"We might make a tour of the village," Silvas suggested after a moment. "There must be work for both of us."
"There is," Brother Paul agreed. "I've already done the Requiem for those who died, but there is more to do." They left the church together.
"I hope it won't discomfort you if I ride," Silvas said. "I find myself quite spent after the battle."
"I can see. I don't mind. As long as you don't mind waiting for me when your steed gets too far ahead."
Silvas smiled. "Bay is too thoughtful to go galloping off."
They made a very slow circuit of the village, stopping wherever there was a call for their services-at nearly half of the cottages they came to. Silvas and Brother Paul provided what help they could. There were injuries. Silvas dealt with the most serious. Brother Paul took care of the rest, and the friar had his spiritual balm to offer as well, something the wizard couldn't provide.
The villagers were already working to repair their homes, and to rebuild the fire-razed cottage whose inhabitants had escaped. More serious were the damages to the gardens and fields. Scant as the year's harvest would have been, it would be even scanter now.
"We shall need to beg the bishop for help to get through this winter," Brother Paul said softly. "It won't be the first time, I admit."
"If we make it through this crisis," Silvas replied.
"The Lord willing," Brother Paul said.
They were no more than halfway through their circuit when one of Master Ian's lads ran toward them from the inn. "There's a rider a-coming 'cross the valley," the boy shouted. He half turned to point without stopping.
Silvas had to walk a dozen paces to get a view of the rider. He focused his telesight. The distant rider was moving at an awkward trot.
"This might be your messenger returning," he suggested.
Brother Paul nodded. "It might, though it would mean that Bishop Egbert did not keep him long."
"He'll need a few minutes yet to reach us," Silvas said. "We may have time for another stop or two."
– |The rider almost fell from his horse when he pulled up in front of Brother Paul and Silvas. He was panting so raggedly that he might have been doing the trotting instead of the horse.
"Easy, man," Brother Paul said, putting his hands on the man's shoulders to steady him. "Easy now."
"I have word from His Excellency," the messenger said, the words coming out one at a time, each on a gasping exhalation.
"Yes, but take a moment to collect yourself first."
"Perhaps a drink would help," Silvas said. He gestured to the boy from the inn. "Here, boy, take this copper to Master Ian and bring back a flagon of ale for this man." He tossed the coin and the boy caught it easily, turning to run back to the Boar and Bear.
"Thankee," the man said, starting to get his wind back. "I thankee much, Lord Wizard."
"There, you're doing better already," Silvas said. "Come over to this stump and sit while you're waiting for the ale."
The man seemed to collapse onto the stump more than sit.
"I've ridden hard these days," he said. His gaze moved toward the door of the Boar and Bear. The boy was already emerging, holding the earthenware mug in both hands.
"I gave the bishop your message, Vicar," the rider said.
Brother Paul nodded and said, "Bide a moment. Get a drink of Master Ian's ale in you first, Willam." The boy arrived with the mug. Willam took a long drink and then smacked his lips.
"His Excellency says he knows of the wizard Silvas," Willam said, looking from vicar to wizard and back.
"The bishop has communicated that to me already," Paul said. "But there was more?"
"Aye, more an' some. He gathered the cathedral chapter in solemn conclave." Willam said that sentence very slowly and carefully, as if he had rehearsed it repeatedly so he would make no mistakes. "He's comin' here himself, with such of the cathedral monks as he can bring, an' quick like." Willam paused for another drink. Silvas and Brother Paul looked at each other. Even before Willam continued, both could make an excellent guess at what else he would say.
"Bishop Egbert, he says there's great danger at hand, more'n a country vicar-beggin' yer pardon-could handle." Willam gave Brother Paul an apologetic look.
"I understand, Willam," the vicar said. "I know my limits. I am but an initiate of the Lesser Mysteries. Bishop Egbert is an adept of the Greater. That is as God has ordained it."
"Aye, Vicar." Willam shifted his mug to his left hand so he could cross himself. He finished the ale and set the mug on the stump next to him.
"We will have need for Bishop Egbert and the members of his retinue," Silvas said, speaking across Willam at Brother Paul. Silvas didn't know the bishop, but he knew that as an adept, a master of the Greater Mysteries, Bishop Egbert would be a magician of considerable ability… if nowhere near Silvas's level. And the bishop might understand some of what the wizard had experienced since coming to Mecq. Initiation to the Greater Mysteries of the White Brotherhood took a man beyond the limits of public dogma. He might even have answers for me, Silvas thought.
Master Ian came across the green. He held a small keg under one arm and three mugs in his free hand. Willam got up from the stump, and the innkeeper set the keg on it.
"It looked like ye might all have need of a drink," Master Ian said. "An' don' reach fer yer purse, Master Wizard, not for this 'un. I got my lads settin' up fer the whole village after last night." He set the mugs on the stump and started filling them. The first went to Silvas, the second to Brother Paul. Then Master Ian refilled Willam's mug before he filled one for himself.
"Your health, Master Ian," Silvas said, raising his mug to the innkeeper before he drank.
"An' yours, sir," Master Ian replied. He took a long drink, then said, "You might want to drink deep. We have us company comin' down from the hill." He pointed with his mug.
Silvas and the others looked toward Mecq's castle. There was traffic on the road coming down. Silvas narrowed his gaze. Sir Eustace and Henry Fitz-Matthew rode in front. The two ladies behind them were Eleanora and Maria. A number of other people walked along behind, lagging more every minute.
