His irreverent humor sparked Meiglin to laughter. "You"re warning me she"ll be a trial to raise?"
Ciladis still chuckled. "Very. Does that knowledge please you? It should. I have come, because as the mother of royalty, you"re ent.i.tled to ask for my help."
The words, foreordained, ripped through Meiglin like storm. "I would do anything, all that you ask, to
deny the Mistwraith its conquest. Under such a binding, this child was conceived. I will name her Dari
when she is born. Now tell me the fate that is best for her."
The Sorcerer smiled with forthright relief. "Dari s"Ahelas she must become, if you grant your consent to acknowledge her paternal birthright. Raise her in love, Meiglin. The Fellowship will provide you the means. If, when the time comes, you are still sincere, your daughter must be offered the path her wayward father rejected."
"Exile through Westgate?"
Ciladis nodded. "For safety"s sake. If she chooses to go, if she shoulders the weight of her royal heritage, she must make her way in free will."
"She will go," Meiglin whispered. The tears burned her lids and spilled over again, for a love she had
held for one moment, and lost. "Had her father done the same, I would never have lain with him, and he
would still be alive."
The Sorcerer raised a fingertip to her brow, testing, that light touch all he needed be rea.s.sured of her steadfast commitment. "Meiglin," he stated. "Your courage is blessed. Did you know, your true heart
may yet forge the path that will hold the light for the future?"
The Afterlife of St. Vidicon of Cathode
A Warlock Story Christopher Stasheff With thanks to Morris McGee, onorary Father-General, and to Laurie Patten, honorary Mother Superior of the Order of Ca.s.settes.
(INTRODUCTION).
The abbot waited in the convent"s audience chamber, fascinated by the beauty drawn from its flat planes and minimal furniture by the glow of waxed golden paneling, the vivid color of the spray of flowers in a ceramic vase of elegant simplicity, and the two pictures adorning the walls, lighted by the windows opposite-an old woman next to a young on the wall facing the bench on which he sat, and on the wall at his left, the cowled face of a man in middle age, his brooding expression softened by the twinkle in his eye. If he was the man the abbot suspected, the artist had caught his character perfectly, leaving an elegant legacy to her successors. The whole room spoke of the care and devotion of the women of the Order, and of their dedication to their vocation.
The door opened to admit a woman of his own age, no longer slender, but with a kind though firm look
to her eyes. The abbot rose in deference.
"Sit, please, my lord," the nun said with a slight frown. "Surely the abbot of the Order of St. Vidicon should not stand to a mere nun."
"Any gentleman should stand when a lady enters a room." But the abbot sat as she bade. "Certainly the
abbot should show respect for the Mother Superior of the Order of Ca.s.settes."
"I am only Sister Paterna Testa, a simple nun like all my sisters," the woman said primly. "As you know, my lord, we are not officially sanctioned nor formally an Order, so our leaders have never claimed such a t.i.tle."
"If it comes to t.i.tles, I am not a lord," the abbot said with a smile of amus.e.m.e.nt. "I am a peasant, the son of peasants."
"Then you do not use the t.i.tle when you speak with dukes and earls?" Sister Paterna Testa was skeptical.
"I will admit to that much of worldly vanity," the abbot said without the slightest sign of contrition. "I cannot risk their contempt when I berate them for their treatment of their peasants, after all."
"I have heard that you do just that," Sister Paterna Testa said, "when most of your predecessors rarely emerged from their monastery, and then only by royal summons."
"Or in outrage at the actions of the monarch." The abbot nodded. "It has seemed to me that if I remonstrate with the lords, or even Their Majesties, while their sins are still minor, I may be able to prevent the growth of conditions great enough that I am forced to speak in indignation."
"And so it has occurred, from what rumor tells me." Sister Paterna Testa nodded. "So are you come to
remonstrate with me, and demand that my Order be brought within your jurisdiction?"
"Heaven forfend!" The abbot raised his palms as though to ward off a horror. "But it does seem to me that the only two Orders in the land should be in communication, and that your Order should be officially recognized as being in every way the equal of mine."
"That is quite generous," Sister Paterna Testa said slowly, "but we have managed well for centuries
without such recognition-indeed, without your knowledge. How did you learn of us?"
"Word of your aiding the High Warlock and the High Witch might have been kept to yourselves," the abbot said with a smile, "but not news of the battle you fought to aid him. Minstrels have spread the tale throughout the length and the breadth of the land, so it finally reached even my ears."
"Minstrels! I like not the sound of that." Sister Paterna Testa turned away, frowning. "The Queen shall
no doubt summon us now to be sure we count ourselves her va.s.sals."
"She is more likely to summon you to heal those sunk in melancholy or beset by delusions," the abbot said, "but no matter her motive, it would strengthen your position to be officially const.i.tuted, and recognized by the Pope."
"I had heard that His Holiness had finally found Gramarye." Sister Paterna Testa turned her frown back
to the abbot.
"He has, but felt it sufficient to leave us to the ministrations of the Father-General of our Order," the abbot said.
"Then we stand on quicksand," Sister Paterna Testa said, "for we have no abbess or mother-general."
"Quite so," said the abbot, "since there is no Order of Ca.s.settes anywhere but in this convent, whereas the Order of St. Vidicon has chapter houses on every Terran-colonized planet."
"We have as firm a claim to his founding as have you!"
"I do not doubt it," said the abbot, "and you thereby have as good a claim to exist as in independent
Order, subject only to the Holy Father."
Sister Paterna Testa knit her brows, searching his eyes for duplicity and finding none. Slowly, then, she
said, "How could we prove such a claim, though? The Vatican will scarcely accept our unsupported word."
"This picture will support your claim by itself." The abbot nodded at the painting of the monk. "If it
matches photographs in the archives of our Order, few can gainsay you. It is painted from life, is it not?"
"From memory, at least." Sister Paterna Testa turned to the portrait. "It was drawn by the young woman
who became our second leader, some years after the visitation of the monk who saved her, and our founder. He would not say his name, though."
"Yet he told you tales of St. Vidicon that we know not," the abbot said, "or so the minstrels have even
sung-that you have knowledge of the Saint that we have not."
"So that is why you have come!" Sister Paterna Testa turned back to him, amused. "You mean to trade your support for our knowledge, is that it?"
"Our support will be freely given if you will have it." It was the abbot"s turn to be prim.
"And you expect our knowledge to be freely given also?" Sister Paterna Testa asked with a trace of
irony. "Well, it shall be so, for we believe that knowledge should be free to all who wish to learn it."
"I have seen your school for the peasant children, and it is elegant proof of that claim," the abbot said.
"If you wish to share, I shall not refuse."