The Robin and the Kestrel (25 page)

He guessed that the four round steeples, one at each corner, must have been at least fifteen stories tall, maybe more. They spiraled up like the shells of some sea-beasts he had seen, coming to a point at their peaks. They were pierced by a fretwork of windows, and looked as delicate as lace. There were no sharp angles in these towers, nothing but curves; curved arches, round windows, spiraling, ramplike exterior ledges that ran from the bottom all the way to the top. The towers were covered with a network of carvings as well, cut in shallow relief into the pristine marble and alabaster. None of the towers were carved alike. The tower to his right was encrusted with waving kelp and seaweed, sinuous eels, spiny urchins, undulating waves, and delicate fish. The one to his left bore clouds in every form, from wisps to towering thunderheads, and among them sported all the creatures of the air, from birds to butterflies. Rainbows arched from cloud to cloud, and the delicate seeds of thistle and dandelion wafted among the flying insects on the lower level.

The other two towers were harder to see since they were on the opposite side of the Cathedral, but on one, Jonny thought he made out sensuous and abstract depictions of flames, salamanders, and the legendary phoenix, and on the other, carvings of plants and animals crept, climbed, and sported on the curves.

On the top of each tower was a single statue of an angel; they spread wide wings and empty hands over the square below, as if bestowing blessings from on high. Unlike many carved angels Jonny had seen, the expressions on the faces of the two facing him were full of childlike wonder and joy—and there were no weapons in those hands. These angels beckoned the beholder to share in their exultation, neither warning dourly of punishment for sins, nor offering a fatuous and simpering "there, there" in lieu of real comfort.

Within the pinnacle of each tower hung the bells, half hidden in the shadows, but gleaming with polished bronze whenever the sun struck them.

With those four towers to gape at, it was hard to imagine how the Cathedral itself could be any more impressive than the towers were. But somehow, it was, and it left him gaping.

Though by necessity it had to be square in form with a peaked roof, it had been ornamented in the same sinuous style as the towers. The carvings all over the facade depicted the life of the Sacrificed God, and the lives of the saints and heroes of the Church. Somehow, even those who had died grisly deaths seemed not to be contorted with suffering, but rather dancing to their deaths. Arrows and nooses, torture devices and instruments of punishment seemed idle accessories to the dance—wounds mere decorations.

And among the carvings were the windows.

Rather than making pictures with glass, the builders of the Cathedral had chosen to make the windows a backdrop for the carvings, so instead of complicated scenes and designs, there were flowing abstractions—more curves, of course—of four or five pieces of glass in harmonious colors. Some echoed the blue and white of a sky full of clouds, the dark blue and scarlet of a sunset, the crimson and orange of flames, the greens of ocean waves, the golds and browns of a field in harvest colors. The result was breathtaking, and the Cathedral sparkled in the sun like a giant box of jewels.

Jonny found himself thinking only one thing.
How, faced every day with this, can these Priests be preaching things that are so small-minded and petty?
For the Cathedral as a whole was a song, an expression in stone of the wholeness of man and the world, however that world was put together. There was no room in this structure for pettiness and prejudice. It had clearly been designed, built, and ornamented by men who loved all of creation, and felt at one with the world.

It took a conscious effort for him to turn his attention back to the mundane. But the Cathedral would be here for longer than they would, and there was business to attend to.

There were many more wagons and stalls here in the cobblestone square, all of them in a row ringing the Cathedral, some of the stalls still untenanted, some with traders setting up. The buildings facing the square were not shops, as he had assumed they would be. Rather, they were private residences; very expensive private residences. The owners of the stalls and wagons had courteously faced their businesses away from these homes, and towards the Cathedral. While waiting for Prime to begin, the first Service of the day that would be open to the public, the crowds gathering here perused the contents of the wagons and stalls with varying degrees of eagerness. Some were plainly killing time; others were in a holiday mood and prepared to buy.

Robin tucked their wagon into a good corner, across from a private home, and beneath a lamppost. No sooner had they tethered the horses, than a City Constable came hurrying over, carrying a board to which several papers were attached.

