's enough dreams for one night."

Gregory gave a theatrical squall and scurried away.

As the door slammed behind him, Gwen turned back to Rod, smiling with amusement. "Well, he is safe from all

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thou didst fear. Yet would it be so horrible to have him a priest, my lord?"

"Yes! Not that there's anything wrong with the clergy, dear—it's just that Gregory has too free a mind to be

happy among them."

Gwen stared at him in total surprise. Then she nodded. "He hath, hath he not? Wherefore did I not see it?"

"Because it never occurred to you that the Church might restrict a person's thinking. Never occurred to anyone

else on this planet, either."

She gave him her "convince me" look. "Wherefore would it not?"

"Because none of you ever knew there was any other way to think. You were raised to believe there was only one

Truth, and the Church-had it."

"Why, that is so . . ." Gwen said slowly.

"But there may be aspects to that Truth that the Church doesn't know yet."

"Surely the good fathers will embrace such knowledge, when it is discovered!"

"Sure—just as they embraced the new idea of a second chapterhouse." Rod shook his head. "Sorry, dear. I can't

believe that religions like new ideas."

"Yet the Runnymede Chapter will endure, now that it hath begun—as will new notions."

"Yes, but only in spite of attempts to wipe them out—and I'd rather Gregory weren't caught between those

particular millstones."

"True," Gwen agreed reluctantly. "Yet surely this land will tolerate difference and newness more easily, my lord,

now that some few great lords' estates have been quartered, and new lords elevated."

"Yes." Rod glowered at the fire, nettled. "You would remind me of our new responsibilities, wouldn't you?"

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" Tis naught but thy due," Gwen insisted. "Whoe'er did hear of a lord without an estate?"

"But I don't want responsibility for a whole bunch of serfs!"

"Wherefore not, when thou hast already the care of all Gramarye? And, too, our new lands have a castle upon

them."

"Yeah—a gloomy stone pile that nobody's lived in for a hundred years! No, this cottage is quite enough for me,

thank you."

"I have endeavored to make it so." Gwen leaned her cheek on his head and linked her arms loosely around his

neck. "Still, 'twill be a pleasant retreat in the summer."

"Retreat ..." Rod lifted his head. "It would be a little harder for Tuan and Catharine to get to us there, wouldn't

it?"

"It would indeed," she said, amused. "Mightest thou not find rest in such a place, my lord?"

"I might, at that." Rod smiled, leaning his head back to gaze up at her. "That's why I need you, dear—to look on

the bright side for me."

She bowed her head to gaze down at him, then smiled slowly. "And dost thou need me for naught else, my lord?"

"Well, there were a couple of other things." Rod reached up, sliding his hand under her hair to cup her neck,

drawing her head down. "Think the kids are asleep yet?"

Her eyes lost focus for a moment; then she smiled down at him again, murmuring, "Very soundly," and lowered

her mouth for a long, and very healing, kiss.

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