In The Prince's Secret Service - 16. The First Intellegence Committee

“Are we going to ride into Arcadia as Alan’s friends back from a hunting trip, or should Kenneth and I separate now, and ride to the Temple?” James asked the critical question.

“There are probably people in Arcadia who know that Alan has been hunting, and that he was hunting in Agium when the baron’s son was rescued. On the other hand, it’s unlikely that anyone knows exactly how many of Alan’s friends were with him, and it’s almost certain that no one knows that two of them were clerics. On the other hand,” Patrick continued, “it’s going to be hard to conceal that James and Kenneth are clerics. On the other hand, it would certainly be odd for a couple of clerics to be on a hunting trip—despite what we learned about rich boys’ chaperones! I think we should split up. Shortly before we enter the city. James, you and Kenneth will take the bags with the spinning wheel and the mithral from the magic mill to Alten. Alan and Thom will go to Alan’s father’s house, and I’ll go to Master William’s house. I’m sure he…”

Alan interrupted, “No. Not. By no means. Never. Uh-uh. Forget it. You will come home with me. You and my father will shake hands, and you will be pleasant to one another.”

*****

“Very well, then,” James said. “Please tell Senior Alten that James and Kenneth are at the gate. We will wait his instructions, here.”

The acolyte on the Temple gate was apparently one of Senshen’s coterie, and refused to admit James and Kenneth. He could not very well refuse to send their message, but he did make sure that Senshen heard it first, and that it was significantly delayed in reaching Alten, so it was Senshen who came first to the gate.

“Well,” he said, standing arms akimbo and legs about two feet apart. “Well, the errant clerics return to the nest. You two are in considerable trouble. You, especially, young Kenneth…oh, yes, I remember your name…you, especially…you took vows, you know. And you, Brother James. I don’t know how they did things in Crooked Creek, or wherever in the backwoods you came from, but you’ll find that things are done differently here at the Mother Temple…”

Senshen’s tirade was interrupted by the arrival of Alten, whose calm voice cut through Senshen’s rant like a knife.

“The Mother Temple does not provide a haven to hubris. You,” he addressed Senshen, “are dismissed.”

Alten walked with James and Kenneth to the stable, where the horses were left, and then to his chapel, where Arne was waiting. After the boys greeted Arne, Alten spoke, “I suspect you’d like food. Arne, would you send for…Oh, you’ve already thought of it. Thank you. Then please, seal the door…no, no, come in, and then seal the door.”

In between bites, James and Kenneth described the contents of the two bags they’d guarded so closely. “This one has the ivory sticks and connector pieces, as well as a diagram Patrick made before disassembling the spinning wheel. The pieces are rolled up in long strips of cloth, which are numbered, so that each piece can be identified without having to mark them in any way. At least, that was the idea. It was mounted on two wooden stands…we brought them, as well, although they seemed pretty mundane.

“This bag may be even more important. It contains parts from what may have been a huge version of the spinning wheel that Patrick retrieved from a room under the magic mill about which we wrote. They’re just dumped in the bag, since the machine, if it was one, was destroyed. I should warn you,” James said to Arne who was about to open the second bag, “but I’m not. No, it won’t hurt you.”

Arne looked puzzled and gingerly emptied the bag onto the workbench they were using for a dining table. “Is this…?”

“Mithral,” Kenneth chortled. “Pure, unaltered…what else did Patrick call it?”

“Unalloyed. I asked him about that. Apparently something happens to mithral once it’s alloyed to another metal, and it’s impossible to purify it again,” James said. “Or if it’s purified, it’s not the same. He wasn’t sure, and I’m even less sure. I knew two boys in Bowling Green who were working with mithral…they were trying to mix it and un-mix it with different metals. I don’t know what success they had, though.”

“As far as any of us could tell…and Patrick is a superior mage…all this stuff is inert, magically. Neither Light nor Dark. Otherwise we’d not have wanted to bring it to the Temple.” James concluded his initial description.