Jonny let Robin deal with him, keeping up his pretense of being a mute, and set up their display on the side of the wagon facing the Cathedral, following the example of the rest of the merchants. The wall-Stars he hung on the side of the wagon itself, where they caught the sun and made a cheerful display of color against the brown wood. For the trays of jewelry, he propped open the lids to two of the storage compartments and laid two trays each on them; two of the inexpensive thread-and-twig Stars, one of the lesser metals, and one of the solid silver and mixed silver, copper, and bronze.

The Constable went away, and Robin carefully attached the paper he had given her to the side of the wagon. Jonny took a look at it as soon as he was done with his preparations.

It described both of them, their goods, their wagon and horses, and declared that they were "certified" by the authority of High Bishop Padrik.

Clearly, since it described them so minutely, it would do an "uncertified" merchant no good to steal the certification of another. He had to admit, grudgingly, that it was a good idea.

"The tithe here is fifteen percent, not ten," Robin told him in a low voice, as she straightened the Stars in their tray. "It's because of the location; he was nice enough to tell me that if we moved to the rear of the Cathedral, it was the usual ten—"

"If w-we m-move, w-we w-won't see what w-we c-came to see." That seemed obvious enough. "As l-long as w-we c-come out even—"

But already the first of their potential customers was hurrying over, attracted by the brilliant Stars in the sunlight, and within a short time it was clear they were not going to come out "even," they were probably going to run out of Stars before two days were over, if they continued to sell at this rate.

No matter. They could make more. It would be a good excuse to linger around the inn, walk about the town, and
not
go to the market for a day or more.

The jewelry proved unexpectedly popular; somewhat to Robin's obvious surprise, the metal Stars sold as well if not better than the cheaper Stars of thread. Jonny saw why, once he realized what it was that had been bothering him about the wealthier women and their clothing.

The very drabness of it fooled him into concentrating on the color, but as he watched customer after customer
immediately
don her Star, stringing it on her own chain or using the ribbon Robin provided, he saw faces transformed with delight. And he knew that these women had given up
jewelry,
and missed it. After all, Gradford was famous for gemcraft and metals, and it was known across the Twenty Kingdoms that Gradford women all had dowries of lovely jewelry, some of it very ancient, passed down from generation to generation.

The current austere state of things dictated they must give up such adornments. They
missed
their jewelry, and here was a perfectly pious way to get it back.

There had been a number of women and men in finer materials than those coming to the wagon, who had spent some time studying the God-Stars from a distance.
Silversmiths,
he decided, after a while.
Goldsmiths and jewelers. There will be work into the night, tonight, and fine silver and gold Stars by morning. Poor apprentices.

Then again, considering that the apprentices had probably been doing and learning nothing of late, one long night wasn't going to hurt them. And, inadvertently, he and Robin had breathed new life into a dying business!

With that in mind, he sidled over to her in his first free moment, whispered his suspicions into Robin's ear, and added a suggestion. She nodded, and he went back to hanging up yarn God-Stars to replace the ones sold, confident that his idea was in good hands.

A few moments later, she left the wagon to hurry to the side of a gray-haired man in gray velveteen, who had a young, clever-faced woman at his side. The girl bore a remarkable resemblance to him; most probably his daughter, and possibly his apprentice as well.

Robin spoke to them in a low voice for a few minutes, then waved, inviting them to come to the wagon. They took her up on her invitation, and as they watched, she took apart one of the copper Stars, then remade it so they could see how it was done. The transformation in them was remarkable; they went from interested to animated in a few short moments, finally ending up laughing as she placed the copper Star into the girl's hands.

Jonny saw all this in between sales of smaller and larger Stars; by the time he was finished with the last customer, the two were gone. By this time, all of the wagons and stalls were losing their custom as the crowds left
en masse
and flowed in the direction of the Cathedral. Prime was about to begin, evidently, and no one wanted a place in the rear.

"Well?" he asked, as she sidled up to him and gave him a quick squeeze around the waist.

