Secret Sacrament (11 page)

“What do you mean, Master?”

“There's a prophecy known only to those at the Citadel. Many years ago it was seen in a vision by three of the Citadel Masters, all separately, but at the same hour. The Shinali will rise again, be reborn as a great nation. They'll reclaim their lands, wipe out much of Navora as we know it. But the best of our civilization will remain, and for us too there will be a rebirth, a new beginning. We'll join with the Shinali, become a unified people, living side by side in harmony, with a simpler, purer life. That age will be called the Time of the Eagle.”

“What do you mean, a ‘purer life'?” asked Gabriel. “Surely we have a perfect life now, with the Empire as it is! How can it all be torn apart?”

“I wish it were all perfect, my son. But there's a great deal of corruption, and the Empire has committed huge wrongs against the Shinali, and other peoples, in its rise to power. The cleansing will be for our good. The prophecy is of hope and harmony, of things as they were always meant to be. I believe that the Citadel is one great part of our
Empire that will remain, but it will be open to all people of all nations, men and women together. Maybe Shinali will study there too, enriching our wisdom and arts.

“And there's another part to the prophecy that I find intriguing. The catalyst to the changes, for us and for the Shinali, will be a Navoran. One man who will bring about the rise of the Shinali nation, and the undoing and eventual rebirth of ours.”

“He'll be a traitor, this man?”

“No—though he may be accused of that. He'll be a deliverer, Gabriel, the beginning of a great and necessary reformation.”

Salverion turned his horse back to the road, and they went on. Gabriel's mood lifted, and he talked about Amael, and his work with herbs. He spoke, too, of Sheel Chandra, and how he longed to work with him in the art of healing with the powers of the mind.

“That will happen sooner than you think,” said Salverion, smiling. “I've already spoken with him about you. You begin work together tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? But I thought I couldn't work with him until my third or fourth year!”

“I said you would not begin work with him until you were ready. Anyone who can interpret dreams for the Empress is ready to study with
Sheel Chandra. I don't think you realize this, Gabriel, but you have the Vision. My understanding of this is limited; Sheel Chandra is the one you need to learn from now.”

Gabriel looked astounded. “I didn't think it was the Vision, Master,” he murmured. “I thought it was just ordinary intuition.”

“So it is, but developed to an extraordinary degree.”

“I'll miss working with you, Master.”

“And I shall miss you. But it's only for a few months, then we'll work together again. I'll need you in the Infirmary later in the winter, when it's full of people with winter ailments. But we haven't been so busy lately, and now is a good time for you to do something different.”

“What will you do, Master?”

“I'll operate in peace for a change, without your interminable questions, and I'll do a few things I don't normally have time for. Tomorrow I'll visit the prison.”

“I didn't realize you went there.”

“I've never mentioned it, because the visits are not compulsory for you.”

“Why do you go, Master? Why not some of the physicians from the city?”

“Many do, though the work is voluntary because prisoners have no rights, not even to medical care.
I go because seeing the prisoners keeps true my perspective on human life.”

“You go to the prison alone?”

“A prison guard is always with me.”

“I mean, don't you want any help? I'll go with you.”

“Thank you. But I've already made arrangements for Sheel Chandra to see you tomorrow. Besides, this visit won't be busy; the prison is half empty now. We have a new High Judge in the Navoran Court. A man called Cosimo. He's reexamining the evidence from some of the old trials, and many prisoners have been released.”

“They were wrongly imprisoned?”

“Yes. That's just one part of that corruption I mentioned. Over the past few years, justice hasn't always served the people; it's served the powerful few in high places. Whether a person was judged guilty or innocent often depended not so much on evidence as on whether he wore silk or rags.”

“And everyone just accepted it?” cried Gabriel, appalled.

“Not everyone. There are a few who had the courage to stand up and challenge the system. They died of obscure poisons, or met with fatal accidents, or ended up in prison on trumped-up charges. One way or another they've been silenced.”

“This new judge must be taking a few risks.”

“Oh, he is. But he's not the sort to be easily intimidated.”

“You know him?”

“I've met him several times. He's become a friend, actually. He has a medical condition he's asked me about. It's because of this condition that the majority of people thought he would never be chosen as judge, though he's a man of integrity and has a remarkable knowledge of the Navoran laws. The Empress had three men to choose from. The other two had admirable qualities, and everyone expected her to appoint one of them. But, against all advice, she chose this man, and he's proving to be the finest High Judge we've seen in a long time. We have justice in the Navora court again. What are you smiling at, Gabriel?”