*****

“Alec, you are in charge until I return,” Master William instructed his senior journeyman as he left his home at mid-morning. “I’ll be having lunch with the Chancellor—somewhere on the river, and won’t be back until late afternoon.”

William looked at Alec. “You’re capable of doing everything I can do, lad, as long as you don’t lose confidence in yourself.”

*****

It was one of Senshen’s toadies who brought the message to James and Kenneth. He was gloating as he spoke. “You two are summoned…ordered…to Government House. The Secretary of State’s office. I guess you didn’t properly register when you came to the city the other day. Perhaps someone will visit you in prison.”

*****

“Come on, boys, we’re going to be late,” Alan’s father said. “I want to show you the trophy boar I got on the last hunt. It’s in the Privy Council chamber…”

*****

“Ah, yes. James of Bowling Green and Kenneth of the Duchy of Carter. No, no, nothing really. We just need to update your registration. If you’ll follow me to my office,” the clerk offered.

The boys followed the tween down a long hallway and into a small office. Once the door was closed, the clerk’s demeanor changed completely. He smiled at the boys, and offered his hand. “My name is Henry,” he said. “The Pelican sends greetings and reminds you of the lunch you had together at the Dockside Dive.” When Kenneth and James had overcome their surprise at being greeted by an agent of the intelligence service, he asked, “Follow me, please,” and pressed the corner of a wooden panel, which slide aside to reveal a hallway, lit only by clerestory windows high in the walls. “Come on, they’re waiting.”

*****

William of Dunbar was sufficiently well known as a friend of the Chancellor of the Privy Purse that he was not challenged when he walked into that man’s office. “Thomas,” he said. “Nice to see you again. Lunch?”

The Chancellor spoke to his secretary. “We’ll go out the back way…I don’t want to see those petitioners.”

When the office door was closed, the Chancellor pressed upward on an unused coat hook. A panel in his wall opened to reveal a hallway lit only by clerestory windows. “We’ve plenty of time, but I happen to know that lunch will be served.”

*****

Alan’s father led the boys down an alley to a door which they entered unseen. “Well,” he said. “What’s a Privy Chamber if not private?” The door opened into a disused laundry. Sir Aaron pressed a particular tile near one of the sinks, and a panel in the wall opened to reveal a hallway lit only by clerestory windows. “Patrick, I asked especially for coffee…and then found out that the prince already knew of that particular perversion of yours.” His smile as he delivered this barb was a measure of the depth of the reconciliation between the two.

*****

“My lord, I’m sorry to be late,” Alten began, and then looked around the room that was empty save for Prince Auric.

“Not late, my friend,” the prince said. “I’m early. I still haven’t quite gotten over seeing people pop out of hidden doors. This must be Arne.” The prince stood and offered his hand to the tween.

“My lord,” Arne said, bobbing, unsure how to bow and shake hands with the prince at the same time.

“No courtship, here, Arne. My friend, your Senior, tells me that you are an accomplished cleric and mage, and that if it weren’t your devotion to him you long ago would have been elevated to the station you merit. Such loyalty does you great honor.”

Sir Aaron led his son, Alan, as well as Patrick and Thom, through the secret hallways to the meeting room. Prince Auric walked from the table to greet Patrick with a mug of coffee. “Patrick, my friend, I’ve missed our meetings over coffee. Truly, you are the only person I know who enjoys it as much as I. And you, you must be Squire Thomas of Fortmain. Had a right famous ancestor, you know.” The prince put his arm around the befuddled boy and pulled him a few feet away from his companions. “Look, there, in that painting. That’s the first Sir Thomas, there. He’s wearing brown and green, just as you are. Alan, come here, you look fit,” the prince hugged the boy.

With his voice pitched for Alan alone, the prince said, “And I understand you’re companion to Kenneth of Carter. I remember our visit to his father’s estates how many…20 years ago? You were so smitten by him, I thought you were going to trip over your boar spear…or your tongue.” Alan blushed.

