The Education of Brother Thaddius and other tales of DemonWars (The DemonWars Saga) (13 page)

He paused there and let the murmurs roll through the hall, and surely they were lessened because of the amazing exhibition the brothers had witnessed in the arena. Still, though, they remained, a buzz of anger just below the surface in many of the gathered brothers.

“My first act as Father Abbot, though, will be to declare a full inventory of the Ring Stones. We have thousands in our possession – Avelyn, who will be sainted, brought back nearly two thousand alone!”

A few scattered claps echoed about the hall.

“It was said to be the greatest haul of sacred stones ever returned,” Braumin went on, careful not to overstep too greatly by naming the process. “And indeed, for one man, the feat was beyond impressive – yet more proof that Avelyn walked with God. But there was a time, brothers…”

He paused and shook his head and sighed for effect, then said cryptically, “We will discuss this at length in the coming days. You will come to see, as I have learned, that much of what we have been taught is not the full, not the only, truth, of our sacred heritage.”

He had to pause again and hold up his hands to quiet the uneasy rumblings that began to echo, more loudly now.

“You will see,” he promised. “And this, too, we shall debate long into the nights, I promise. And in those nights, I will show to you why another will ascend behind Avelyn, why Master Jojonah will find his sainthood in the flames foul Markwart set beneath him!”

Even Viscenti looked at him in shocked, stunned, horrified even, that Braumin had moved so boldly, so quickly! He hadn’t even put on the robes of the Father Abbot yet!

“What admission of failure and complicity is this?” demanded one of the Masters of St. Honce – speaking for Ohwan, of course.

“Our failures are already known, and now better admitted,” the Father Abbot insisted.

“He was your friend, but that is not an impetus for canonization!” the man shouted back.

Braumin smiled as warmly as he could manage. “He was my teacher. He was the guidepost for all of us who defied the demon Markwart, and Marcalo De’Unnero after him. I nominate him – indeed, I do so right now! And I will champion him, as I champion Avelyn, these two men who, by God’s wisdom and grace, guided us through our darkest hours. It was the spirit of Jojonah, I say, that led Brother Francis out onto the fields to minister to those afflicted with the Rosy Plague, an action that cost him his life, as he expected and as he accepted! It was the spirit of Jojonah surging within the body of Brother Romeo Mullahy, who threw himself from the Barbacan Shrine of Avelyn to let his persecutors see the foul truth of their journey!”

He paused again, expected a retort, but none came forth. Bolstered, and really with nothing to lose, Father Abbot Braumin pressed on.

“The gemstones will be used to alleviate the suffering of the people, brethren or not – indeed, Abellican or not! A brother possessing a soul stone who ignores the pain of a man of Behren or Alpinador, does so by turning his back on God.

“And yes, there are now many sisters among us, most young, some who have served in convents for decades. They will train, we will train, and we will go forth and reclaim every abbey, every chapel, and every heart for St. Abelle!”

He slammed his fist on the table once more, indicating that his speech, and this gathering, was at its end, and he turned and left through the back door of the room, the one leading to the private quarters of the Father Abbot, Masters Viscenti, Dellman and Abbot Haney at his side.

They left to rousing cheers.

“A fine beginning, Father Abbot,” Haney congratulated.

“But a long way to go,” Braumin replied, and he was glad when Haney put a hand on his shoulder, in full support.

And bringing with him, Braumin believed and prayed, the full support of new King Midalis.

*****

“The community is greater than the individual,” Father Abbot Braumin said to an agitated Brother Thaddius. “Is that not what Pagonel preaches? And is it not true?”

“This is not the Order I joined, Father Abbot,” Thaddius insisted.

“But it is indeed.”

Thaddius stared at him incredulously. “For years, I studied the ways of St.-Mere-Abelle. None were more prepared than I when first I entered these gates!”

“Beware your pride, young brother. Perhaps I will tell you the tale of Avelyn Desbris, that you might find humility. Perhaps I will tell you of Avelyn’s first great demonstration of Ring Stone power, one that shocked the Masters and Father Abbot. He was no older than you are now, and yet
none in the Church, not even Marcalo De’Unnero, could have matched the fireball he created over the bay, and that after leaping from the roof and walking across the water!”

