0 comments/ 1952 views/ 1 favorites The Balance Ch. 25-26 By: Glaze72 Hello Friends: Well, this tale is almost over. Only one section to go. As always, I welcome your comments and votes. ***** Chapter 25 Angela gave a startled squawk of shock and surprise. She scrambled over Abiron's body, seeking to put him between her and the High Priestess' wrath. Trembling, she raised herself on one elbow so she could look over Abiron's shoulder. "Hello, Mother," Abiron's voice was...amused? "It is polite to knock." "So it would have been, had these not been my own rooms as well as yours," said Ariana. The High Priestess was, she saw, spectacularly nude, dark hair trailing down her back in a wave, magnificent as a queen out of legend. One hand was lightly fondling one breast, the brown nipple high and hard. "I thought to spend an hour in love-play before we slept. How rude of me not to realize that you had already found a bedmate for the evening." Ariana scrambled out of the bed. All fears for herself were gone. She placed herself between Ariana and her lover. "My lady, please! Do not fault Abiron! It is I that seduced him. I...I..." her voice broke. How could she have thought that she could ever contend for Abiron's heart with the vision of beauty which stood before her? She sank to her knees. Incredibly, she heard a small laugh. "You wanted a happy memory to accompany you into exile," the High Priestess said with a small smile. "Oh, get up," she said impatiently, "I am no Goddess for you to prostrate yourself. And this is not a competition." She lowered her hands and raised Angela to her feet. Smiling mysteriously, she examined her, walking in a small circle so she could look at her from all sides. "I was right. You are a very comely lass. And you will be even more so in days to come. Yes. You will do nicely." A finger ran down her spine, stopping just short of the cleft of her buttocks, and Angela had to bite her lip to avoid giving voice to an unexpected jolt of desire. She had the feeling that she had missed something very important. What was it that Abiron had said? "Well, children," and the High Priestess' voice was amused, "I think you should finish what you have begun so well. Get back into bed, Angela. No, do not trouble yourself, Abiron," she said, as he began to get up. "I can make up a bed on the couch by myself. I am not yet decrepit." She walked to the wardrobe and removed a pair of blankets. She stopped at the bedside and took one of the pillows, as well. "I'll see you in the morning, children." And with that, she walked out, closing the door firmly behind her. Hello, Mother...Go back to bed, children. She turned to Abiron on the bed, eyes wide and blank with shock. "She's your mother," her voice was flat with disbelief. He met her eyes. His own were guileless. "Yes, she is. And she is my wife, as well. And the High Priestess. I think you knew without knowing, my angel. You called her my mother yourself when we were having our chai earlier this evening." Ariana knew she should be screaming in outrage. This was one of the foulest sins possible. A son married to his own mother? But it seemed her capacity for surprise had finally been reached. What was one more impossible thing when measured against the events of this lunatic day? "How?" she asked dully, not even expecting an answer. In answer he pulled the blanket over them and gathered her close, one hand cradling her hip, the other snug and warm against her back. Despite herself, she gave a small sound of comfort and wriggled closer to the heat of his body, muscles relaxing, drifting towards slumber. "It all started a few months ago, when I was woken from a deep sleep by an incarnation of the Deity..." @@@ So you were ordered by your god to marry your own mother?" Ariana's voice was a mingling of shock, horror, and sympathy. "Yes. I would have thought it nothing more than a dream, if my mother had not confirmed it the next morning. And if the Deity had not shown up various times the next day to harangue me into accepting the fact." Abiron's voice was dark with amused remembrance. "You poor boy," she said. "How do you bear it?" Abiron drew away and looked her in the eyes. "I do not think you completely understand, my lady. My marriage to my mother is the single most joyous event in my life. I love her, both as my mother and my wife. And I hope soon that we may make a child together. I do not regret an instant of it." Indeed, she could feel the proof of his regard for his mother pressing against her even now. And something dark within her responded to it. How freeing, how liberating, to set aside all restrictions, and to couple with the one most capable of bringing you joy. Memories of the High Priestess stirred, mixing with her appreciation of Abiron's