Cadfael was next to arrive. He greeted Patrick and Alan enthusiastically. “Please, you must introduce me to your companions. Wait, don’t tell me…you’re Thom. Did you bring your quarterstaff? Not here, of course. I was a fifth-level champion when I was your age. Wouldn’t care to spar with you now, though. That’s your ancestor on the wall, there…Ah, the prince has already told you…”

William of Dunbar, accompanied by the Chancellor of the Privy Purse, entered through yet another panel. Patrick hurried to greet his old Master.

Henry, the clerk at the Secretary of State’s office, ushered James and Kenneth in through another door.

*****

At Prince Auric’s nod, Cadfael touched a mallet to a bell mounted at the head of the table. “This meeting of the First Intelligence Committee will be in order.” When all had found seats, he continued. “By command of his highness, Prince Auric, we are gathered to advise Arcadia. Master Patrick, as first among your companions, would you please summarize the situation and the issues as you see them.”

Patrick’s arm, which was in the process of bringing a coffee mug to his lips, did not pause, and he allowed himself the few seconds that sip of coffee afforded, to think.

“My lord, Master William…everyone…

“Point one: Our experiences and observations support the notion that Evil is actively seeking to return to Arcadia after being largely absent for several thousand years. We have observed episodic chaos, spurts of villainy, barratry in the Mercenaries Guild, bands of brigands raiding farms, caravans, and towns.

“Point two: With the exception of the forces operating from the swamp near Agium, there have been no concerted attacks. There seems to be no single locus or focal point. Most incursions are random and isolated.

“Point three: The Light is defending itself. Or Balance is being restored. I’m not sure which, and I’m reasonably certain that it doesn’t matter; the effect is the same: chaos, danger, uncertainty.

“Point four: There have been entirely too many coincidences. For example, our arrival in Agium the day after the baron received news that his son had been kidnapped; the servant boy in the Inn who knew where the baron’s son was being held, and who had access to just the boat we needed; the very existence of this band of companions.”

Alten spoke, “James, would you tell us what you’ve seen, from a cleric’s perspective?”

James adopted Patrick’s style, “First: There are places in Arcadia where the Light has dimmed. Temples have been attacked; Temples have been abandoned. Temple schools have been closed.

“Second: I’ve seen no pattern that would suggest that a single Evil entity is involved.

“Third: Our resources are stretched beyond the need.”

“Master William, could you share with everyone what you told me about the malaria?” Cadfael asked.

“Certainly, Master Cadfael. Some time ago, I received from Master Patrick samples of the blood of several people from Nut Grove, a village some days south of Fortmain, on the road to Agium. His letter suggested that the malaria parasite in the blood might be a mutated version, something that apparently James had deduced…although when I got the letter, I didn’t know who James was.

“I have examined the blood, and have asked colleagues to examine it without telling them what they were looking for. Our conclusions have been the same. The parasite, which I hereby name Plasmodium falciparum jamesii—the strain will be named after James, although no one can yet know who James is—is a mutation. To the best of our knowledge, it is not a natural mutation, a case where pestilence—one of the Four Horsemen—arises spontaneously in an area of Good, but one created by the application of magic.

“I am not a philosopher, gentlemen, but if I were I would characterize the rise of the mutated parasite to be an example of Evil striking at Good; and the timely arrival of these companions as an example of the Light striking back at the Darkness.”

Cadfael nodded to Alten, who continued the discussion. “We in this room are the only ones who know about the potential of the spinning wheel and the magic mill. Cadfael’s agent in Fortmain knows that the companions removed a ‘spinning wheel’ from the cavern and brought it to Arcadia, but he does not know what that name refers to.” Alten paused.

“Arne and I have examined the components of the spinning wheel and the magic mill, and we believe Patrick’s analysis is correct: they both were used—or designed to be used—to gather magic. The spinning wheel may have been a prototype, or a completely different development. The magic mill was constructed at great cost and effort: the amount of mithral, rare even earlier in this Age if what we know is correct, attests to that. It is likely, then, that the magic mill did work. As an aside, I suspect that the gear mechanism in the crown of the mill may be of mithral. If so, it should be recovered.

