Roger Taylor - Whistler

He hugged himself and bent forward. ‘I was right,’ he hissed. ‘I was right, I was right.’ Over and over, in a mixture of terror and malevolent glee. ‘I am the Chosen One. His Chosen. I was right!’ Then, with a painful effort he stood up. ‘I am Yours, Lord, utterly,’ he cried out rapturously. ‘Yours! I shall gather up the righteous and bring them to Your Word, and together we shall seek out the sinners in this land and beyond, and bring them to Your Way. Or destroy them.’

Vredech closed the main door of the Witness House quietly and climbed the stairs that would lead him back to the Debating Hall. He was still breathing heavily and his hands were shaking slightly. The look in Cassraw’s eyes, his final, portentous words and then his manic dash up the mountain into what must surely be a monstrous storm, hung vividly in his mind, adding to his confusion and distress.

Though he knew that Cassraw was fitter than he was, he was no youngster and must surely injure himself careening up the mountain like that. And who could say what kind of a storm those clouds presaged, or how long it would last when it broke?

He paused at the entrance to the Debating Hall to quieten his buzzing thoughts. A murmur of voices reached him and he sighed. On the whole he would have preferred to enter into an uproar. At least then he would have been able to intervene in a continuing argument. Now it seemed that the matter had been settled.

What have you done while I’ve been away, Mueran? he thought bitterly. Used your authority as Covenant Member to have him suspended? Well, not while I’ve got a tongue in my head!

With an effort he fought down his anger. He must not allow his anxiety for Cassraw to lead him into any rashness. It would be a serious mistake to charge at Mueran like a stupid mountain goat. Tact and diplomacy were required if he was to protect Cassraw from the enemies that his harsh tongue had made.

Vredech took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The Debating Hall was, like most rooms in the Witness House, plain and simple. It was free from any decoration save for the arched windows which were filled with stone traceries, into which all manner of leaves and vines and, peculiarly, slightly sinister faces had been carved. When a full Convocation was held, the assembled Preaching Brothers would sit on chairs arranged around three walls of the room, while the Chapter Members, the senior Brothers who formed the governing council of the Church of Ishryth in Canol Madreth, sat at one end. Now, however, the Chapter Members were sitting around a long, highly-polished wooden table which occupied the centre of the hall.

All eyes turned towards Vredech as he entered. He bowed slightly to acknowledge this impromptu greeting, then immediately approached Mueran. Whatever had happened in his absence, a more favourable outcome of the whole sorry business would probably be achieved if he did the right thing here, namely attended to the immediate needs of his tormented friend. He did not wait for Mueran to speak.

‘Cassraw needs our help,’ he said, simply. ‘He’s unwell. Very unwell. He seems to have had some kind of a… seizure.’ This provoked knowing looks from a few of the assembled Brothers, but Vredech ignored them. ‘He’s gone dashing off up the mountain, and there’s an appalling storm brewing. If he isn’t badly injured, there’s every chance that he’ll be benighted or snowed in.’

The mood in the hall changed perceptibly. Some of the Brothers showed quite open irritation at this new problem that Cassraw had brought them, but most seemed to be genuinely concerned. Vredech had the impression that Mueran was assessing which group was in the majority before replying, but he swiftly reproached himself for his lack of charity.

‘Ah,’ Mueran said neutrally, but nodding sagely.

‘The sky was looking grim this morning. We must send someone to look for him immediately.’ The speaker was Morem, a gentle, kindly man, remarkably free from the narrow-eyed shrewdness that typified most of the Chapter Members.

Vredech shook his head and moved closer to the table. He lowered his voice confidentially. ‘Whatever problems Cassraw has caused us recently, he’s still a senior member of the church, and despite the occasional complaint from some of its noisier members, he is much loved and depended upon by his flock. I don’t have to tell you how greatly he’s contributed in the past and I’m sure that with help through this… difficulty… he’ll contribute as much again in the future. But he needs our help and protection, now. We can’t send out the Witness House servants to find him. It’d be all over Troidmallos within the day. We’ll have to go ourselves.’

This suggestion caused a stir. Most of the Chapter Members were manifestly too old to be wandering about the upper reaches of the mountain in any weather, let alone in a storm.

‘We could send some of the novices,’ someone offered tentatively.

Vredech shook his head again. ‘The state that Cassraw’s in, it’s not going to be easy to make him listen,’ he said. ‘I think he’s suffering some deep spiritual crisis. Apart from the common compassion of helping him through this in private, I think only we here stand any chance of being able to get through to him.’ He waved down some retorts and, looking at Mueran, became more forceful. ‘Those of us who can manage it should go up the hill and look for him, and go now before he gets too far, or that storm breaks.’

Mueran affected a look of great concern as if he were pondering the suggestion carefully. Vredech waited. He had launched his final appeal directly at Mueran simply to force the issue. It was a device he had used more than once in the past, knowing that the man disliked taking decisions but disliked being seen as indecisive even more. When faced in such a forthright and public manner, however, he could give his approval in the knowledge that, should it prove to be a mistake, he would be able to lay the greater part of any odium at the main instigator’s – the frail servant’s – feet. Should it prove to be correct, he would allow himself to bask quietly in the appreciation that would follow. Once again Vredech reproached himself for his lack of charity.

‘You’re quite right, Brother Vredech,’ Mueran said smoothly. ‘Dear Brother Cassraw’s pain must be our concern. Little is to be served by allowing this matter to become the commonplace of the gossips and still less the Sheeters.’ The word Sheeters brought angry frowns to the faces of many of his audience and there was a great deal of knowing nodding.

Mueran turned from Vredech to the others and with a regretful smile said, ‘Alas, I myself am long past trekking about the mountain, but those of you with the legs and the youth for it go with Brother Vredech now. The rest of us will wait here and pray for your safe return with our Brother.’

‘Perhaps you might also prepare a room and a warm bed for him,’ Vredech said, a little more acidly than he had intended.

Mueran’s smile barely faltered but his eyes narrowed slightly as he inclined his head regally. Mistake, Vredech thought.

‘Practical as ever, Brother Vredech,’ Mueran declared unctuously. ‘Brother Cassraw has a fine friend in you.’

It was a double-edged remark.

A little later, some eight of the Chapter Brothers were gathered outside the Witness House, clad in such heavy cloaks, scarves and gloves as they could find. There had been more than eight volunteers, but Vredech had had to dissuade several of them. There was no point in taking out such a large group, since they might have to spend more time tending their own than searching for Cassraw.

Those Brothers who were staying behind were either watching anxiously from the top of the steps, or were busily shooing novices and servants about their affairs.