body. Indeed, their Deity had blessed their union. Beauty and joy and power, and the bond that lay between mother and son. Thinking on it excited her to a degree she had not thought possible. She felt her nether lips warming, dampness pooling between her thighs, and that damnable itch rising within her again, one that only his cock could scratch. With a convulsive movement, she hurled the blanket off of them. Laying on her back, her legs spread wide, leaving her sex exposed and vulnerable. Her hands framed it, fingers softly stroking the tender skin of the inside of her thighs, upper arms pressing her breasts together so they stood up in cheerful little hillocks on her chest. "Take me, Abiron. Take me again." Without words, knowing what she wanted, he rose above her. Braced on his elbows, he lowered his mouth for a searing kiss that left them both breathless. Unguided except by their love, the head of his phallus tickled her loins. Strong and sure and hard, he drove his hips forward and found her hot and wet and eager for him. With a soft cry, she pulled her lips away from his and drove them into the angle where his neck shoulder met, biting his skin softly, eyes closed, blind to everything but the heavenly sensations pouring through her. "Harder. Harder, Abiron. As you love me, fuck me harder!" she begged breathlessly. Oh, it was too much! In response to her urging, his pace doubled, and his thrusts grew powerful and relentless. She could feel her climax approaching and rode it like a ship rode the sea. Her fingers clutched his back, nails scoring his skin as she clawed him frantically. Hissing in pain, he tried to pull away, and she retained just enough of her sanity to gentle her touch, whispering soft apologies as he pounded into her. Suddenly the coiled heat in her womb flung itself outward, and with a convulsive cry she reached the pinnacle of joy, all but mindless of the wash of seed as Abiron spent himself within her. @@@ She left in the dark, cold hours before dawn. She and Abiron had made love, gently, one last time. Almost too gently, she thought, and smiled in hazy memory at the look of wariness in his eyes as they came down from their second bout. Her fierceness had frightened him, it seemed. Well and good, she thought. Now he knew her. She caught a few hours of sleep, but woke when the birds began to sing outside her window. She dressed swiftly and went to her door, where she was happy to see that her guard had changed. "How long until the audience?" she asked. "Still more than an hour, mistress," he answered. "That is well," she replied. "When my maid arrives, please ask that I be bought breakfast. Also, I have several items which will need laundering before I take my leave. Can you ask that this be attended to?" He smiled at her. "Mistress, I will." Smiling, she thanked him. Closing the door, she entered her bedroom, and one last time she prayed for guidance. Just like every other time, no answer came. Hearing soft voices from the sitting room, she saw her maids setting out breakfast, a warm bowl of porridge and a small tray of fruit. More at ease in her heart than she had been in years, she took the time to thank each of them kindly for their service of the past few weeks. She then asked that her clothes be cleaned and brought back to her rooms to be packed once the audience was over. With their aid, she dressed and groomed herself. With a grimace, she slid her dagger-sheath into her boot, and secured it firmly. Looking in the mirror, she saw that her face was pale, except for two hectic splotches of red, high on her cheekbones. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and looked at her guard. "I am ready." @@@ Abiron and Ariana ate in silence together. Once finished, they dressed in full regalia as High Priestess and High Priest, the gold sunbursts hanging from their chains of office, splendid against their robes of office. Standing at the door, Ariana took a moment. She stepped close to her husband and brushed a stray lock of hair back from his brow. "Well done, my son." His lips quirked. "So I am forgiven, Mother?" She smiled at him ruefully. "You know there is nothing to forgive. She is a beautiful child. My only regret," and here her voice deepened with humor, "is that somehow I have spent two weeks here, surrounded by beautiful men like Prince Alan and Brother Paul, and have yet to find someone besides yourself willing to take me to bed. "It could," she said solemnly, "make a woman wonder if she is as attractive as she thought." Arm in arm, they left their rooms together. @@@ The last trickles of sand ran through the hourglass. Grit in his eyes, Kris levered himself to his feet and with a grin brought his baton against the bars of the cell with a clang, enjoying the sight as Titus