Count Scar - SA (10 page)

I whirled away from him then, not waiting for his answer. It was such an appealing explanation that I only wished I could believe it.

Chapter Four ~ Melchior

Chapter Four ~ Melchior

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Arriving once more within the familiar walls of the priory after several years' absence, I was surprised to find my spirits rising almost as if I'd come home. I, who had been so eager to leave this
place, that seemed too much within the worldly influence of Duke Argave's nearby court, for isolation and study at the Mother House! I was, however, disappointed to discover upon asking that
Brother Nuage was no longer to be found there. His notes had been of little help so far, and I'd been hoping to talk with him.

"No, he left over a week ago for our new daughter house up toward Haulbe," Prior Belthesar told me. "They've been growing quite a bit of late and wanted someone to teach divination to the
novices. If you'd still been with us, I'd have recommended you! He was happy to go; said he would be glad of something new to do in a different place."

The bell rang for the office then, and the evening meal followed. Afterwards, Prior Belthesar asked me and a few of the brothers I'd known best during my earlier time in the priory to come sit
with him a while and take a little wine.

"So, Brother Melchior, you have left the Mother House now and are out with us serving in the world once more," said one of them, a fat worldly brother I'd always rather disliked. "Capettanus to
a count, forsooth! How does your new place of service suit you? Are you able to keep up your magical studies amidst all the demands of life at a court? I know you,are very much devoted to
them."

"I am finding some time for those, Brother," I told him. "Count Caloran does not keep a 'court' in anything like the style our lord the duke does. You will find no velvet gloves or crystal
fountains at Peyrefixade. Stone and cold steel is more to his liking."

"He was formerly a soldier to the emperor of the Allemanns, I believe." Trust Prior Belthesar to possess good information; he'd likely had this from the duke himself. "Is he a hard sort of man?"

"He can be. I saw him dismiss a thieving servant to certain poverty and degradation the first day I was in his house, then he rode down into the village two days later and hanged an adulterous
couple. He ate a hearty supper in the hall both those nights."

"Like our lord duke then, but without the polish," laughed the fat brother. "Poor Brother Melchior! This doesn't sound the sort of man in whose service you'll be very comfortable."

"Are you in fact finding this service difficult for your strength to bear, my son?" Prior Belthesar asked me.

"Any service to which one is called should not be too much for one's strength, my father." I saw the fat brother looking at me with open skepticism and felt I must say more. "I begin to discover
that Count Caloran is an interesting man, a man of some character. I do not believe he wholly trusts either me or our Order, for instance, yet he seems to approve of how I am going about my
duties as his capellanus. I think he is willing to suspend final judgment until he sees what we are for himself. He is fiercely determined to discharge his office as count properly, and all his actions
are bent toward that single goal. But he is not stupid in his singlemindedness. Also, I am finding many opportunities to improve my own spiritual discipline at Peyrefixade. Being solely
responsible for the religious welfare of an entire castle and all its people, conducting the divine offices entirely by myself every day at dawn, have been good." I paused in surprise; I hadn't realized
all of this myself until I heard myself say it.

"Excellent, my son." Prior Belthesar gave a slow smile over his wine cup. "Our Order's mission is to be active in the world for human good as priests and magic workers as much as to deepen
knowledge of the magic arts and pursue religious devotions within the cloister. You have just spent a considerable period in withdrawal and study. It is well that you are now out in the world
again to put all you have learned to use among ordinary men and women. I felt sure you would be — goodness, what can be the cause of this commotion? Brother Melchior, it sounds to me very
much as if someone is calling your name."

At a nod from the prior, the brother nearest the door slipped out to see what was happening. He returned at once, accompanied by a pair of the duke's armed guardsmen, a scandalous sight in the
prior's private parlor. But more shocking still was the news they brought.

"My God: Count Caloran attacked!" I blurted. "Lord Thierri must have been behind this!"

"No, Father, they are saying Lord Thierri saved him."

I shook my head; nothing in this seemed to make sense. But my duty at the moment was clear. "Is the count seriously injured, does he require extreme unction?"

"No, but our master the duke thought it proper that you be informed at once."

"The assassin is dead, you say. But do they have his weapon?" Prior Belthesar asked the men.

"Yes, my lord Prior."

His shrewd eyes went to me, and I knew at once what he was thinking. "I — I shall need the appropriate materials, my father. My own are at Peyrefixade. Lodestone, and powdered copper, and —

"

"I hope I still know what is required for such a problem, even if I have never mastered that particular branch of magic to the same extent as yourself," he replied. The fat brother was sent off,
huffing noisily, to return with a fine ivory chest in his hands. Prior Belthesar took it and presented it to me. "This is the very diviners box with which you perfected your own studies during your
time here, if I am not mistaken. Now let's be off."

"You are coming too, my father?"

"This involves Duke Argave as well as your count, my son. Lest you forget, I serve as his capellanus, and his chief Magian as well."

The shrubbery of the duke's garden appeared almost black in the flaring light of the flambeaux as we hurried out along the marble paths toward the crowd of elegant people gathered near the back
wall. They parted before us, and I saw the duke and the captain of his guard standing over a contorted body. Another guard stood by, quietly holding Lord Thierri by his fashionably broad sleeve.

Then my eye found Count Caloran. He was standing by the wall with the scarred side of his face turned away from the light, the fine clothes that had earlier looked so strange on his hard soldiers
body covered in blood. A shock went through me when I saw that his man Bruno was binding a bandage around one of his arms.

"Just a little nick in the meat, Father Melchior; I've had scores worse from friends on the practice ground," he muttered as I reached him. "I didn't even notice it until the excitement was past."