"Master Tomas and his daughter will be very happy to supply us with base-metal and silver-alloy wire and thin bar-stock at a very reasonable price in return for my instruction just now," she said with the intense satisfaction of any Gypsy who has made a good bargain. "I made some suggestions about chains made of very tiny Stars, and suspending Stars from some of the more elaborate chains they already had made up and couldn't sell. In return,
they
suggested ornamenting the ends of the posts with beads, putting a semiprecious stone or glass bead at the center join, and stringing the Stars on necklaces of beads. Everyone is very happy, me included." She grinned happily. "I could wish we were here just for the profit; we're doing
very
well, even after the fifteen-percent tithe."

She had been the one doing all the talking to the customers and the other traders who had come to see what they were offering that was doing so well; he had played mute, and evidently the customers had assumed that meant he was deaf as well. "Wh-what d-did you find out s-so f-far?" he asked, as the crowds gathered tightly about the front of the Cathedral, and acolytes brought out a portable altar. Evidently, in spite of the cold, High Bishop Padrik was going to hold Prime outside, presumably because there was not enough room in the Cathedral itself for everyone waiting. Jonny wondered how on earth the man expected anyone to hear him. Most Churches were built to magnify the voice; he wouldn't have that advantage out here.

Or would he?

The magnificence of the Cathedral had made him ignore the
structure,
and the two wings of Church buildings on either side of it, inside a walled compound. They weren't on the square, they were
slanted,
like a funnel, with the front of the Cathedral the bottom of the funnel. And the elaborately carved front was in the shape of a shell—

Hadn't he heard of something like this, in an outdoor theater?

It should be just as effective in amplifying a speaker's voice as the interior.

"Well, I'm not sure I believe it," she said slowly, shaking him out of his study of the Cathedral, "but I've heard it from so many different people—" Her voice faltered. "They say Padrik works miracles."

He stared at her, startled. She nodded.

"That's what they say," she told him. "Padrik works miracles. Not just simple Healing, but really impossible things, like straightening limbs that have been malformed from birth, healing people born blind or deaf. Even the most skeptical are really awed by him.
That
is why everyone in Grad-ford has been overcome with religious fever. Because they're sure the High Bishop is a modern saint."

She was about to say more, when the bells rang out, drowning her voice in their clangor, and the doors of the Cathedral opened. The sun struck something inside, setting up a reflective glitter that made Kestrel's eyes water. An invisible choir saluted the crowd with music that made the heart stop with its pure, measured beauty. And a single figure clad in white Priest-robes and glittering with gold strode confidently out in front of the Cathedral, and raised his hands.

They were about to discover if the stories were true. High Bishop Padrik had begun the Prime Service.

Padrik's voice, as beautiful a speaking voice as any Kestrel had ever heard, rang out over the crowd as clearly as one of the bells. It was such an incredible voice that Jonny wished he could hear Padrik sing, and listened closely for any signs that the High Bishop had Bardic training. Padrik was the single most impressive speaker Jonny had ever heard in his life, surpassing even the Bardic Guild Masters and the Wren himself. Then came the moment in the Holy Services when the sermon was given. If he had not been braced to be skeptical and critical, he might have found himself convinced of the truth of the High Bishop's words, for in comparison with Padrik's superb command of rhetoric and argument, the street preachers of last night were as clumsy as toddlers arguing over a toy.

Padrik's sermon was a combination of all three of the "dangerous" ideas Jonny and Gwyna had heard last night.
Magic is deception and only the miracles of the Church are the truth and therefore magic is evil. Nonhumans are without souls, and therefore the enemies of the Church and humankind. Things done purely for pleasure are evil because they take time away from the work of God and the Church.

But Padrik made them all seem logical, sane, and part of a whole. Part of a conspiracy, in fact, of nonhumans "and their friends, the betrayers of humanity," to destroy mankind, after first weakening it with magic, and to enslave the survivors. Only the vigilance of the Church stood between the faithful and these "perfidious servants of demons," who sought to bring on the Second Cataclysm and make all humankind the helpless prey of demons. How they were actually going to do that was not specified. But then, most people had no notion how or why the original Cataclysm had occurred.