The Redemption of Althalus (82 page)

“She could do worse,” Emdahl noted. “You’ve got more than your share of faults, Althalus, but you
do
love everybody in your little group of followers. With a little training, you’d make a good priest—of course that’s what you really are, isn’t it? You’re the Exarch of the Church of Dweia, aren’t you?”

“We aren’t quite that formal, Emdahl. Emmy’s a lot more relaxed than her brothers are. As long as we love her, she’s perfectly happy. She even purrs.”

“Purrs?”

“It’d take much too long to explain,” Althalus told him.

“It’s probably the best we can do on such short notice, Bheid,” Emdahl said when they’d all returned to the temple at Maghu a few days later. “Aleikon wasn’t very happy about it, but we all finally agreed that our orders were going to have to give the Grey Robes a free hand. Your order won’t be very large. That vow of poverty makes most priests start to choke, so you won’t have very many voluntary followers at first.”

“There’ll be some, though, who’ll be involuntary,” Yeudon added drily.

“No,” Bheid declared adamantly. “You gentlemen
aren’t
going to use the Grey Robes as a garbage heap for your undesirables.”

“Now, wait a minute, Exarch Bheid,” Aleikon said. “Your order’s less than a week old. You’re definitely subordinate to the three of us.”

“Then we can just forget the whole idea,” Bheid said, his face hardening. “If all you three are trying to do is throw a sop to the commoners to quiet the current unrest, I’ll have no part in it. Something along those lines would just be a perpetuation of the blunder that opened the door to Argan in the first place. Can’t you see that?”

“He’s got a point there,” Emdahl conceded grudgingly. Then he shook his head and made a wry face. “I think I may have let one of the good ones get away. If I’d been paying attention the way I’m supposed to, I could have groomed Brother Bheid to be my successor.”

“Not if I’d seen him first, Emdahl,” Yeudon disagreed.

———

“Emmy wants to talk with you, Althalus,” Eliar said quietly as they were all leaving Exarch Aleikon’s ornate office.

“Oh? Am I in trouble again?”

“She didn’t say. I don’t think so, though. Why don’t we use the door to your room? I’ll stand guard outside.”

“All right.”

They went along the corridor of the temple where the quarters Exarch Aleikon had provided them were located, and Eliar opened the door to the room assigned to Althalus. Just beyond that door were the familiar stairs.

Dweia was waiting in the tower room when Althalus came up the steps. She held her arms out to him, and they wordlessly embraced. “Is something amiss, Em?” he asked her.

“No, actually things are going rather well. Bheid’s turning out even better than I’d expected. That’s something I wanted to explain to you. I think it’s important for you to know what’s really happening.”

“I thought it was fairly obvious, Em.”

“Not entirely, pet. The words on the Knife are just a bit more complex than they appear on the surface. What did it tell
you
to do?”

“Seek. Didn’t that mean that I was supposed to wander around and find the others?”

“It goes perhaps a bit further than that, love. You were
also
supposed to find me.”

“I’d already done that, hadn’t I?”

“Not really. You’d found Emmy the cat, but you hadn’t found me yet when you first saw the Knife.”

“I suppose I hadn’t at that. Where are we going here?”

“We’ll get to it, Althalus. When Eliar saw the word ‘lead,’ he thought it meant that he was supposed to command an army, but that’s not what it meant at all. Andine read ‘obey’ and that’s how she defeated Gelta.”

“All right, I can follow you so far. Leitha’s supposed to ‘listen,’ except that she doesn’t do it with her ears. We’ve already used that particular capability of hers any number of times.”

“It’s going to be just a bit more complicated than that when she meets Koman.”

“I sort of gathered that. She knows what she’s going to have to do, and she doesn’t like it one little bit. She cried all over the front of my tunic after she’d tacked that ‘daddy’ on to me. Just exactly what is it that she’s supposed to do to Koman?”

“She’ll listen, Althalus, and when
she
listens,
Koman
won’t be able to hear anymore. It’s a very subtle sort of procedure.”

“But awful?”

“Very, very awful. That’s why Leitha needs you so desperately. Don’t scold her when she calls you ‘daddy.’ She’s crying out for help. Comfort her as much as you can.”

“In that dream you wished off on all of us, what the deuce was that shirt she was tearing apart?”