jerked to a sitting position. Producing a set of keys, he opened the door, then held out a set of manacles. Sighing, Titus allowed himself to be cuffed. Guards surrounding him on three sides, the spy was led to the upper levels of the palace, and by back halls moved to a bare room a short distance away from the audience chamber, where they would wait for Captain Diogenes for the right moment to produce him. Kris sat down, back against the door, dizzy with weariness. Waiting again. @@@ Sean reached up to knock on the door, remembered his broken finger, swore softly, and instead pounded on the door with his other hand with the butt of his dagger. He was not going to spend a minute unarmed. Within moments, the door opened and Paul stood framed in the doorway. He was dressed in his monk's robe with the hood thrown back. His face was calm and his eyes were those that Sean had seen in effegies of saints in his youth, ready for martyrdom. "It's time, Brother Paul," Paul nodded and stepped outside. Sean gathered up Lucien with his eyes, and was preparing to leave when he bumped his hand against the doorframe. He cursed softly as another stab of pain tore through his hand. "What's the matter, my friend?" Paul asked. With a crooked smile, Sean held up his hand. The ring finger was swollen to the size of a sausage, jutting crookedly outward. Paul frowned at it. "Come inside," he said. He led Sean to a table, where the clothes the prince had lent him were piled neatly. He brought out the linen undershirt, and with quick motions tore several small strips from the hem. Motioning Sean closer, he bound Sean's ring finger to his middle finger with swift, sure knots. "There. I can't do anything about the swelling, but at least you should have some use of the hand. The motions of your middle finger will guide the damaged one." Sean gaped at him. Mistaking his expression, Paul shrugged, "I grew up in a rough abbey, Sean. This isn't the first broken finger I've seen. Though I would advise you to get a splint on it as soon as you can." Sean shook his head. "It's not that. Those are the Prince's clothes!" Paul raised his brows. "Don't worry about it. He doesn't like me much right now anyway. I don't think a ruined shirt is going to make much of a difference. Shall we go?" @@@ They arrived at the audience hall. Singly, in pairs, or in small groups. Abiron and Angela, elegant and serene. Paul, followed by a single guard. Angela, eyes blazing in a fury of indecision. A small cadre of military officers. A somewhat larger group of nobles. The first of them to arrive saw the royal family already in attendance, faces like ice, frozen into immobility. Lastly came Lambert and Ulf, gloating like carrion-birds over a fresh corpse. When all had arrived, the king and queen stood and left the dais. The king nodded to a captain at the rear of the room, and the doors to the chamber were closed and locked. He looked out over the gathering. "My people," he said heavily, sorrow deep in his voice, "we are here to witness the end of the contest which we declared twelve days ago. The doors are sealed. No one is to leave until all the contestants have had their say. Once we have heard them all, we will make our judgment." He and the queen moved to the right of the throne. With a motion of his hand, he bade Lambert to move into place to his left. "High Priestess Ariana and High Priest Abiron, stand forth." Faces pale, the two ultimate figures of their faith stepped forward. "High Priestess Ariana. You have spent many days with Brother Paul. Has he been able to convince you of his god's divinity? Have you seen any proof that his god is the equal of, or superior to, our own Deity?" Ariana's voice was calm and clear, her face serene. "I have not, Your Majesty." "High Priest Abiron. You have spent much time with Sister Angela. What say you?" "I say that Sister Angela's god is unworthy of her. She has far more claim to the divine than the being she worships. I have seen no sign of grace or divinity from her god." A murmur swept through the room, and Lambert flushed angrily. Angela stood straight and tall, giving no sign that she had heard Abiron's words. With a step back, Benedictos ceded the hall to Bishop Lambert. "Brother Paul, stand forth." Severe in his monks' robe and cowl, Paul stepped forward. "Brother Paul, acknowledge before these witnesses that the deity which these people worship is a false one, and that you remain unswayed. That you praise the might and majesty of our lord Jesus Christ, without whose intervention they will be damned to hell for all eternity." "No." Lambert frowned, marring his diplomat's mask. A shocked whisper ran through the chamber. Before it could gather force, he smiled gently. "Perhaps you misunderstand me, brother," veiled steel