Christopher Stasheff: The Warlock Unlocked

“Why—certes, certes!” the Abbot cried, startled. “My counsel is thine, whenever thou dost wish it! Yet…” His face darkened. “In like fashion, Majesty, we must insist on the authority of Holy Mother Church to appoint her priests to her own parishes!”

Tuan nodded. “Of this, the Queen and I have spoken at some length, Lord Abbot; thou wilt comprehend that, to us, ‘tis sore trial to give up such power.”

The Abbot’s face hardened—reluctantly, Rod thought.

“Yet,” Tuan went on, “when we consider our adherence to the principle of separation that thou hast enunciated—why, there can be no question. The appointments of clergy must rest within thy hands; henceforth, we wish nought to do with such.”

The Abbot stared, speechless.

“We would ask that thou be mindful of thy pledge,” Tuan said, somewhat severely, “to inform us where and when aid to the poor is lacking, and to bring to our notice any devices for the better relief of the indigent that thou dost encompass!”

“With all my heart!” cried the Abbot. “Be assured, I shall advise thee of all good knowledge we gain, and all ideas we may devise! Indeed, I shall set my brethren to meditating upon such means as soon as I am arrived again at mine abbey!”

“Oh, come, ‘tis not needful!” Tuan protested. “Still, an’ thou wouldst…”

There was more of it, in the same vein; in fact, they virtually swore to a mutual crusade against injustice and poverty right there.

And, after the Abbot had disappeared within his own ranks, wobbling with relief and fairly glowing with good intentions, Tuan rounded on Rod. “Now, warlock! By what wizardry hast thou brought about this sea-change?”

“Why, I had nothing to do with it,” Rod said virtuously, “except to bring along Father Uwell—and you wouldn’t expect him to tell, would you?”

“All right, Father, let’s have it,” Rod shouted over the roar of Fess’s jets.

“Oh, come now!” Father Al roared back. “Can’t I claim a professional privilege?”

“You showed him that writ from the Pope, didn’t you? And he did recognize the signature!”

“No, but he knew the Seal. Beyond that, all I did was explain the Holy Father’s policy on relations between Church and State.”

“Which he proceeded to quote, chapter and verse.” Rod nodded. “Even so, I wouldn’t’ve expected him to cave in that quickly. How’d you do it?”

Father Al shrugged. “Probably shock, mostly. They haven’t heard from Rome in more than 500 years.”

Finally, he was able to close the bedroom door (an innovation, on Gramarye) and shuck off his doublet. “What’s the matter with the kids?”

“Why, nought, I should think,” Gwen answered from the pillow. “They have been perfectly behaved, all afternoon!”

“That’s what I mean. What’s wrong with them?”

“Oh.” She rolled over on her side with a cat-smile. “They do fear thou’lt hear their thoughts.”

“Oh.” Rod grinned. “So they can’t even think about being naughty, huh? Well, I do sort of hear them—but so far, it’s only a mutter in the background. Of course, I haven’t been trying.” He stripped off his hose and slipped into bed.

“Thou’st forgot thy nightshirt,” Gwen murmured.

“I haven’t forgotten anything.” Rod reached out, caressing; she gasped. “Hmmmm, yes, just as I remembered. Sure that’s all that was bothering them?”

“That, and the memory of thine aspect as thou slew the Duke.” She shuddered. “ ‘Twould shake a grown man, let alone a child.”

“Hmm, yes.” Rod frowned. “I’d like to say I’d never even try to do that again, dear—but you know occasions are bound to arise.”

“They are indeed.” Her voice was hushed; she cuddled close. “I doubt not thou’lt be enforced to draw on such powers again.”

“If I can,” he agreed. “And if I do, dear—well, I hate to say it, but, as wife, you sort of have signed on for the job of keeping me sane while I do it, of being my link with who I really am.”

She only smiled, but her words murmured inside his mind: Have I not always done so ?

He grinned, and agreed, his words wrapping themselves in her mind, while his arms wrapped her in a much closer, much warmer embrace than she’d ever known.