“The more important question, however, is whether we should pursue the creation of such a device, or should we destroy the materials we have and pledge never to reveal what we already know.”

*****

The decision had been made. Alten would attempt to reassemble the “spinning wheel” and, if it successfully captured magical energy, to build a larger version. The work would be done in the palace compound. The meeting of the First Intelligence Committee was officially adjourned, but the participants stayed for private conversations.

“Senior Alten, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I felt compelled to say what I believed…I did not mean to hurt you…I’ve betrayed you…” James said, and then stood mute.

“Hush, my friend,” Alten said, “You told the truth in the Service of the Light. What you said needed to be said. It is something that I have known, but not been willing to face. Your courage is greater than mine…

“James, should you encounter anyone who you believe is Good, and who would be a candidate cleric, send them to me. You are correct; our resources are strained, and we must begin recruiting and training tens…hundreds…hundreds more acolytes, and we must train them as you wanted to be trained…and warrior-clerics…the paladins of the future.”

Across the room, Patrick unburdened himself to Cadfael. “The meeting of Alan and me at Master Edo’s might have been an accident; our meeting Thom and his finding an ancient, magical weapon that still functioned might have been accidents; Kenneth’s meeting James might have been an accident, and our meeting them…and on, and on. However, taken together, these things are not accidental, but are a reaction of the World to the incursions of Evil. Baron Centis told us that Prince Auric had honored us along with his squire and the other boy in Agium who went to the Troll-Mage’s Fortress. However, I cannot help but feel that we are merely pages in a giant chess game.”

“Patrick,” Cadfael replied, “you have touched on one of the most difficult matters that any person can consider: do we truly have free will? Or are we all the pages—tools if you will—of powers so much greater than ourselves that we cannot even begin to understand them. Light and Dark, Good and Evil are the names we have given to two seemingly opposite forces that we think are real. We’re not even sure of that. We know that magic is real, because a person with a gift or training can see it and use it. Most uses of magic are neutral. Using boy magic to clean clothes or one’s body is neutral. A smith using magic to forge a plowshare or a sword—that’s neutral. A stone mason using magic to strengthen the bond between bricks when he builds a fence or the wall of a house—that’s neutral. Sometimes we characterize the use of magic as Good or Evil, and we see a person who uses magic for Good as being bathed in a white or golden light. We see a person who uses magic for Evil as being covered in darkness. But we don’t know why that is.

“Healing is considered a Good use of magic, and you and James and Kenneth have a golden glow that we associate with healers. But what if the person we heal becomes a murderer and kills a child? Was the healing still Good?

“Killing is generally considered Evil, unless one kills in defense of the Light; yet killing leaves a mark on a person, and that mark is the same whether the person killed in defense of the Light, or to save his own life, or in an evil cause.

“Patrick, I truly don’t know whether you and your companions are tools of the Light. I do know this, however. What you are doing is Good. What you are doing is Right. When all is said and done, I trust my heart.

“I also know this: you and your companions deserve the honors the prince bestowed upon you.”

“Master Cadfael,” Patrick asked abruptly, “how many First Intelligence Committees are there?”

“Master Patrick, I should answer you as I did those months ago when you asked if the farmers we visited were members of my intelligence network. I should tell you that information you do not have cannot be compromised by accident or through torture. However, something tells me I should not. There is only one…

“When the prince wrote to Baron Centis that you and your companions were the best he had, he was quite serious. Not to detract from that, you and your companions are the only people of your stature he has.”

Postscript

Sir Aaron embraced his son, Alan, and then the boy’s companion. Sir Aaron spoke for Patrick’s ear alone. “Patrick, when you saved my son’s life, I had no idea how closely you would become bound, nor to what great and noble ends you would lead him. As his father, I tremble on this morning; as a servant of the Light and of my prince, I know how important your adventure is. Please, bring my son home again, or send word of his honorable death.”

Patrick returned Sir Aaron’s embrace, “My love for Alan can never be as great as his father’s, but on that love, I swear to do as you ask, if the Light permits.”

Sir Aaron nodded, knowing that what Patrick promised was all that could be promised.