"It looks like help is finally coming from another quarter," Silvas said, not bothering to disguise his lack of enthusiasm for that help.
Brother Paul gave the wizard a quick, sharp glance. "Likely they had their own damages to repair after the storm," he said. "The lightning was even more fierce up on the hill."
"Did Fitz-Matthew say how bad it was up there?" Silvas asked-very softly, turning so that he faced only the churchman.
"He said it was terrible," Brother Paul said. "The look of that was in his eyes."
"Like as not," Silvas said, holding back a sigh and letting the discussion die. I shouldn't be so quick to judge, he told himself. I let the man's style sway me. He quickly finished his ale and turned to set the empty mug on the stump.
"Best have another while you have the peace," Master Ian urged, refilling the tankard before Silvas could answer.
"My thanks, sir," Silvas said, toasting him again. "I find your thane difficult to deal with."
Master Ian did not reply.
– |"I expected to see you up on the hill before this," Sir Eustace said as he approached Silvas and the others.
"I thought it more important to take care of the most urgent needs of the people here first," Silvas replied. "Brother Paul and I have nearly finished our circuit. If you would care to join us? There is still plenty of work to be done to repair the ravages of the storm." Silvas mounted Bay, not so much because he still needed the horse to carry him about, but for the height advantage. Silvas felt stronger after his work in the village than he had before.
"There is work in my castle as well," Sir Eustace said. He turned to speak to Fitz-Matthew. "When our people catch up with us, put them to work here. You can see what remains to be done."
"Aye, lord," Fitz-Matthew said meekly.
"Vicar, what is left to see?" Sir Eustace said then, rather than addressing the wizard again.
"We were about to check the mill and then the cottages on this end." The friar gestured at the dozen houses on the south end of the village, away from the twin hills.
Eleanora and Maria reined in behind Sir Eustace then. He took no notice of their arrival. Silvas nodded to the ladies and took a moment to study their faces. Sir Eustace's wife looked very troubled. Eleanora would not meet Silvas's eyes, looking down, away, anything to avoid him. Silvas had no difficulty deciphering the change in her.
She might enjoy a little dalliance with a stranger of mystery and power, but she isn't ready for so much adventure, Silvas thought. He knew how he looked, haggard and probably a little angry. The residue of heavily used power would be with him, an odor as unmistakable as a horse's sweat. She has discovered that she has a much less adventurous spirit than she thought.
But Maria showed no such change. She met the wizard's stare with one even more intense. There was a flush of excitement about the girl that seemed almost sexual. Under Silvas's gaze she blushed deeply, but she resisted looking away for the longest time.
Silvas finally started Bay toward the mill. Sir Eustace stayed at his side, not too close. Brother Paul and Master Ian followed, and the ladies rode at the rear of the procession. Bay walked at almost a hesitation step to avoid putting a strain on the two men who were walking-and as a check against Sir Eustace's obvious impatience to hurry through this routine. Brother Paul provided a summary of the ills the village had suffered, the dead, the hurt, the damages.
"The men can't tell for certain yet, lord," Master Ian added, "but it looks as like we might lose one part in five of the harvest, perhaps more." Sir Eustace growled under his breath at that, but he didn't speak.
The completion of the tour took another half hour. The Eyler was two feet above the line of rocks that the villagers had laid across the riverbed during the early rain, falling toward that level now that most of the rain surge had passed. There were no serious damages to the last group of cottages, nor were there any injuries among the families that lived in them.
"We withstood the storm better than we might have, God be praised," Brother Paul said when they started back toward the church. "I feared it would be much worse."
"Bad enough," Sir Eustace said in his usual grumbling tones. He stared up at the wizard.
"It would have been worse without help," Silvas said, pitching his voice so that only Eustace would hear him. "The evil that struck in the night has been building here since your father took the cross. Perhaps longer."
"So you say," Sir Eustace replied almost as softly.
"It is my business to know such things," Silvas told him. "When you can do so in private, you might ask Brother Paul to explain just what he saw during the storm."
"Sir Eustace," Brother Paul called from behind. "I forgot. Bishop Egbert himself is coming to help, with the monks of his chapter."
That stopped the knight for a moment, but when he urged his horse onward again, all he said was a mumbled "A crowd of fat bellies to feed."
Silvas considered taking his leave of the others as they neared the pillar of smoke. If Sir Eustace had not been with them, he would have-perhaps inviting Brother Paul and Master Ian in. But he didn't care to extend that hospitality to Sir Eustace, not yet. So he rode on to St. Katrinka's with the others. But he wasn't paying particular attention. His thoughts were back among the Seven Towers. A good meal, a hot bath, a chance to relax before night-and possibly another attack-came, those were the things he was thinking about.
He was startled when Brother Paul ran past him, toward the front of the church. Silvas looked at the vicar and then toward St. Katrinka's. Bay appeared to notice at the same time, and started walking at a more normal pace for him. Silvas nearly jumped from his horse's back, hurrying to Brother Paul's side.
A rose bush, two feet tall, mature, filled with leaves and thorns, sat next to the steps of St. Katrinka's. There had been nothing there just a couple of hours before. Brother Paul was already on his knees, clutching his crucifix and praying. Silvas stood next to him and stared at the single flower open at the top of the bush. Even better than the vicar, Silvas recognized the threat that the bloom represented.
The single open flower was a large blue rose.