Even Sir Eustace was shocked into momentary civility by the sight of the blue rose growing in front of the church.
"How did that get there?" he demanded.
"It wasn't here two hours ago, Sir Eustace," Brother Paul said, getting up to face the knight. "There wasn't so much as a sprout here when we talked to the people before Silvas and I started our circuit."
"They are throwing down the gauntlet," Silvas said, also turning toward Eustace. "The Blue Rose Cult is telling us that they are here and that they intend to own Mecq… or destroy it."
Eleanora crossed herself. Her face paled. Maria showed no reaction. Perhaps she leaned forward a little more in the saddle.
"Then we must expect more attacks?" Sir Eustace asked.
"More and stronger, I fear," Silvas said. "I hope that none comes before Bishop Egbert arrives to add his strength to the fight."
"He knows how serious our plight is," Brother Paul said. "And Bishop Egbert can travel apace when the need is upon him. I think we may look for him very soon, if not today, then perhaps as early as tomorrow. He should not be more than a day behind our William."
"I hope you are right, Vicar," Silvas said. "I will feel somewhat less besieged when the bishop and his monks stand with us."
"What should we do in the meantime?" Sir Eustace asked, looking back and forth between the friar and the wizard. The frown had returned to Eustace's face. He disliked the need to ask the wizard for instructions. He disliked relying on him for help. But he knew the threat of the Blue Rose. It had taken his father's life.
"Prayer and watchfulness," Silvas said. Brother Paul nodded agreement. "The vicar and I will take what measures we have at our disposal, but in general it comes down to prayer and watchfulness. I will erect what guards I can, but don't count on them to do overmuch. The forces of the Blue Rose are directed here by a wizard perhaps my equal in power." Perhaps even my master, Silvas thought, but he would not say that, certainly not in front of Sir Eustace. Pride is a common failing among wizards, Silvas conceded. I have my full share.
"On the chance that the Blue Rose does attack out of Blethye, you might take special care to watch the passes from the duchy, Sir Eustace," Silvas said. "The next attack might be physical."
The knight's face grew the fiercest scowl Silvas had yet seen on it. "We always keep watch on Blethye," he said.
"Even at the lesser pass beyond Mount Malq?" Silvas asked.
"Since you put the chance of a connection between Blethye and the Blue Rose in my head, yes."
"There remains a chance that such suspicion is unwarranted, but it is good to be prepared," Silvas said.
Silvas felt exhaustion creeping over him again. Silently he went through a spell for more energy, but he knew that there were limits. He had gotten through this much of the day on magical energy, and the price would have to be paid before long. What I really need is a chance to sleep through a full night without disturbance, he thought. I need to renew myself before the next attack. He blinked a couple of times and continued to watch Sir Eustace.
"Then we will do what we can to make sure we are not taken by surprise," the knight said. "Is there anything else?"
"I can think of nothing at the moment," Silvas said.
"Nor can I," Brother Paul said. "Prayer and watchfulness are always wise paths for the Christian."
"Then I had best find Fitz-Matthew and see what remains to be done," Sir Eustace said, tugging on his horse's reins to turn the animal. His ladies rode off with him.
"There is worse coming?" Master Ian asked. He had remained silent while Sir Eustace was around.
Silvas nodded. "It could get much worse, Master Ian. I wish that I could promise otherwise, but there are limits to my power-certainly against the Blue Rose."
"Should we not uproot this flower?" Brother Paul asked.
Silvas looked at the bush and tried to decide. "We might as well," he said after a moment. "It won't harm the power that put it there, but it might make your flock feel better."
Brother Paul started to bend toward the plant.
"Hold a moment, Vicar," Silvas said. "Have a care. I wouldn't want to be stuck by one of those thorns. There may be an enchantment laid on them."
"I have stout leather gauntlets that we use in the smithy," Master Ian said. "No rose thorn could ever prick you through them. I'll fetch them."
– |At last Silvas was able to take his leave. Even though the church was only a moment's walk from the entrance to the Seven Towers, Silvas rode. He was afraid that his exhaustion would show too clearly if he walked. It was a struggle just to keep his shoulders from sagging, but he knew that he did not dare do anything that might, even mistakenly, make the people of Mecq think that conditions were more desperate than they were. The truth is bad enough, he thought.
Silvas half expected a call before he got to the sanctuary of the Glade, but it didn't come. When the smoke closed around him, he slumped in the saddle, expelling a deep breath. If necessary, he could always claim that he hadn't heard any call that might come now. Fitz-Matthew and Brother Paul had called and waited before. No one would be able to read any more into a delay now.
Bay recognized the wizard's condition. He carried Silvas right to the entrance to the keep. Silvas dismounted slowly. Bosc came running around the corner from the mews, as usual, but the groom took one look at Silvas and stopped running. But he kept his silence.