was behind his words. "I will speak more simply. Can you tell me if you saw any hint, any sign, that the deity worshiped by these fools is anything more than misguided superstition and the desire of the priests and the royal family to deny them the blessings of heaven?" "Lambert, I can," The bishop gaped. The whisperings grew louder. Behind Paul, Angela's face broke into a disbelieving smile. Eyes wide with surprise, Abiron, Ariana, and the royal family all stared at Paul with varying degrees of shock. Princess Hannah stood, eyes rapt, an incredulous grin splitting her face in two as her suspicions were confirmed. "Brother Paul, what do you mean by this?" shouted the bishop. "I mean this!" Paul thundered, "In the past two weeks, I have seen more grace, more compassion, more kindness from the Lady Ariana than I have seen in twenty years as a member of Christ's church. I have seen a priestess caught up in holy passion, made magnificent by the touch of her Deity. I have had my scars healed and the wounds of my soul eased. "And I have seen proof, my lord bishop, proof of how you, a man of god, have set spies in this country while you served as an ambassador. You have tried to subvert the men and women of Heklos against their lawful lord." Behind him, Captain Diogenes unlocked the doors, and Kris and another guardsman came in. With a contemptuous heave, they threw Titus down at Lambert's feet. "You seem to have misplaced this, my lord. How fortunate that I found it yesterday so I could return it to you. He has had quite a bit to say about his actions on your behalf in this country over the last several years." Lambert was pasty, his face sheened with sweat. He swallowed convulsively and tried a last throw, "You have no proof." "Oh?" Diogenes answered. He had a leather satchel slung over his shoulder. "We searched your quarters this morning. What a tidy record keeper you are, bishop. Money paid out, dates, names, actions to be taken once the invasion came...my goodness. You certainly like to be thorough, don't you?" He shook his head sadly. "You disappoint me. I thought I had found an honest man." "I am an ambassador! You have no right to search my quarters!" "Where such conventions hold," drawled the king sarcastically, "ambassadors generally agree not to try to overthrow foreign governments. Hold him," he told the guards. He paused, trying to gather his thoughts after the stunning turn of events. "Your Majesty?" Paul asked softly. The king smiled. "Brother Paul. You have done us a great service this day. How may I thank you?" Paul smiled nervously. "My lord, I fear that I have made myself somewhat unwelcome back home by my actions today. I beg for asylum. And if the Lady Ariana is willing, I would like to begin to take instruction as a priest of the Deity." Lambert's eyes bulged, enraged beyond measure. Behind him, a sound flew high to the ceiling; high, clear, joyous, and free. All eyes turned to the source. Eyes streaming with mirth, Angela laughed, laughed until she thought her heart would break. With a savage twist of his shoulders, Lambert broke free. "Silence! Silence, you filthy slut!" All but foaming at the mouth, he drew a thin blade from a sheath on his forearm and launched himself at Angela. "NO!" Sean threw himself forward, knocking Lambert to the ground with a bruising tackle. He punched Lambert twice in the temple, stunning him, then drew his blades and kneeling on Lambert's wrist, held him for binding. He gave a quick bow of his head to the king. "What is your will, my lord? Shall I gut him?" he said, prodding him in the stomach with his sword, "or geld him?" the blade slid lower, pointing steady as a stone at Lambert's groin. "Cut his tonker off and feed it to the dogs," snarled Angela. She moved forward, dealing Lambert a savage kick to the ribs. She pulled up her sleeve, displaying her bruises to the crowd. "The pig came to my rooms last night and threatened me with rape if I did not go along with his plans." An ugly growl rose from the natives of Heklos. For the first time Lambert looked afraid. "I too ask for asylum here." The king nodded at both Paul and Angela. "Your wishes for asylum are granted. Brother Paul..." "Brother no longer. Please, my lord, Paul will serve my needs." "Paul, then," the king smiled. "You will have to apply to the High Priestess for training. But if your faith in the Deity approaches that which you formerly held in your god, I think you will make a fine addition to the priesthood." He looked at Captain Diogenes. "What next? Oh, yes. Corporal, let up the good bishop, if you will. And bring Brother Ulf forward as well." He looked at them in disgust. "You are expelled," he said flatly. "You have lost the contest and your embassy is over. You will be taken to the nearest