“That was Koman, love.”

“She’s going to rip him all to pieces? Isn’t that just a little gruesome?”

“Quite a bit worse than gruesome, love,” Dweia said sadly, “but it has to be done. Next we come to Bheid. ‘Illuminate’ might just be the most complicated word of the lot. Ultimately, Bheid’s going to expose Argan and his Scarlet Robes for what they really are—the priesthood of Daeva.”

“I didn’t see anything like that in the dream vision.”

“Then you weren’t watching, Althalus. What was I doing?”

“You brushed all the dust off the altar into your hand. Then you tossed it up into the air, and a breeze from the window blew it away.” He frowned. “But that window was Bheid in some peculiar way. That was the part that
really
confused me.”

“Bheid’s task is to ‘illuminate,’ Althalus, and that’s what windows are for. They let in light—but they
also
let a breeze come in. The dream turned Argan into dust, I tossed him up into the air, and the breeze that came through the window we call Bheid blew the dust that was Argan away. Look upon the dream vision I gave you as a metaphor.” She paused. “That is the most
useful
word. All
sorts
of things can be explained as metaphors.”

“In a nonmetaphorical sense, what’s
really
going to happen to Argan?”

“His body will lose its cohesion, and the tiny bits that were originally Argan will float in the air. Then the window we know as Bheid will let in a breeze. A good, stiff breeze clears the air and lets in the truth. That’s another kind of ‘illumination,’ isn’t it?”

“Will Argan ever come back together again?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“So Bheid kills again, right? He was just practicing when he killed Yakhag. His
real
task is to kill Argan. Why all this beating around the bush, Em? Why didn’t you just come right out and tell me that you want Bheid to murder Argan?”

Her green eyes narrowed, and she hissed at him.

He laughed delightedly. “Oh, I
do
love you, Em!” he declared, taking her in his arms and affectionately nuzzling at the side of her neck.

She suddenly giggled almost girlishly and tried to pull away and to hunch up her shoulder to cover her neck. “Please don’t do that, Althalus,” she said.

“Why not?” he asked with wide-eyed innocence.

“Because it tickles, that’s why.”

“Are you ticklish, Em?”

“We’ll discuss that some other time.”

He grinned at her slyly. “I can hardly wait,” he said, laughing.

C H A P T E R     F O R T Y

B
rother Bheid looked distinctly uncomfortable in the ornate chair in Exarch Aleikon’s former office. “Do I really have to use this room, Althalus?” he asked a bit plaintively after they’d been in Maghu for about a week.

Althalus shrugged. “Not if it bothers you, Bheid. What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s too luxurious. I’m trying to recruit priests for an order that’s supposed to take a vow of poverty. This isn’t really the place for that.”

“Select another room, then. How’s the recruiting coming along?”

“Not too well, really,” Bheid admitted. “Most of the applicants still believe that joining the clergy is an easy road to wealth and power. As soon as I tell them what’s going to be expected of them, they lose interest. The ones who keep smiling and nodding are usually Brown Robes in disguise. Aleikon’s doing his best to infiltrate my order, but Leitha’s been weeding his people out for me. When we get to the bottom of it, though, it’s a good day when I manage to get three acceptable candidates.”

“I think you might have to start raiding seminaries, Bheid,” Althalus suggested. “Catch them when they’re still young and idealistic.”

The door opened, and Leitha stood a bit hesitantly in the doorway. “Are you busy?” she asked.

“Not noticeably,” Bheid said. “The word seems to be getting around that when I say ‘poverty,’ I mean just that. Come in.”

Leitha entered and crossed the large room. “Is there some way for you to block out the eavesdroppers, Daddy?” she whispered to Althalus. “Aleikon’s got several people hidden behind the walls of this place. They’re reporting every word back to him.”

“We should have expected that, I guess,” Althalus observed. He frowned, roving back through the pages of the Book. “This might turn the trick,” he muttered.

“Why not ask Dweia?” Leitha suggested.

“I’d like to see if I can find one on my own,” Althalus replied. Then he said, “
Kadh-leu,
” waving one hand in the air.

“Kadh-leu”?
Dweia’s voice echoed incredulously in his mind.

I have trouble with negatives, Em,
he admitted.
I can usually come up
with the right word when I want to tell somebody to
do
something. Telling him
not
to do it gets a little confusing. Did it work?