“I'm pleased that Her Majesty made the right choice,” said Gabriel.

“So am I, though she defied Jaganath over it.”

“Does that matter?” asked Gabriel. “He's only her adviser.”

“He's a great deal more than that. He has tremendous power, can control dreams and create illusions. I suspect he even uses demons to manipulate people. He has a strong hold over the Empress and, through her, influences much that happens in the Empire. I tell you this in strictest confidence.
But it may help you to understand Petra, and why she bends so often to his will. In her own soul she's a wise woman, with a strong sense of justice and a deep love for the old values Navora was built on. Free of Jaganath, she would rule very differently and restore those values—which she is beginning to do, with the appointment of the new judge. I don't know who or what gave her the strength to stand against Jaganath, but I'm glad it's happened at last.”

“This condition the new judge has, Master . . . can you tell me what it is?”

“Yes. He's blind.”

“Can you cure his blindness?” asked Gabriel.

“I can, but whether I will or not depends on him,” said Salverion. “I have the feeling that he would rather remain the way he is.”

“Why would he want that?”

Salverion smiled and asked, “Isn't justice meant to be blind?”

Dearest Gabriel,
Myron wrote,
Greetings from my new home! Well, it's not truly my new home, but I'm living here for a while, so I can continue my sword practice at the Navora gymnasium. I'm living with Eva's family. I can tell what you're thinking, brother, and you can wipe the grin off your face. There's no creeping about between the rooms after dark, believe me. Her father's very religious and had wanted Eva to be a priestess at the temple. He's given up the priestess idea, thank God, but he's clinging to the notions of innocence and celibacy. I have a challenging time even stealing a kiss from her. However, I live in hope. And I scheme a lot.

No doubt Mother's already told you about her new home in the hills. You'd love it; the house is built of wood and smells like a forest. Mother's planted winter vegetables and plans to farm sheep for their wool. She's very happy and spends quite a lot of time with the surveyor who marked out the
land. It was bought from the Shinali and is on the edge of their plain. The Navoran authorities bought enough land for ten farms, though they wanted more. The farms will all grow produce for the Navoran markets. There's a flour mill planned, and a proper road being made between the farms and the city.

The other day I met a friend who was recovering from a chariot accident. He had broken a leg and ruptured something inside—his spleen, whatever that is. But he said you were his healer when he was in the Infirmary. It was a while ago, before the winter. He described what you did for him, how you healed him after the surgery by moving your hands over him, just above the wounds. He said it was strange, and it frightened him at first, but then the pain went and he could feel forces of some kind flowing through him, like warmth. He cried when he told me. It almost made me want to go and leap headfirst out of a racing chariot, just to have your healing. I can't tell you how proud I am of you, how much joy I have thinking of this wonderful work you're doing. Surely nothing in the world could be greater than giving another human being life.

Thank you for all your letters. I'm glad you're enjoying your training with Sheel Chandra. He sounds an amazing man. I can't imagine why you have to spend so much time meditating, but no doubt
it's to do with the mysterious dream healing. I wish you could tell me more about that kind of work, but I know you're not allowed. I try to give myself nightmares, so I can sleep in the Sanctuary of Healing Dreams and let you chant prayers over me. So far I just have nightmares about chasing Eva and catching her father instead, but I don't think they qualify me for a sleeping place in the sanctuary. Mother says it's a place for people with hurts or fears so deep, they can't bear to think about them when they're awake, and they must sleep in the sanctuary and be healed through their dreams, while healer-priests pray for them. She seems to know quite a lot about it; did she ever sleep there? Sometimes I think she must have been very unhappy with Father. I hope she marries the surveyor. I've met him and like him very much. So do the others, especially Subin, who wheedles cakes and little pet turtles out of him. She misses you. So do I. I think of you every hour, with love.

Myron

Smiling to himself, Gabriel read the letter through several times. Though it was afternoon, the lamps were lit, and they gleamed on his high boots and fur cloak. Under the cloak his crimson winter garments were rich, each of the thick quilted
shoulders embroidered with seven silver stars.

