The Warlock Rock (30 page)

"We wish all folk to change by kinder conduct, each toward each," the elder monk said, "yet thou wouldst have them debase one another." He pulled on a chain around his neck, drawing a locket from his robe and thumbing open its cover. "Stare within this jewel, and seek to work thine evil if thou canst!" The Judas priest stared, fascinated. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a hideous grin, emitting a grating whine.

The jewel seemed to come alive, beginning to glow—and the Gallowglasses began to feel it pulse with psi energy.

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The Judas priest started to tremble in time to that throbbing. Then the elder monk snapped, "Begone!" and the air cracked in a sudden implosion, kicking up dust. When it settled, the Judas priest had vanished.

The monks relaxed, and the elder closed the locket.

Cordelia stared. "What magic's this?"

"The magic of the jewel within that amulet," the younger monk explained. "It doth transform whatever power a witch or warlock doth use. This Judas priest was the sort of warlock who can bemuse good folk and make them to believe things that they would know for lies if their minds were clear."

"The jewel did take that energy and change it to another form," the elder monk explained, "yet it was for me to choose that form."

"What manner of jewel is this?" Gregory asked in wonder.

"One made by the High Warlock of Gramarye, little one."

" Thyrock?" Magnus looked up at his father in surprise.

The elder monk paused in the act of closing the locket. "Art thou the High Warlock, then?"

"I am Rod Gallowglass," Rod acknowledged, "and this is my wife, the Lady Gwendolyn."

"Lady Gallowglass!" The elder monk inclined his head. "I am Father Thelonius, and this is Brother Dorian."

The younger monk also bowed.

Gwen returned the gesture, saying, "And these are my children—Magnus, Cordelia, Geoffrey, and Gregory."

"We wondered how four young ones had stayed safe within this vortex of corruption," the younger monk said, "yet if they came under thy protection, we are answered." Gwen smiled, but said, " Tis more that we are their parents, I think, than that we are magical." But Father Thelonius disagreed. "Would it were so—yet many are the young folk we have seen led astray by just such as this Judas priest, whether their folk were by them or no. They are canny malefactors who do seek to use these music-rocks for their own purposes, look you, and that purpose is to fill their lust for power, and drain the vitalities of a generation. They are cynical, and have learned the worst of human impulses, then have used that knowledge to mislead and warp. Most parents lack such knowledge; they cannot hope to oppose ones who devote their whole attention to beguiling youth." Magnus and Cordelia shared a horrified glance.

"Yet how knew you this false priest for what he was?" Geoffrey asked.

"Because he did not preach the word of Christ, and His Eucharist," Brother Dorian explained.
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Geoffrey eyed them with suspicion. "Yet how may we know that thou art true monks? For surely, having been misled by one friar, I hesitate to trust another!"

"I profess the Christ, and His miracles," Father Thelonius answered, "but most especially His miracle of giving us Himself, in the forms of bread and wine. Will that satisfy thee?"

"No, not quite, I'm afraid," Rod said. "You'll pardon me, good monks, but I find I share some of my son's skepticism, at the moment."

"Then test us as thou wilt," said Brother Dorian.

Cloistered members of the Order of St. Vidicon, said Fess's voice inside Rod's head, are taught at least the rudiments of modern science .

Rod nodded. "I believe your profession of faith, Father— but can you tell me the Laws of Thermodynamics?"

Brother Dorian stared, but Father Thelonius smiled and said, " Primus, that the amount of energy within a closed system is a constant."

"Which is to say," said Brother Dorian, "that human folk cannot create or destroy energy, only change it from one form to another—as thy rock hath done."

Father Thelonius beamed with approval, then went on. " Secundus, that in any flow of energy, entropy will ever increase."

"We must ever strive to maintain harmony and order," Brother Dorian said softly, "but the universe will someday end—and Christ will come again."

Scientifically, they are accurate, Fess's voice said, though I question their theological inferences .