border crossing and cast out, never to return, on pain of death. Tell your masters what transpired here. If they think they can take by might of arms what they could not take by treachery and deceit, they are welcome to try. "Oh, and another thing, Captain," he said, as Ulf and Lambert were marched out. "Make sure that the gates to the castle are sealed. No one is to leave without my express consent. We need to go through this little treasure-trove," he said, nudging Lambert's satchel with his toe, "to see which of our beloved subjects would have sold us out to Rome." Angela noticed a few faces in the crowd go pale. The Balance Ch. 25-26 "Well," said the king, rubbing his hands together, "I think that about wraps things up. If the High Priestess and Priest would like to join me in the royal quarters with our new-found friends, I think..." "Your Majesty?" interrupted a voice. "Yes, what is it, Ariana?" the king asked impatiently. "What else do we have to deal with? An invasion of unicorns? Is the Great Sultan waiting at the Gate of Dawn?" "I think," Ariana said carefully, as a high, musical note, aching in its purity, sounded in the room, "that you will want to see this." A beam of light came blazing down through the high windows. Where it met the earth, twelve figures stood. They were human-sized, human-shaped, but there was a sense that within them was a power sufficient to move mountains or to cause rivers to boil. As one, the guests in the audience chamber dropped to their knees, prostrating themselves before the twelve incarnations of the Deity. Remaining on their feet were the royal family and the clergy, Angela and Paul, blinking in confusion, and one atheist guardsman. The royal family walked slowly forward. They stood before the Deity, then made their obeisance in unison, Benedictos and Alan bowing low, Cassieopeia and Hannah curtsying deeply. Beside them, Abiron and Ariana knelt, but kept their heads high, glorying in the honor which had been given to them. Angela felt Paul come to her side. Her hand reached out and clasped his. "What do we do?" he whispered. "Damned if I know," she answered him. She fought off an insane urge to laugh. "Be polite, I guess. I don't want to offend another god today." "It's all a lot of nonsense," she heard Sean mutter from behind them, but he sounded unsure, as if even his bedrock-firm disbelief was undergoing a seismic shift. "They do it all with mirrors." In front of them, the Deity was exchanging soft words with the royal family, and with Ariana and Abiron, who had now stood. Various incarnations spoke with each in turn, though they were too far away for them to make out the words. After a long moment, the royals and the priests turned to look at Paul and Angela. Hand in hand they walked forward, footfalls slow and firm, Sean a steady presence behind their shoulders. Angela looked at the Deity. Six male, Six female. From her time with Abiron she knew them all. Graybeard and Crone. Mother and Father. Warrior and Huntress. Wanton and Lover. Youth and Maiden. Lass and Lad. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed. The Maiden looked an awful like the quiet maid from her chambers. And wasn't the Lad the same boy who had helped draw the pairings the day the contest began? The Wanton walked forward. Angela's breath caught as the edge of Her divine sensuality brushed by her. She stopped in front of Paul. Her lips curled in a smile over delicate white teeth, Her eyes hot with lust. "You served my handmaiden well, gentle brother, and you have acted with great courage this day," She said, and her voice was the deep purr of a satisfied cat. "What reward will you have of Us?" Paul bowed low and cleared his throat. "I ask for no reward beyond that which I have already asked. It is enough to be allowed to undergo training as Your priest." A look of hope entered his eyes. "My Lady, I never knew who my parents were. It has long been my wish to know the truth. Are they alive? Why did they give me up?" His eyes misted. "Do they think of me?" The Wanton nodded, her eyes dark. "Our powers do not reach far beyond the borders of Our land. However, We will make inquiries." Paul nodded his thanks. Suddenly, he frowned. "I hope my actions won't cause You...difficulty? I have never met a divine being, and am curious to know what happens when a priest of one faith abandons it for another." The Wanton laughed, her voice music, "Your former master has many servants. Too many, I have long thought. Perhaps the events of this day will teach him a measure of humility. Do not fear on Our part, little brother. We can hold Our own." She strutted back into line, pausing only to drop a kiss onto the mouth of the Lover. A few paces down, the Father came forward. He stopped in front of Angela, face