There was kindling wood in his fireplace, and a supply of coal in a basket on the hearth, but the fire had not been lit. A brazier burning in the middle of his room had scarcely taken the chill off the air. Outside his window the garden was white with snow, and the trees were almost bare, their last leaves ragged and dark against the azure skies. But behind him, glimmering in the lamplight, were the summer hills Ferron had painted on his wall, and a flock of sheep and a Shinali shepherdess.

Reluctantly he placed the letter down on the table and put out the lamps. Over the metal brazier he placed a heavy lid, so the flames would die out. There was a sudden stamping outside his door, and it was flung open. Freezing air whipped into the room as Ferron entered, slamming the door shut behind him.

“The chariot's waiting,” Ferron announced, shaking snow from his cloak, and stamping his boots hard on the mat. “Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?”

“I'm positive. I just hope the child isn't seriously sick. I shouldn't be going without Salverion. Why does he have to be out at dinner, tonight of all nights?”

“Why, tonight of all nights, is it Jaganath's
child that gets sick?” asked Ferron. “Be careful, Gabriel. The man's evil. He hates you. You're doing his work and stealing his influence. I wouldn't be surprised if he injured his own child just to lure you there.”

“What for—so he can harm me as well?” said Gabriel, half laughing. “You're too suspicious, Ferron.”

“You don't know him. I do. For years I've watched him. He's corrupt, powerful, and dangerous. They all are—he and his soothsayer cronies. They run the Empire.”

“You sound like Salverion,” said Gabriel, grinning as he picked up his leather bag of medical instruments and essential medicines. “I promise I'll treat the child and come straight home. Will you have supper ready for me?”

“Of course. Take care.”

In the long porchways the air was brittle with the cold. Gabriel pulled up the hood of his cloak, wrapped his scarf about his throat and the lower part of his face, and hurried along to the arched door that led to the main gate. In the courtyard someone had wiped the snow off the sundial, and its bronze surface shone. The fountains were frozen into stillness, and the trees were stately and dark, their branches bending under the weight of the snow. All else in the garden was
pristine white, unutterably peaceful. But in spite of the serenity, a deep uneasiness fell over Gabriel. He stopped and for several moments stood staring at the white garden, his lips moving in a prayer for protection and safekeeping. Then, feeling more at peace, he went out to the waiting chariot.

The child lay writhing in her bed, her skin wet with sweat. Her right arm ached where the snake had struck, and breathing was difficult. She tried to sit up to call for her mother, but no sound came, and she collapsed back on the silken pillows, distressed. Ten years old she was, with her father's dark skin and blue-black hair. Her eyes were green, for her mother was a red-haired slave. She became aware of her father bending over her, stroking her hair. His lips on her cheek were hot, and she turned away, whimpering.

“Just a little longer, Syana, and the healer will be here,” Jaganath whispered. “Lie still, else the poison will only run faster through your veins.”

Syana obeyed, though tears slid down her cheeks, and she trembled from fear and pain. She tried to look up, but her eyes would not open properly, and she saw only a blur of dark skin, and two deep spots that were her father's eyes. Then there was a different voice speaking, and someone
golden and scarlet bent over her. Her shift was moved aside, and cold fingers gently brushed her shoulder. She did not mind that the hands were cold; she was burning up and welcomed the touch, like cool water flowing over her. She closed her eyes and lay very still. The unfamiliar voice, quiet and calm, was asking questions. And she could hear her father's answers, though sometimes the pain got bad again, and her arm cramped and ached, and she could not hear what was said. Then cool hands were on her again, easing the pain, binding her arm firmly but gently, so she could not move it. The stranger was talking again, telling her that everything was all right and she would soon be well. She relaxed and let the hands heal her, not caring about anything except breathing.

“It was a little black snake,” Jaganath told Gabriel. “It had two yellow spots on its head. The child was playing in the courtyard and knocked over a potted plant. The snake must have been sleeping underneath it.”

Gabriel checked the child's mouth and saw that her gums were bleeding. Gently he asked her if she felt nauseated, and she nodded slightly. He asked her to open her eyes wide, but she could not, and he knew the poison had been enough to begin paralyzing her. Every vein in her body still
carried the venom, and she needed the deepest kind of healing—the kind that called forth the body's own energies and powers to cleanse and restore and heal.

Gabriel stood up. “I have to ask you to leave, my lord,” he said to Jaganath. “What I have to do requires all my concentration, and I can't be distracted. Would you please send me Syana's mother?”

“There's nothing she can do to help you that I cannot do,” said Jaganath.