Brother Thaddius seemed to labor for his breath. The inclusion of De’Unnero in the lesson (particularly since De’Unnero did not stand as the pinnacle of Ring Stone affinity in the days of Avelyn) had stolen the young man’s bluster, as it had surely been added as a subtle warning from the Father Abbot.

“I knew the ways of the Abellican Order. I cherished the ritual, the solemnity, the…”

“A dragon flew through our great window,” Father Abbot Braumin reminded. “A great battle was fought about our gates and within the monastery. You witnessed the carnage and destruction. We cannot go back. Not now.”

“I know,” Brother Thaddius said quietly, “but…” He ended with a profound sigh.

“You do not value your training with the Jhesta Tu? My understanding is that his techniques have strengthened you in your use of the sacred Ring Stones.”

“Women,” Thaddius spat. “St.-Mere-Abelle is thick with them!”

“I would expect that a young man would not object so strenuously.”

“Father Abbot!”

“Forgive me, young brother,” Braumin said, and he tried not to laugh.

“Tradition,” Thaddius said, shaking his head. “The continuity of ritual and rite through the passing centuries…without it, I am ungrounded. I am lost and floating free of that which brought to me spiritual joy and eternal hope. We have brothers, and sisters, among us who cannot coax a flicker of light from a diamond. And never will they, yet we name them as Abellican monks!”

“I do not disagree,” Braumin replied in all seriousness. “My crude attempt at humor notwithstanding. Brother Thaddius, do you understand how profoundly the De’Unneran Heresy wounded our Order, and the kingdom? There is a void of power in both, with King Midalis trying to tame the local lords to fealty, and with half of our chapels and abbeys empty! We are without many options. The Samhaists have been seen about Vanguard, and indeed even within Honce-the-Bear. You have heard the tale of Sister Mary Ann, no doubt.

“And the misery of the common folk cannot be overstated. They need us. They need us to keep clear the way to the Barbacan and the Covenant of Avelyn. They need us to heal their wounds and cure their sicknesses. They need us, and King Midalis, to keep Entel and the Mantis Arm secure from Behrenese pirates and powrie raiders.

“And we are not secure enough in our own institutions to offer that aid. Goblins still roam the land. Powries roam the land. De’Unnerans roam the land! There is fear of the Rosy Plague! Without those basic securities, our words to the common folk ring hollow. They need us, young brother, to coax their spirits to a place of blessed divinity, and they will not hear our sermons when all we can offer to them are words.”

“Pagonel is not of our Order, yet he dictates…”

“He offers advice, at my bidding,” Braumin said, more forcefully, demanding Thaddius’s full attention. “And I am Father Abbot. Do you dispute that?”

“No, Father Abbot, of course not,” the young man said and lowered his eyes.

“The community is greater than the individual, and you are called upon to be an important member of our community, Brother Thaddius. I know not why Pagonel selected you as the Disciple of Avelyn for his adventuring
legionem in primo
. But it is a great honor.”

“One I share with three women,” Thaddius replied rather sharply. “With one who cannot use the Ring Stones at all, and another too young to even enter the Order, even if she were a man!”

“You are among the most important Brothers of Blessed Abelle,” Braumin insisted. “More than most of the remaining Masters, yet you are only a few years into your training. If you are successful, if your mission is successful, it will help me to chart a strong course…”

“One apart from tradition!” the distressed young man dared to interrupt.

“No!” Father Abbot Braumin yelled in his face. He grabbed Thaddius by his skinny shoulders and forced him to square up and look him in the eye. “No,” he repeated, more softly. “Much of what we have come to believe as tradition does not date to the earliest days of the Church. I do not blaspheme the message of St. Abelle. Never that! You must trust me, young brother. Everything I do, I do with purpose to save the Church from what it had become under the perversion of Dalebert Markwart and the Heresy of Marcalo De’Unnero.”

That elicited a wince.

“He killed people,” Father Abbot Braumin said quietly. “He murdered innocent people, thinking it for the greater good. You said you were prepared to enter our Order, but have you not studied the last two decades of our history? Do you not know the story of Brother Francis, who gave his life administering to the sick? Or of Brother Mullahy, who killed himself rather than renounce his faith? Or of Master Jojonah!”