stern. "Tell, me, daughter. If Paul had not declared his faith, what would you have done? Would you have abandoned us to Lambert, or would you have risked all for a faith which you do not share?" Angela raised her chin and looked the Deity in His eyes. "I do not know. I knew that Lambert was a monster. I knew that if I denied You, I might be consigning Your country to a terrible fate. But I was afraid. And I think, my Lord, if I may say so without offending, that You were far more able to protect Yourself than I was." The Father smiled, "An honest answer, and a good one. Paul is staying here to undergo instruction and to become Our priest. What will you do, Sister? Is that your desire as well?" Angela looked at Abiron. He was gazing at her, his heart in his eyes. She shook her head, and watched his heart break. She turned back to the Father. "My Lord, I have had my faith shattered once, years ago in another land. I think it is now beginning to heal. But I cannot force it. I need time. If His Majesty will give me leave, I would like to see his country and determine for myself if this is a place I wish to stay, and if becoming Your priestess is the right choice for me." The Father nodded, His eyes so loving that Angela wished she was a little girl, just so she could sit in His lap. He snapped His fingers, and a staff appeared in His hand. "Hey, that's mine!" came a querulous voice from behind him. "Pipe down, Granddad," said the Father. "You can make another one." He passed the staff to Angela. "A staff is a help on the road. We cannot guarantee that you will be always left unmolested. This will aid you should you ever have need." Angela hefted the staff. It was sturdy, but not too heavy, and shod at each end with iron. It fit her hand as if it had carved for her personally. She bowed her head in thanks. Lastly, the Maiden came forward. She paused to wink at Angela, and she blushed scarlet. Her voice was cool and clear as she spoke to Sean. "Guardsman, you saved the life of Our daughter today. Without your swift thought, this day still may have ended in tragedy. What gift will you have of your Deity? We have determined that the High Priestess and High Priest will take up residence in the Great Temple. If you wish, you may be head of their Guard." Sean scowled. "I don't believe in Gods. Or Deities. And even if I did, you're not my God." The room gasped at his audacity. The Maiden smiled a tiny smile. Stepping forward, she cradled his injured hand, clever fingers picking at the knots Paul had made. "Silly man. Do you really think you have a choice?" The pieces of cloth fell to the floor. Paul stared. Sean's gnarled fingers were straight and clean, with no evidence of past injury. Wondering, Sean flexed his hands. "Awww, dammit," he said. "Twelve years of atheism, shot to hell. "Right then," he said to the Maiden, arms crossed and feet wide-spread. "I have two requests. First," he jerked his head to the back of the room, where Kris stood slack-jawed and staring, watching his best friend talk back to a divine being. "My buddy Kris there needs an annulment from Rome. He is sweet on a lady here in town, but can't get married on account of he did it once already back in his home country. I want him to have the money to buy his annulment." "What did he say?" came a voice from the back. The Maiden grinned at Sean, completely unfazed by his tone, "Done." "Second, I want to go with the lass here when she leaves. Your man there said himself that she might not be safe. No sense in saving her life here if some bastard cuts her throat for her coin three weeks from now. The Lady Angela needs a keeper. Do that," he said, blue eyes grim, "and I'll be your Captain when I get back." The Maiden nodded again, face serious, "And done again, Sean Dealrach." She drew near him, and her lips traced a kiss, pure and chaste, on the corner of his mouth. And then They were gone. Chapter 26 An hour later, the nine of them were in the royal chambers. Abiron looked at the faces around him. They all bore some indication of the momentous events of the morning. Only Princess Hannah seemed immune to the cataclysmic shift in their fortunes. She was talking softly to Paul on one of the couches. Nearby, dressed warmly and with a heavy cloak thrown over one arm, Angela sat stiffly in a chair. Sean stood uncomfortably behind her, bags containing their clothing and other items in an untidy heap near the door. Prince Alan walked restlessly from one spot to the next, eating an apple which he had filched from a gilded bowl. The king and queen were seated together on a well-worn love-seat. The king was murmuring softly to Cassieopeia, who was shaking from the aftereffects of the stress of the morning. In front of the fireplace, where a small blaze