For a moment Gabriel was at a loss. How could he tell Jaganath that his energies were disturbing, even destructive? That everything in the man repelled him, and that healing was impossible in his presence?

“For this kind of healing I must have total peace,” Gabriel said, carefully. “I'm sorry, but your forces and mine are different.”

“Then I'll leave, and you may be alone with her,” said Jaganath.

“I'd like her mother present.”

“Very well, since you insist.” Jaganath turned and went out, and Gabriel put away the unused bandages and washed his hands in a silver bowl of water that had been placed on a table for that purpose. There was a soft sound behind him, and Syana's mother came in. She saw Gabriel, and her
green eyes widened in surprise.

“You're the healer-priest?” she asked.

“Yes, lady.”

She blushed deeply at the title he gave her. “I'm not Jaganath's wife,” she said softly. “I'm one of his slaves. Will Syana live?”

“Yes. The venom is seldom fatal. But it's caused some paralysis and bleeding in her mouth and stomach, and she's in a lot of pain. I need to give your daughter mind-healing, to pray for her. It takes a while, and I mustn't be disturbed while I do it. But I wanted you present. And I need your permission.”

The woman nodded.

Gabriel turned back to the child. She was barely conscious, but she sobbed sometimes from pain, and her breathing was still labored. He had done all for her that an ordinary physician would have done, but it was not enough. He stood for a few moments praying, gathering his strength and preparing himself. When he was ready he leaned over the child, his hands on either side of her small shoulders, his forehead close to hers. He closed his eyes, aligning all his mind, all the forces of his body and soul, with hers. He was hardly breathing, no longer mindful of his own body. His whole world became the child, became her energies, her torment, her battle to survive.

He was acutely aware of her brain, of all the delicate nerves and blood vessels of her head. Beginning at the top of her head and following the contours of her skull and brain, he imagined healing light. Through all her head it flowed, about the swollen tissues and veins of her eyes and face, through all her tortured nerves, down even to the taste buds and the surface of her tongue. He envisaged every major blood vessel and poured the white light through, cleansing and healing, negating the bleeding, the forces of the venom. Then he renewed her thoughts, casting out the fears and hurts, restoring her peace, and making strong her wavering will to live. Briefly he explored the images he saw there; he glimpsed a favorite doll and a pet monkey in a cage. There were impressions of her father, lofty and terrifying. And a snake, a tiny black snake with yellow spots on its head, gliding out of an upturned basket of toys. The snake image was dominant, made sharp by fear. He saw the reptile raise its head, preparing to strike. Gabriel's breathing, like the child's, became quick and afraid. It took all his will to wipe out the snake, to replace it with silver light that comforted and healed.

Praying, he poured the light through her neck, easing the paralysis in her windpipe as she breathed, then on to her shoulders and arms,
making the light very bright about the wound. Every muscle of her arms and hands he saw filled with healing; every chamber in her thudding heart, her lungs, the marrow of her bones, her intestines, and the vital organs that strove to deal with the invading poison. The light rushed, swift and strong like a river, through all of her, overwhelming the venom, fighting it on a huge scale and in every minute cell of her being. He baptized her with it, bathed her in it, until she was reborn, restored. And only then, when her breathing was easy and her sweat had dried and her pain had gone, did he stand up.

Very slowly he stood, and he said nothing for a while but watched her face while she slept. Her mother stood with him, her shoulder against his. She hardly touched him, but he staggered and almost fell. She took his arm, leading him to a nearby chair. He sank onto it, his head bent.

“Would you like a glass of water, sir?” she asked. He nodded without raising his head, and she hastened to get it. But it was Jaganath's hand that offered him the goblet, and it was not water, but wine. Gabriel sipped it cautiously, longing for water. Well he knew the vulnerability after this kind of healing, the emptiness that left him defenseless and open to outside forces. He had a niggling fear that Jaganath knew his weakness at
this time and intended to exploit it. He struggled to gather his scattered forces, to be alert.

Jaganath bent over the sleeping child and lightly brushed her face with his fingers. For the first time in that long afternoon, her eyes opened fully and focused properly on his face.

“Where's Mama?” she asked.

“She's with our guests, dear heart,” he replied. “But she was with you while you were healed.”

Syana leaned up on one elbow and looked at the young man sitting in the chair. He grinned at her, and his smile was like her brother's, warm and full of humor. She smiled back. “Am I allowed something to eat?” she asked.