"We're satisfied," Rod said. "You're real. Sorry about the testing, Reverends."

"Nay, do not be," Father Thelonius said.

And Brother Dorian murmured, "Would the young folk so test those to whose words they hearken. We should always question authority before we accept it."

"But we should listen to the answer," Father Thelonius amended, "and sieve its worth." Gregory was puzzled. "Please tell, Father, how thou didst govern the action of Papa's jewel."

"Aye," Magnus chimed in, "for he could not."

Rod gave him a gimlet glance, but Gregory pressed, "Didst thou have but to say, 'Begone'?"

"In a manner, yes—but the saying of that word did focus my will, giving an imperative to the forces molded by the jewel. I am a projective myself, though not greatly endowed; if I were, I'd need but the impulse-thought, and would not have to speak the word aloud. Still, I've strength enough to direct the operation of this crystal."

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"Why could not the Judas priest have taken its direction from thee?"

"Because he held it not. We have found that whosoever doth touch the jewel doth direct its action."

"Anyone?" Gregory exclaimed, saucer-eyed.

"Anyone who doth know the manner of using it, aye."

"Then where is thy squadron of knights, to protect thee?" Geoffrey cried. "Where is thine army of guardians? For surely, if that Rock did fall into the hands of one who wished to exploit others for his own use, he could wreak great havoc!"

"Aye, we know," Father Thelonius said, his face grim. "Yet there was no time to send for guardsmen, for our Abbot did heed the words of his thought-sentinels, who did say that there was a hideous force building on this West Coast, seeking to capture and twist the power of the music-rocks to enslave the folk."

Rod found it interesting that the new Abbot had monks mentally scanning the island for trouble. That could be a blessing—or a curse. "So there was no time to send to the King for aid?"

"Aye; he could only send out teams of us to counsel and advise, and myself—with Brother Dorian to watch o'er me—to find the evil soul that doth seek to misdirect the power of music, then to wield the Warlock Rock against him."

"Yet if thou wert taken…" Geoffrey protested.

"None other could wield the Rock, for they know not the manner of it," Father Thelonius assured him.

"Yet if they chanced to discover it… !"

"They won't." Rod clasped his son's shoulder. "Because as of now, they've got the best guardians they could ask for, haven't they?"

Geoffrey turned to him, startled, then drew himself up, eyes alight. "Aye, sir!" He turned back to the two monks. "Thou shalt not take a step that we shall not shadow!" Father Thelonius inclined his head gravely, to hide his smile. "We shall walk in thy debt."

"Nay, for thou hast banished that false priest that might have swayed us." Geoffrey's glance lit on Magnus and Cordelia.

"What mistrust is this?" Magnus demanded, and Cordelia said hotly, "We were tempted, aye—yet now our eyes are cleared, and we will no longer be misled!"

"Yes." Rod smiled. "As long as you keep your ear mufflers on."

"Then let us go forward in company." Father Thelonius held out a hand, and Geoffrey fell into step beside him.

So they strode onward into the world of illusion, a family led by a boy and a middle-aged monk. The
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melting forms rose and fell about them—but, strangely, seemed to part and make way for the two monks.

As they went, Rod stepped up beside Father Thelonius and murmured, "A word with you apart, Reverend, if you would."

The holy man looked up with a smile—and without surprise. "Surely." He turned to Brother Dorian and murmured a few words, then turned back to Rod. "At your disposal, Lord Warlock."

"I hope not—I wasn't planning to be disposed of, yet." Rod lengthened his stride, to put a little space between himself and the rest of the family.

"But I had heard you were a man of excellent disposition," Father Thelonius protested. Rod winced. "Whoever told you that, don't believe him—but I am predisposed in favor of your Order."

"I rejoice to hear it," the monk said softly. "But what did you wish to discuss, Lord Warlock?"

"Just wanted to know how things are on Terra."

The monk took it without batting an eyelash. "They are well at the moment, Lord Warlock. Are there so few Blacks on Gramarye that you could tell me for a foreigner at one glance?"