Well, in a way. Aleikon’s spies will still hear you, but they won’t pay any
attention to what you’re saying—or to what anybody else says, for that matter.
They’re going to be a little strange from now on.

All priests are strange. No offense intended, Bheid.

“There’s something else,” Leitha told him. “Aleikon isn’t too happy about what Emdahl and Yeudon rammed down his throat back in the House, so he’s hiding many of his Brown Robes among the general population of Maghu—in disguise, of course. He hasn’t advised Prince Marwain that Brother Bheid’s taking over in Perquaine yet. I don’t think it’s very far off, though. Marwain’s not the brightest fellow in the world, I guess, and Aleikon’s made a career out of manipulating him. He seems to be fairly sure he can persuade Marwain to
pretend
to accept the Grey Robes, but as soon as Bheid’s eliminated Argan and put down the peasant revolt, Aleikon plans to have Marwain march back into Maghu, resume his former position, stamp out the Grey Robe order—vigorously—and hand Perquaine back to the Brown Robes.”

“They want me to pull their irons out of the fire, and then they come back and get rid of me, I suppose?” Bheid asked bleakly.

“Why don’t we get rid of
them
first?” Althalus suggested.

“I’m not too interested in general murder, Althalus.”

“That isn’t what I had in mind, Brother Bheid,” Althalus said with a wicked grin. “Maybe it’s time for Exarch Aleikon and Prince Marwain to take a little trip.”

“Oh?” Bheid said. “Where do you plan to send them?”

“Somewhere a lot farther away than just across the border into western Treborea. I think we might prefer it for them to be far enough away that they’ll be very old before they reach Maghu again. Let’s gather up the rest of the children and go home. Emmy can use the windows to help us find a new residence for Aleikon and Marwain—the far side of the moon, maybe.”

———

“Why not just kill them?” Gher asked when they reached the House. “That’s the easiest way to get bad people out from underfoot, isn’t it?”

“Have you been talking with this boy again, Althalus?” Dweia asked accusingly.

“Not recently, Em,” Althalus replied. “Gher can come up with ideas without too much help from me. All
I
really want to do is put those two so far away that they won’t come back for fifty or sixty years.”

“I think Dhweria might be the place you’re looking for, pet.”

“Where’s Dhweria?”

“It’s on beyond the east coast of Plakand.”

“Plakand has a coast?” Eliar asked. “I thought it was just grassland that just went on forever.”

“Nothing goes on forever, Eliar,” Dweia told him. “The world’s a globe—a round ball. Anyway, the east coast of Plakand is about a thousand miles from Kherdon. Dhweria’s a very large island a couple thousand miles from that coast.”

“What’s it like?” Bheid asked.

“Very much like Hule—primeval forest with enormous trees and lots of wild animals.”

“No people?” Gher asked.

“Oh, there are people there,” she replied, “but Aleikon and Marwain won’t be able to talk with them, since the people there wouldn’t understand what they’re saying.”

“Are they stupid or something?” Gher asked.

“No. They speak a different language, that’s all.”

“People talk is people talk, Emmy,” the boy objected. “Dogs talk with bow-wows; birds talk with tweet-tweets; and people talk with words. Everybody knows that.”

“No, Gher,” she said gently. “Actually, there are dozens of different human languages. Maybe hundreds.”

“That’s silly!”

“ ‘Silly’ is part of the definition of humans, Gher. Anyway, the island’s a bit larger than Treborea, and it’s all one vast forest. The people there are very primitive—stone tools, animal-skin clothes, and very little in the way of farming.”

“No boats?” Althalus asked.

“Rafts are about all.”

“It might be quite difficult for two men to row a raft across two thousand miles of open water,” Andine suggested.

“Almost impossible, dear,” Dweia agreed. “That’s the main reason I suggested Dhweria. Aleikon’s a churchman, and Marwain’s a noble. Neither of them know anything about tools, so they’d never be able to build a real boat. If we put them there, that’s where they’ll stay—permanently.”

“We’ll miss them something awful, though, won’t we?” Gher smirked.

“We’ll just have to be brave about it, I suppose.” Leitha sighed in false resignation.

“I’m pretty brave, Leitha,” Gher told her. “If I grit my teeth real hard, I can probably stand it.”