Part 6 (2/2)
”I have no idea. You must go to your mother and ask her advice. G.o.ds have never been my particular field of study.”
”But she will reproach me,” Ermenwyr said in a stricken voice.
”Even so.” Shadlek nodded. ”Run along now, my child.”
Miserably Ermenwyr went to his mother's bower. It was peaceful there; white rosemary flowered thick, bees droned in the still air. Inside, the sunlight filtered soft through the white flower petals: a place of utter calm, though Ermenwyr was far from tranquil as he beheld his lady mother.
The Saint knelt at her writing desk, composing a letter to her disciples. Her youngest grandchild slept near her in a willow basket.
Ermenwyr wondered nervously whether the baby was one of his. ”H'em! Mother,” he said, kneeling for her blessing.
”My child,” she responded, placing her hand on his head. She sighed, and when he looked up he saw she was sadly regarding him. She knew exactly what was wrong with him and how he'd got that way, too. There was no fooling her.
”Oh, my son, you have done another wicked thing.”
”Yes, Mother, I'm afraid so,” Ermenwyr said meekly.
”I did not form a child with no heart in my womb, I know; how are you so cold and faithless? Now your behavior has set a wrathful G.o.d on your back.”
”What has this G.o.d got to be angry about, anyway?” muttered Ermenwyr. ”I was good to the poor girl. I gave her a pleasant night and ever so much money!”
”That is not the point,” said the Saint. ”You mocked her in your heart, which was cruel. But you have paid for it, my darling, and this time it's more than your father or I can mend. The girl opened a door to let in a G.o.d. You stood in that doorway and so the G.o.d moves through you, and all against your will you must do his Will.”
Ermenwyr tugged at his beard in panic. ”But what must I do to be free?” he cried. The baby woke up and began to wail. The Saint hushed and comforted it.
”Make reparation to that poor girl. She gave her body to the G.o.d in good faith; he intends to give her something in return. You must find out what it is, and bring it to her. Only then will the G.o.d leave you.”
”But how will I know what the G.o.d wants?” Ermenwyr pleaded.
”You could break the habit of a lifetime and pray,” said his mother. ”Even your father prays, when it suits his purpose. No, don't look at me like that, with your eyes popping out of your head. You don't have a headache.”
”Yes, I do!” wept Ermenwyr, but he hid his face in his hands.
”You're a sorcerer,” the Saint reminded him. ”Do a casting, if you can't bring yourself to meditate.
My child, what will become of you? With all the disciplines to which you have applied yourself....”
You can imagine the rest. Covered in gloom, psychic as well as spiritual, Ermenwyr went to his study and prepared. In the magic mirrors, in the seeing spheres, in the curved surfaces of the retorts and alembics, the G.o.d's reflection glared thunderous.
Ermenwyr lit candles. He cast spells. The room filled with unearthly blue light.
The light emanated from three objects, in a corner of the casting chamber. Ermenwyr peered through the brilliance to see what they were, and cried out in real pain.
Desolation Rose of the Aronikai sat watching storm clouds cross the sky.
She heard a cry from the gate; Ermenwyr standing there with a bundle in his arms.
She scrambled down, over missing bricks, and ran to let him in. The rain hadn't helped the gate.
When at last he was inside and had caught his breath, Ermenwyr said: ”I suppose you didn't expect to see me again. But, as it happens, I've got something to deliver.
”On Winter's Eve, as I slept, a G.o.d appeared to me. He said: 'Go thou, dig beneath the first black stone that thou findest in thy path. Take what thou shalt find there under to Desolation Rose of the Aronikai, for she has pleased me.'
”I rose and went out and dug beneath the first black stone I saw and, would you believe it, there was an ancient chest with some things in it-” Ermenwyr set down and unwrapped his bundle, ”which I thought I had better bring you -”
Desolation Rose looked on in wonder as he took out a small sword, a crystal pendant on a chain, and a flask of white gla.s.s. Ermenwyr held up the sword.
”This sword,” he said, ”is magical. It brings the strength of five warriors to its wielder.”
He gave her the sword and took up the pendant.
”This pendant,” he said, ”is also magical. It wards off danger and brings wealth to its wearer.”
He gave her the pendant and held up the flask.
”This flask,” he said, ”as you might have guessed, is magical too. The inexhaustible cordial within has great healing powers.”
Desolation Rose took the flask, crying: ”But how do you know these things?”
”I'm a sorcerer, after all,” said Ermenwyr in some irritation. ”I can vouch for their puissance.”
Which was certainly true, for he himself had crafted them, with many hours of painstaking labor. He had been particularly proud of them, too.
Desolation Rose swept the sword through the air. It balanced to her hand as if it had been made for her (which it had not been).
”I gave myself to the G.o.d, as I said I'd do. Did you know that, sorcerer? And I doubted him, afterward.”
”Never doubt the G.o.d,” said Ermenwyr, solemn as a high priest. ”He honors bargains.”
Desolation Rose arranged the gifts on the cracked pavement and looked at them.
”With these things, all the fortunes of my house will be restored,” she said. ”Now our enemies may tremble. Great is the G.o.d, blessed is his name!”
”Amen!” said Ermenwyr ruefully.
Desolation Rose took up the gifts and went running in to see what the cordial could do for her uncle.
After that Desolation Rose became Fire Rose, the Fire Rose of the songs, and of course the story is well known how she avenged her family, brought her enemies to ignominious and horrible ends, and served her G.o.d bravely through many glorious adventures.
But Ermenwyr went back to his father's house; and the first thing he did there was look in his mirror.
There he stood, himself and no other. So great was his joy and his relief that he hurried off and tumbled one of the housemaids.
Ermenwyr was thenceforth prudent, and never again impersonated a G.o.d; save once at a costume ball in Troon, when he seduced the vice-regent's sister. But she knew perfectly well who was under the mask....
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