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 Ah?
 Did Umegat warn you about the ghosts?
 No . . . he said they could do me no harm.
 Well, yes and no. They can do you no harm while you live. But as Umegat
explained it to me, the
Lady s miracle has delayed the working out of the Bastard s miracle, not
reversed it. It follows that, hm, should Her hand open, and the demon fly away
with your soul and Dondo s, of course it will leave your husk with a certain,
um, dangerous theological emptiness which is not quite like natural death. And
the ghosts of the excluded damned will attempt to, er, move in.
After a short, fraught silence, Cazaril inquired,  Do they ever succeed?
 Sometimes. I saw a case once, when I was a young divine. The degraded spirits
are shambling stupid things, but it s so very awkward to get them out again
once they take possession. They must be burned . . . well, alive is not quite
the right term. Very ugly scene, especially if the relatives don t understand,
because, of course, being your body, it screams in your voice. . . . It would
not, in the event, be your problem, of course, you would be, um, elsewhere by
then, but it might save, hm, others some painful troubles, if you make sure
you always have someone by you who would understand the necessity of burning
your body before sunset . . . Mendenal trailed off apologetically.
 Thank you, Your Reverence, said Cazaril, with awful politeness.  I shall add
that to Rojeras s theory of the demon growing itself a new body in my tumor
and gnawing its way out, should I ever again be in danger of getting a night s
sleep. Although I suppose there s no reason both could not occur.
Sequentially.
Mendenal cleared his throat.  Sorry, my lord. I thought you should know.
Cazaril sighed.  Yes . . . I suppose I should. He looked up, remembering last
night s scene with dy
Joal.  Is it possible . . . suppose the Lady s grip loosened just a little. Is
it possible for Dondo s soul to leak into mine?
Mendenal s brows rose.  I don t . . . Umegat would know. Oh, how I wish he
would wake up! I
suppose it would be a faster way for Dondo s ghost to get a body than to grow
one in a tumor. You would think it would be too small. He made an uncertain
measuring gesture with his hands.
 Not according to Rojeras, said Cazaril dryly.
Mendenal rubbed his forehead.  Ah, poor Rojeras. He thought I had taken a
sudden interest in his specialty when I asked about you, and of course, I did
not correct his misapprehension. I thought he was going to talk for half the
night. I finally had to promise him a purse for his ward, to escape the tour
of his collection.
 I d pay money to escape that, too, Cazaril allowed. After a moment he asked
curiously,  Your
Reverence . . . why was I not arrested for Dondo s murder? How did Umegat
finesse that?
 Murder? There was no murder.
 Excuse me, the man is dead, and by my hand, by death magic, which is a
capital crime.
 Oh. Yes, I see. The ignorant are full of errors about death magic, well, even
the name is wrong. It s a nice theological point, d you see.
Attempting death magic is a crime of intent, of conspiracy.
Successful death magic is not death magic at all, but a miracle of justice,
and cannot be a crime, because it is the hand of the god that carries off the
victim victims I mean, it s not as if the roya can send his officers to arrest
the Bastard, eh?
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
 Do you think the present chancellor of Chalion will appreciate the
distinction?
 Ah . . . no. Which is why Umegat advised that the Temple prefer a discreet
approach to this . . .
this very complicated issue. Mendenal scratched his cheek in new worry.  Not
that the supplicant of such justice has ever lived through it, before . . .
the distinction was clearer when it was all theoretical.
Two miracles. I never thought of two miracles. Unprecedented. The Lady of
Spring must love you dearly.
 As a teamster loves his mule that carries his baggage, said Cazaril
bitterly,  whipping it over the high passes.
The archdivine looked a little distraught; only Acolyte Clara s lips twisted
in appreciation. Umegat would have snorted, Cazaril thought. He began to
understand why the Roknari saint had been so fond of talking shop with him. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]