"Right on the first guess, Father. There's the occasional folk tale, from which I gather that the chromosomes link up now and then—but I've never met anyone who wasn't Caucasian, here." That startled the monk. "Really! Well, that explains your children's reaction on seeing me. I would have thought the original colonists would have included a few people of my race."

"They probably did—but after five hundred years of intermarriage, I would expect their genes to be so thoroughly dispersed among the population that they wouldn't show much. May I ask why Father Al didn't come himself?"

"Because there was no cause for concern."

"No cause … !"

"None that we knew of at the time." The monk raised a hand, palm out. "It was simply good luck that I happened to arrive at a time when I could be of use. Father Aloysius Uwell sends his regards, of course, but didn't know there was any particular reason for him to come himself."

"Well, I'm glad to hear he's well, at least," Rod sighed. "So he didn't have a hunch about things going wrong here on Gramarye?"

"Not in this case. I am not here in response to any emergency, Commander Gallowglass…" It had been long years since anyone had called Rod by his military title. It felt odd, somehow—strangely ill-fitting.

"… nor to any concern of the Vatican's. I am only here out of scholarly interest."
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Rod couldn't dispute anyone else's right to visit the planet—after all, it wasn't his personal property. Nonetheless, he said, "I would have appreciated your checking in with me, Father—just as a matter of courtesy, if nothing else. I do have some concern about who's visiting and who isn't."

"I understand, Lord Warlock—and my apologies for not having contacted you immediately. I had intended to, but had scarcely acclimatized myself before the Abbot asked me to attend to this little problem that has come up."

"Scarcely 'little'—it's one of the larger threats I've seen. I hope that means you'll be able to take care of it easily?"

"Sadly, no—I am an excellent scholar, but not terribly able as an engineer." Rod had heard the same thing before, from men who had moved mountains with little help—or asteroids, at least, which could be classified as flying mountains. "How are you on R&D?"

"Research and development? Oh, I'm quite able—as long as I have a laboratory assistant." He nodded toward Brother Dorian. "This young fellow seems very competent. He's Gramarye-born, by the way."

"That's reassuring. Should I interpret this to mean that the Abbot gave you a local guide, but expects you to solve the problem?"

"Oh, no! Brother Dorian is much more than a guide. He is quite talented, and very skilled for so young a man."

Rod noticed who was left solving the problem, though. "Skilled in what area?"

"As a musician. And a projective."

"Oh." Rod left his lips in the form of the letter. He glanced at the younger monk, chatting amiably with Gregory and Cordelia. "Isn't music a little—odd, for an engineer?"

"Not entirely, when you consider that he is continually trying to learn more about the interrelationships between psionic powers and music."

Insight exploded in Rod's mind. "Perfect combination, in light of the current crisis. But everybody thought what he was doing was pure research, without any practical application?"

"Oh, it was—until now."

"Yes, of course." Rod nodded. "As soon as you find some use for it, you stop calling it pure research. Might I infer, Father, that his interest is in some way allied to your own?"

"Quite accurately." The black man smiled. "I trained as an electrical engineer and managed to make a living designing musical intruments. But the more heavily involved I became, the more I realized that the computer programs involved might bear some resemblance to the musician's mental processes—and the more deeply I delved into that, the more I became convinced that musical talent had some kinship to psionic talent. Then, of course, I began speculating on the nature of talent—which led me to my vocation, and the Order."

"Of course." Actually, Rod didn't really see any link between talent and religion, but he wasn't about to
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open that topic just then. "So your research led you to Gramarye."

"To the only pool of operant espers in known space, yes—and I seem to have arrived at the ideal time for my researches."

"Ideal for us, too. When this is all over, I'll have to introduce you to Ari the Crafter—but only if you promise not to try to lock him up in a laboratory."

"The man who made these musical rocks? Excellent! But in the meantime, I think we have to deal with people whose talents may be exceptional, but are devoted to using mtfsic rather than making it."