glowed, Abiron could hear his mother muttering dire imprecations as she worked herself into a state of fury he had not seen in years. "By the Father's Hands. By the Lass' Smile. By the Lover's Balls. By the Wanton's Tits. By all the demons of the Seven Hells!" She strode to Paul where he sat and grabbed him by his robe. Punctuating each word with a shake as her voice rose to a shout, she yelled, "Why the FUCK didn't you tell me what you were doing, you stupid, arrogant, GORGEOUS man?" She looked for an instant like she was going to strike him, but then flung up her hands. "By the Graybeard's...Beard! I am so torn between happiness and rage, that if I do not explode, it should be counted a marvel!" "You speak for me, also, my Lady Priestess," said Cassiopeia. She looked at Paul darkly. "Despite his actions on this day, I am still not convinced he is our friend. Why should we trust one who so obviously does not trust us?" Paul rose and bowed. "I beg your pardon, my lady High Priestess, and yours, Your Majesty. I did not seek to deceive you because I wanted to do so. I sought to protect you from those who wished you ill." He smiled crookedly. "One ancient philosopher, when commenting on the perils of statecraft, said, "Three can keep a secret, if two are dead." As the others smiled, he continued, "During my visit to the temple with Ariana," and here he blushed deeply, "I came to the realization that the only way to protect you would be to keep you ignorant. I had no idea of whom among your close advisers may have been corrupted by Titus. If you had confided in one of them there is no telling what lengths they may have gone to. "And even if that did not come to pass, I feared lest you betray your growing confidence to Lambert. If he suspected that either Sister Angela or myself was to come down on your side, he would have tried to remove us. Think on what he threatened Sister Angela with. And that was when he believed she was his ally." "Sister Angela no longer, Paul. You can address me by my given name from now on." Paul nodded. "My best hope was to keep the four of us who knew about the spy protected. Keep Lambert off balance by my sudden demand for an immediate audience and the end of the contest, and then produce the spy when I denounced Lambert publicly. "Although I will say that I was more than a bit surprised when Captain...Diogenes, wasn't it? When the Captain showed up with Lambert's records. And when the other guardsman came in with Kris. I guess you spent some time trying to figure out what I was up to." "A long night," said the queen. "It was Hannah who took the first steps down that path. Otherwise, I think you may have caught us all by surprise. As it was, I don't think any of us were expecting you come over to us entirely. The best we expected was that you would expose Lambert, produce the spy, and help us somehow stave off an invasion." Paul smiled. "At least part of my plan came about, then." "Did it ever! Boy, if Ariana decides you aren't fit for the priesthood, come and see me. I know some playwrights in town who would love to have an actor of your quality. And that voice! You sounded as if you were casting a sinner into the Outer Darkness! I wouldn't be surprised if right now there aren't a dozen ink-stained wretches who are writing The Saga of Paul and Angela," said the prince. He grinned at Paul and seemed to have put his earlier anger behind him. "Well, what now, my friends? By the grace of the Deity, we are told that Ariana and Abiron will take up residence in the Great Temple, the better to serve and advise us in the days ahead. What of Paul and Angela? You had words with the Deity, did you not? Will you join them in the Temple?" Paul nodded. "I have received permission of the Deity to receive instruction as Her priest." he said. "I hope that High Priestess Ariana and High Priest Abiron will undertake my teaching." Alan smiled. "Good. Perhaps we can meet again soon, and you can explain the animosity that led you to destroy my undertunic, which I had lent to you out of the charity of my heart." He put on an aggrieved face. "Surely our hospitality has not been so ill as to deserve that?" Paul smiled. "Indeed it has not. But necessity existed, and no other way lay before me. I thought that I would need an honest guard with two functioning hands. And the only way to guarantee that was to bind Sean's fingers. And the only way to do that was with cloth from your clothes. I apologize for the damage done. With the first monies I earn from my new position as a priest of the Deity, I will make good the damage." "Speaking of money," the king frowned. "Lady Angela, is it still your purpose to travel throughout Heklos to learn more about us and our people, as we heard you tell the Deity?" "It is," said