Brother Thaddius wore a curious expression as tears began to flow down the Father Abbot’s face. “Oh, Jojonah, my teacher,” the Father Abbot went on. “He showed me the truth of our traditions, and that many of our practices were not traditions at all!”

“I do not know of any time when women were allowed into the Order in great numbers,” Thaddius dared to say.

“True,” the Father Abbot admitted. “But have you ever known of any person more deserving than Jilseponie Wyndon? She would be your Mother Abbess now if she had accepted our offer. Not a brother in the Church would have questioned it, and none, not one, would have voted for anyone other than Jilseponie if her name had been on the ballot.”

Thaddius wore a horrified look.

“Do you doubt me? Do you doubt that Jilseponie brought down Marcalo De’Unnero and Father Abbot Markwart? Do you doubt that Jilseponie served as the shining light to our Order in the time of the plague?”

Thaddius shrugged, but seemed as if he had no more arguments to offer.

“And so we honor her by allowing women into the Order. Perhaps it will work out for the betterment of us all. Perhaps not – in that case, it will be a temporary thing, out of necessity. Pagonel’s order is not unlike our own, and he insists that half of it is comprised of women, equally
so, and at all ranks of achievement and honor.

“I need you, young brother,” Father Abbot Braumin said earnestly, and he gave the thin man a slight shake. “And I trust in you.”

He turned about and went to his desk, and returned a moment later bearing a small pouch. He moved to a table off to the side and carefully upended the contents.

The sparkling gems took Brother Thaddius’s breath away. They were all there, it seemed, garnet and malachite, bloodstone, moonstone, serpentine, and a large ruby, and larger soul stone!

“These I entrust to you, young brother,” Father Abbot Braumin explained. “You will take them to St. Gwendolyn by the Sea, and use them at your discretion. You, young brother, are the leader of this
legionem in primo
, and this band, your band, is critical to the rebuilding of the Abellican Order.”

He wasn’t sure if Thaddius was even listening, for the man’s eyes were surely glowing as he looked upon the precious cache.

“Go ahead,” Braumin bade him, and he slid the ruby Thaddius’s way. The young man lifted the gemstone in trembling fingers and clutched it tight to his chest, closing his eyes.

Sometime later, Thaddius looked at the Father Abbot, and now he was crying, overwhelmed.

“Never have I felt such…purity,” he admitted. “The depths of this ruby…”

“Be sure that your serpentine shield is full and strong, and encompassing your allies, if ever you choose to use it,” Braumin warned. “Your power is considerable, and that stone will hold all that you can impart to it. Take care or you will curl the skin from your own bones!”

“Yes, Father Abbot,” Thaddius said, though it seemed as if he could hardly speak.

“Have you anything more to say to me, young brother?”

“The community is greater than the individual,” Thaddius replied, and the Father Abbot nodded, contented.

Braumin nodded, and looked up as the door opened and Viscenti entered. “To the roof with Master Viscenti,” the Father Abbot explained to Brother Thaddius. “There you may properly measure these sacred stones and your own power.”

The Father Abbot nodded when the pair were gone, then went to his desk, collected a large backpack, and set off for Pagonel’s training room. He found the mystic with the three young sisters, preparing packs for the road. They stood as one when he entered, dipping a bow of respect.

“Are they Abellican sisters or Jhesta Tu?” Father Abbot Braumin said with a lighthearted laugh.

“The bow is a sign of respect,” said Pagonel.

“Then I should return it,” Braumin said, and he did, to Pagonel and then to each of the startled young women in turn.

“Your exhibition has bought me time and great political capital,” he explained to them. “Had you failed in your fight, then all of this, your admission into the Order, the acceptance of those who show no affinity to the stones, the alteration of training traditions – all of it – would have been erased. We would limp along, vulnerable for decades, as those who would weaken the Order of Abelle eagerly watched.

“I believe in these changes,” Braumin went on. “I believe in you, and your worthiness as sisters of my Order. If I did not, I would never allow this journey to St. Genwdolyn to commence.”

He looked to the tall Diamanda, the Disciple of St. Bruce. “Why did you join in the convent of St.-Mere-Abelle?”

“I was an orphan, Father Abbot. The nuns took me in and raised me as if I had been born to them.”

“Is it habit, then, or belief?”