"If the attack comes now, you are scarcely prepared to meet it," Bay told Silvas.
"I know." Silvas turned only halfway toward Bay. "I need food and sleep, at least a full night without any drain on my resources."
"At least," Bay agreed. "Do you think we will have that night?"
Silvas no longer had the energy to even shrug. "I hope so, Bay. I hope so." He went inside without waiting for any continuation.
Carillia met him in the main corridor in front of the great hall. "Supper is waiting for you, my heart." She moved to his side, pressing against him as if to take some of his weight on herself. Silvas didn't resist as she guided him into the great hall and up to their table. Servants were bringing in the food on steaming platters.
Silvas ate with more abandon than usual. The smell of food drove his already keen hunger beyond any thought of manners or moderation. There was a thick stew filled with several kinds of meat, a roast of beef, boiled cabbage, peas and carrots, onions, cheese and bread. There was also a platter of fruit, but Silvas hungered for more substantial food. He concentrated fully on eating for an uncommon length of time, hardly aware of Carillia nibbling at the meal with her usual gentility. But Carillia watched Silvas closely, marking how drawn and spent he appeared, worrying about him as she always did… and dreading the message she knew she must give him.
She waited as long as she could, letting him eat undisturbed until the pace of his eating decreased considerably.
"My heart," she started, and then she waited until he turned to look at her. "I hate to burden you, but after the events of last night I must suggest another Council. The one we attempted was interrupted, you recall."
"I recall," Silvas said, and Carillia felt a flutter of fear at the way it seemed to drain him even more. "And you are no doubt right, my love. We do need another Council." He shook his head. "But it is impossible tonight. I lack the strength to begin a Council, let alone carry it through. If there's time after I've slept, then yes, but I must have sleep first."
"I understand, my heart." Carillia reached out to lay her hand on his arm. "I only hope that the Blue Rose gives us that time."
Silvas nodded more abruptly than he normally did to Carillia and returned to his eating. But the edge of his appetite was gone, and Carillia's words troubled him. He ate slowly for a few minutes more, then made an end of it. He stared at the platter in front of him, then looked up slowly, his gaze going to one of the hearths at the side of the room.
"I am almost of a mind to sleep on the floor here rather than climb to our chamber," he said.
"You would not rest so well down here," Carillia said. "Come, my heart. You can lean on me through the climb. I at least have had some chance to rest." She pushed her chair away from the table and stood.
Silvas leaned on the table to get up from his chair, but then he straightened up. He looked around the great hall again. Most of his people had finished their meals and left. Everyone had work to do, and long hours of it after the attack of the night before. And few wanted to observe their master when he was so obviously spent.
"I don't think I've been this tired since I completed my initiation rites," Silvas said as he shuffled toward the circular stairway behind the tapestry. "And I was much younger then."
"But not so wise, so experienced," Carillia said, her voice too positive for the words to be intended as mere flattery. She spoke as if she had positive knowledge of that younger Silvas, even though she had not come to the Seven Towers until much later, after the death of Auroreus.
Silvas couldn't even enter into the light banter that Carillia's words, if not her tone, invited. When they reached their bedroom, Silvas sat heavily on the side of the bed, prepared to do no more than cast off his boots before collapsing in sleep. But Carillia was there, helping him out of his clothes, moving the comforter so she could cover him as he lay back and closed his eyes.
Sleep.
– |Bay raced at full gallop across the plain, his mane and tail flowing with the wind of his speed. Silvas stared at the castle on the horizon. Its towers were white like the chalk cliffs that overlooked Dover Bay, but these towers were blindingly reflective, much too bright for Silvas to focus his telesight on them. It would be too much like the time he tried to see what a star was made of. Silvas couldn't judge how far away the castle was, or be certain that it really was Camelot. He wouldn't know until he reached it.
Reaching it was proving more difficult than Silvas had anticipated, though. Bay's stretching gallop covered the miles quickly, but the towers remained as distant as ever. There was no detectable change in the perspective. Bay pushed on with an eagerness that matched the wizard's. The horse didn't waste time speaking, not even to reply to Silvas's occasional questions or exclamations of frustration.
– |"Auroreus, will you please at least tell me how many languages there are on this page?" Silvas pleaded, looking up from the indecipherable scroll to his mentor.
The question seemed to startle the old wizard. His eyes narrowed, not in anger but in concentration or puzzlement. Finally he blinked and shook his head slowly.
"I never pay attention to such details, and neither should you," he said. "I write as the thoughts travel through my fingertips. That is the only way to read it as well. The language is important only as it permits greater precision. Some languages do not treat particular concepts as well as others. I use the words that seem most appropriate, most correct."
