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little relation to his age; he might have been anywhere between twenty and
forty. His scantily bearded face was tired now, and his gray robe was spotted
with mud of darker gray. Here along the shoulders of the road the fields were
all ankle-deep in mud, and they showed no sign of having been plowed or
planted this spring or last.
Oh, Holy One, I thank you again that I have had this pavement to follow for
so much of my journey, the friar murmured, as he started forward again. The
soles of his feet looked as scarred and tough as those of well-used hiking
boots.
Except for the distant spire, the only sign of any recent human presence in
this unpromising landscape was a heap of low, ruined walls at roadside just
ahead. Only the fact of ruin was recent; the walls themselves were old and
might have been a part of a caravanserai or military post in the days of the
Empire s strength. But last month or last tenday a new war had passed this
way, dissolving one more building into raw tumbled stones. What was left of
the structure looked as if it might be going to sink without a trace into the
mud, even before the spring grass could start to grow around the foundations.
The friar sat down on the remnant of the old wall, resting from his journey
and looking with minor sadness at the minor destruction about him. After a
bit, in the manner of one who cannot sit entirely still for very long, he
leaned over and took one of the fallen stones in his lean strong hands.
Looking at the stone with what might have been a mason s practiced eye, he
fitted it deftly into a notch in the stump of wall and sat back to study the
effect.
A distant hail made him raise his head and look back along the way he had
come. Another lone figure, dressed in a habit much like his own, was hastening
toward him, waving both arms for attention.
The first friar s thin face lighted gently at the prospect of company. He
returned the wave and waited, forgetting his little game of masonry. Soon he
got to his feet.
Presently the approaching figure resolved itself into a man of middle height,
who was almost stout and who had recently been
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clean-shaven. Glory to the Holy One, revered Brother!
puffed this newcomer, as he arrived at last within easy talking distance.
Glory to His name. The bearded friar s voice was warm but unremarkable.
The portly one, a man of about thirty, seated himself heavily on the low wall,
wiped at his face, and inquired anxiously, Are you, as I think, Brother
Jovann of
Ernard?
That is my name.
Now may the Holy One be praised! The heavier man made a wedge-sign with
his hands and rolled his eyes heavenward.
My name is Saile, brother. Now may the Holy One be praised, say I
So be it.
for He has led me in mysterious ways to reach your side!
And many more shall follow. Brother Jovann, men will flock to you from the
four corners of the world, for the fame of your heroic virtue has spread far,
to the land of Mosnar, or so I
have heard, and even to the lands of the infidel. And here in our own land
even at this moment, in the isolated villages of these remote hills some of
the most backward peasants are aware of your passage.
I fear my many faults are also known hereabouts, for I
was born not far away.
Ah, Brother Jovann, you are overly modest. During my arduous struggles to
reach your side, I have heard again and again of your holy exploits.
Brother Jovann, his face showing some concern, sat down on the wall again.
Why have you struggled, as you say, to reach my side?
Ahh. What a struggle it had been, said Saile s headshake.
The flame of my determination was first kindled several months ago, when I
was told by unimpeachable sources, eyewitnesses, how, when you were with the
army of the Faithful in the field, you dared to leave the sheltering ranks, to
cross no-man s-land into the very jaws of the infidel; there to enter the tent
of the arch-infidel himself and preach to him the truth of our Holy Temple!
And to fail to convert him. Jovann nodded sadly. You do well to remind
me of my failure, for I am prone to the sin of pride.
Ah. Saile lost headway, but only for a moment. It was, as
I say, upon hearing of that exploit, Brother Jovann, that it became my own
most humble wish, my most burning and holy ambition, to seek you out, to be
among the very first to join your order. Saile s eyebrows went up
questioningly. Ah, it is true, then, that you are on your way to Empire City
even now, to petition our most holy Vicar Nabur for permission to found a new
religious order?
The thin friar s eyes looked toward the spire in the distance.
Once, Brother, God called me to rebuild fallen temples with stone and brick.
Now, as you say, I am called to rebuild with men. His attention came back to
Brother Saile, and he was
smiling. As for your becoming a member of the new order when it is formed,
why, I can say nothing yet of that. But if you should choose to walk with me
to Empire City, I will be happy for your company.
Saile jumped to his feet, to bob up and down with bowing.
It is I who am most happy and most honored, Brother Jovann!
Saile prolonged his thanks as the two men walked on together.
He had then commented at some length on the unpleasant prospect of yet more
rain falling and was discoursing on the problem of where, in this
deserted-looking land, two mendicant friars might hope to obtain their next
meal, when there occurred a distraction.
A speedy coach was overtaking them on the road. The vehicle was not ornate,
but it was well built, looking as if it might belong to some nobleman or
prelate of lower-middle rank. The friars ears gave them plenty of warning to
step aside; four agile load-beasts were making the wheels clatter over the
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leveled stones at a good speed.
As the coach rumbled past, Brother Jovann felt his eyes drawn to the face of
an occupant who rode facing forward, with his head visible in profile and one
elbow extended slightly from a window. So far as could be judged, this man was
of stocky build. He was well dressed, old and gray-bearded, though the
short-cut hair on his head was still of ginger color. His thick mouth was
twisted slightly, as if ready to spit or to dispute.
They might have given us a lift, Brother Saile muttered unhappily, looking
after the coach as it dwindled into the distance. Plenty of room. There were
no more than two passengers, were there?
Brother Jovann shook his head, not having noticed whether there had been any
other passengers. His attention had been held by the old man s eyes, which had
probably never seen the friars at all. Those eyes, fixed in the direction of
the Holy City a hundred miles and more away, were clear and gray and powerful.
But they were also very much afraid.
When Derron Odegard walked out on the victory celebration at
Time Operations, he had no clear idea of where he was going.
Only when he found himself approaching the nearby hospital complex did he
realize that his feet were taking him to Lisa.
Yet, it would be best to face her at once and get it over with.
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