Angela. "Sean will accompany me." "And I," said Abiron, stepping forward. Angela gazed at him, her eyes steady. "Like hell you will." "Angela, please!" said Abiron, his voice unsteady. "I love you. I do not wish to be parted from you. And if you have to go on this mad journey, at least allow me to travel with you and keep you safe!" Nearby, Ariana's face was expressionless. "I think not." When Abiron drew in breath to protest further, she raised her hand. "Abiron, I love you as well. But what I told the Deity is true. I have had my faith broken once already. I will not risk it again unless I see that the cause I bind it to is a worthy one. Can I do that honestly when I have a lover beside me, explaining this, excusing that, and hiding from me what he would rather I do not see? Would you hide the truth from me, only to have me doubly enraged when I find out not all is as you say it is? No. I will learn on my own. I take Sean with me because I need protection. But I deem he will advise me honestly in the days ahead. At the very least," she said with a tiny smile, "he does not have a long history of faith and will offer his true opinions. He does not seem to...filter them." She got up and laid a hand on his cheek, caressing his beloved face. When she removed it, her fingers were wet with his tears. "Do not fret so, my love. If this land is all you have told me it is, I will be by your side anon." The king nodded and addressed Abiron, "Have done, lad. She has made up her mind. Push her any more and she'll probably smack you one." He frowned at Angela. "How do you mean to travel?" Angela gestured at the pile of bags and clothes, topped by the staff the Deity had given her. "Even as you see us." "On foot? In winter?" A flush touched Angela's pale face. "Deity save me from fools," the king muttered. Rising, he walked into the chambers he shared with the queen. When he emerged, he held a small leather sack, strangely heavy for its size. He tossed it to Angela. She caught it, feeling the clink of metal in her palm. "Buy a donkey, at least. Horses if you can. But on foot, in this season, you won't make five miles a day. If you get off the main roads you'll be hip-deep in mud. A donkey or a mule for your luggage will allow you to make at least ten. And for the love of the Deity, stay at inns if you can." "Or at temples." Ariana's voice was cool but kind. She handed each of them a leather cord. Threaded onto them were copper disks emblazoned with the sunburst of the Deity. "Show this at any temple you reach, and you will be given food and shelter for as long as you need to stay." Sean and Angela strung the cords over their necks. Reaching down, Angela grabbed her knapsack and slung it over her shoulders. Uncertain, she looked at her friends in the room, then met Sean's eyes. "Well, I guess we should be going." At his nod she took her staff in her right hand and prepared to leave. She first nodded politely at Alan and Hannah. She then curtsied to the king and queen. Crossing to Paul, she gave him a fierce hug. Looking into his eyes, she read a serenity there that matched what she had sometimes seen in Ariana and Abiron. He will do well here, she thought. With a mischievous smile, she reached up and kissed the corner of his mouth briefly. "Be well, brother. For so I name you in truth. You have treated me with more kindness than my blood-brothers, gone these many years. Learn quickly and well, and protect my friends." "Be well, my lady, for so I name you in truth," he replied. "You deserve the name far more than many with blood far loftier than yours." With a bow of her head, she accepted the compliment, then turned to Abiron. "Dry your eyes," she said, some of her trademark asperity back in her voice. "For goodness' sake, you would think that I was dying." She cupped his face in her hands and drew him down for a long, sweet kiss. Cradling her hips in her palms, he returned it with vigor. Somehow she managed to tear herself away, and turned to the only person to whom she had not yet said farewell. "My Lady..." she stopped, at a loss for words. Ariana embraced her. How strange, she thought, that these two have grown so in my heart over the past few weeks. She ran a hand over Angela's golden head. "Be well, child, and come back to us," she said softly. "We will have need of you in the days ahead. These two," she said, cocking her head at Abiron and Paul, "are gentle souls. There are times when the passion of anger is needed as much as the passion of desire. "We will look for you at sunset. May your road be clear and your steps light. And may you find joy at your returning." Released from Ariana's embrace, Angela took a last look around. She ran an arm across her face to clear away the signs of her grief and nodded to Sean. "Let's go."