"But are there not groups of letters that exist in different languages with different meanings? There are only so many letters to use. There must be a limit to the combinations. How am I to know which word, which language, is meant?"
"That is part of the instruction, lad." Auroreus hesitated, then reached for the scroll he had written for his apprentice. Silvas handed DEI ET DEAE to him quickly. Auroreus scanned the page that the boy had rolled the scroll open to, near the beginning of the treatise, and made a low humming sound.
"There are no words here that are not clear as to which language they belong to, lad. As you develop a feel for reading like this, you'll be able to tell the language without much difficulty, if the question ever really arises." He handed the scroll back to the boy.
"But how many languages, please?" Silvas asked, keeping his eyes on Auroreus, not on the scroll.
Auroreus emitted a long sigh and shook his head again. "There are only five on that page, if you must know."
– |"The eldest of the gods is --." Silvas could not hear the name. That was a magic that he didn't have the capacity to grasp. "The second of the gods is the lady --." Silvas nodded, though he wasn't sure that anyone was watching him. He couldn't see whoever it was who spoke to him, but the voice held too much authority for him to speak. He couldn't even question this voice-unless he were invited to.
The roster of the divines continued. It did Silvas no good since he couldn't take hold of the names, but he had to pay attention. He didn't spare much thought on his peculiar surroundings. It looked as if someone had taken a country vista, cut it into tiny patches, and fastened them back together without any thought to logic or proper position. Bits of sky were mixed in with the grass. Trees protruded from fluffy clouds. A brook crossed grass, tree crowns, and sky without deviating from its course. Silvas himself was sitting on a rock that bobbed along on the summery breeze, sometimes on the ground, more often in the sky or coasting among the leaves at the top of the trees.
"The first conflict among the brothers and sisters came in the land of the Hindus, when both -- and -- decided that they wanted the worship of the same tribe. Their brothers and sisters forced an end to that feud, but the peace that followed was bitter, filled with suspicions and plots. Neither -- nor -- ever forgave the other. Their enmity continues to this day. In any question, if one supports a particular side, the other will automatically support the other, regardless of merits."
– |Silvas didn't wake, but he felt himself tossing in bed. He was hot, sweating-as heavily as the Eyler had flowed before the rain, he thought. The wizard felt a heaviness, something more than his unease at the coming struggle, something less than a warning of imminent peril. He tried to extend his sleeping awareness to Carillia, but he couldn't reach her. Either she wasn't in bed with him or his mind was far more distant from his body and bed than he had thought. Memories and hints of memories pounded at his awareness, demanding that Silvas chase them down the alleys of his mind, taunting him with their incompleteness, laughing at him.
He wished that he could wake up long enough to take a drink. His throat felt dry as the Egyptian desert that Auroreus had told him about. Egypt. Alexandria. The library that had been burned. The way Silvas's throat now burned.
– |"Silvas, are you paying attention?" The voice was harsh, unforgiving. Silvas blinked and nodded.
"Yes, sir," he replied, not certain who he was talking to. "I'm sure I was." No, I'm not sure, he thought. In fact, I'm certain that I have no idea what he was talking about. Was he really talking? He must have been. Silvas looked around. Where am I? It wasn't the same place as before. It didn't rightly look like a place at all. There were no dimensions, no boundaries, no form within, no sense of "without" to measure it against. It's like the place where I hold my Councils, Silvas decided finally, and that gave him some measure of ease-a very small measure.
"We were talking about the adventures of the god -- at the time of the Macedonian Alexander, and of the episode in the Egyptian desert," the incorporeal voice said. "The episode of Alexander's announced apotheosis."
– |The shining white castle was no nearer, not a step, but Bay was slowing, finally reaching the end of his energy. The cadence of Bay's gallop became less regular, the ride became less comfortable. Occasionally he even stumbled, and that was unheard of. Then Bay abruptly dropped out of his gallop into a walk, and stopped.
"It is no use," Bay said. "There's no way we can reach that castle. It is as I said, you can only get to the castle from inside it."
"There must be a way," Silvas told him. "Others have reached it before us."
Bay shook his head spasmodically. "Then they were already inside before they went there."
"That makes no sense at all, my friend," Silvas said sadly.
– |When Silvas opened his eyes, he could tell that morning had fled completely. The shadows from the window showed that the sun was past the zenith. He had slept eighteen hours, or close to it. The bed clothes were drenched with his sweat. For several minutes Silvas could find no energy to do more than lie motionless. Only his eyes showed any life. Without looking, Silvas knew that Carillia wasn't in bed with him.
"I feel as if I spent those hours hard at work, not sleeping," Silvas muttered. But it would have to suffice. There was another day to face. He had to face it.