Without pausing to reply, I snatched the diviner's box from the guardsman who had been carrying it for me. Bruno and Count Caloran stared as I took out the large opal and the silver speculum
that had been stowed, Deo gratias, exactly where they were supposed to be by whichever student or instructor had last used the box. I placed the opal upon the area of the wound and positioned the
speculum close above it, then called to one of the guards to bring a torch and hold it close. I had to shut my eyes for a moment, but then the words and phrases to form the linkages came. When I
looked again I sagged in relief to see the opal and the silver mirror both shining as clear as before. "Hmm, good," said Prior Belthesar, who had stepped up beside me unnoticed. "And quickly done,
too, my son."

"It is not unheard of for the daggers of assassins to be poisoned in these parts, Count Caloran," I heard him explaining a moment later, as if at a distance. I had been forced to put out my hand and
lean against the wall momentarily; doing the magic so rapidly had left me feeling dizzy and sick. "But there's no poison here."

Bruno was staring at the opal and mirror with wide eyes, while the count looked interested but also skeptical. But there would be no time to explain the art of detecting poisons now. The captain
of the duke's guard had stepped up next to Prior Belthesar, holding out a cloth. Upon it was a dagger that still bore a few traces of blood. One of Duke Argave's servants appeared next to him,
holding out a goblet of honeyed wine. I drank it gratefully; I was going to need strength.

I had performed the difficult bit of grammery now required many times in practice, first with teachers and more recently on my own. But tonight would be the first time to do it in earnest before
an important audience. Composing my features to a look of professional calm, I motioned for the captain to lay the blade on the marble path, then turned my face away while I softly murmured
the appropriate prayers. For this to work, my mind must be wholly composed and my spirit motivated only to seek pure truth rather than being bent on any malice or revenge. When I looked
again Prior Belthesar had taken the articles I required from the box: a piece of lodestone, a phial of powdered copper, a bunch of dried mistletoe, and a length of strong silk thread. He left the kit's
own finding knife in its satin niche; for the present task the weapon that had actually been used in the attempt would be far more efficacious as a tracer.

I could see both Count Caloran and the duke watching closely as I knelt and laid these items on a cloth beside the dagger, so I began to speak while I worked, describing each step in the procedure as
if I were instructing a class of novices. "First we must find the balance point of this blade," I said, holding it on my palm, then across two fingers, and finally balanced on just one. "Now I bind
the thread around both dagger and mistletoe—" I made a loop and slipped it around the spot—so that the knife hangs flat in the air, free to swing and twist. Next I stroke the blade with the
lodestone seven times toward the point as I speak these words:

'Armum ferri audi me

Auxilium fer nobis

Ostend locum originis celeriter

Rogamus te ut ducas.'

"Last, I shake a little of the copper dust into the mistletoe, hold the blade suspended in the air, and concentrate all my attention on it." The knife twisted back and forth a number of times, so
many I began to feel sick discouragement. But then I detected the lines of the magic forming themselves, becoming ordered. The knife came to a stop, pointing toward a spot further along the wall.

A fine line of copper dust slid down the blade and flew from its point, glinting in the light of the flambeaux. "There," I declared. "The assassin came over the wall there."

"That's right, sir, we found marks on the wall, and some of the vines are torn free just at that spot," the captain told Duke Argave. Prior Belthesar asked some of the guards to fetch flambeaux
and hold them high by the wall so we would see their light when we came to the same spot outside. A moment later I found myself leading a grim party back through the courtyard and around
into the street outside. Along with the prior, our group included Count Caloran, Bruno, the duke and his captain, and several guards with torches. The duke had evidently decided Lord Thierri
should also accompany us, for he walked between two guards with a far from eager expression. As we reached the gate, several waiting attendants handed Count Caloran and his men their swords.

The path outside was dark and quite deserted. When we reached the spot where the light of several flames flared above the wall, I stopped our group with a sharp gesture. My mind was now fully
locked into the lines of the magic, and it seemed not at all strange to command both a count and a duke. I stepped forward to cast a little of the copper dust on the ground, passed the knife over it
three times, then called one of the guards to bring a torch. Outlined in gleaming powder we could see two sets of footprints of very different sizes coming to the spot, but only one—the larger set

—leading away.

"So, he had help getting over my wall," said the duke.

"Yes." Count Caloran bent over the tracks. "You can see right here where big-foot stood to boost smaller-feet. This path is hard, but this one set of big-foot's prints has actually sunk into the
ground. We'd never have seen the others without this magic of Brother Melchior's, though. Look, you can see how big-feet stood shuffling about for a while, then ran with long strides back the
way they'd come, probably as soon as he was sure his friend had failed and would not be returning." He looked at me with that quirked smile I'd seen a few times since joining his retinue, which
looked pleasant on the unmarked half of his face and bitter on the scarred side. "I can see I've neglected to utilize some of the talents you could put at my command, Father Melchior. That shall be
remedied."

"That would be wise, Count," said the duke. "But now I should like to know how the bigger man managed to stand here undisturbed for so long without my sentry finding him. Brother
Melchior, can you use your dagger and bright dust to trace these two footpads back to where they came from?"

"I won't need to use the copper anymore." I held the knife out on the silk thread, absolutely confident now. The blade swung twice, then pointed along the lines of footprints as steadily as if I were
gripping it tightly in my hand. "This blade knows the way by which it came. It will lead us."

We had scarcely made twenty paces when we came upon a dark form near the path. The captain shoved past me with a curse, then muttered, "Sorry, Father." The torchlight revealed a man
wearing the duke's livery, his throat cut, the moonlight reflecting in his sightless eyes. Prior and I crossed ourselves and murmured a quick prayer for the dead as the captain bent over the body,
then turned to the duke. "It's Pierrou all right, my lord. The poor bast— fellow!"