Later, at the cardinal’s request, Blacktooth explained the situation to Hultor Bråm before the sharf left town. “He will be the representative of the Pope to all of the hordes, and govern all Churches and missions both north and south of the Nady Ann. However, you must not speak of it before it is accomplished.”
The sharf shook his head. “He will not be accepted by the Grasshopper,” Bråm growled, commenting on the appointment, “unless your master makes his peace with the Høngin Fujæ Vurn, as he has promised. And the Bear Spirit must be consulted.”
“It seems,” said Brownpony, when Blacktooth relayed the remark to his employer, “that ever since I made the mistake of denouncing Yordin’s speech, I have been ambushed by unpleasant surprises, not all of them from my enemies. Aren’t you astonished, Nimmy?”
“Not altogether, since I provided one unpleasant surprise myself.” It was as close as he had come to an apology, but the cardinal just looked at him curiously.
The monk’s attitude toward Brownpony had been tainted by suspicion, but not to the extent of doubting that the deeds of his friend, Pope Amen Specklebird, were entirely unexpected by the cardinal. Perhaps it had been Sorely Cardinal Nauwhat or Hilan Bleze who, during Brownpony’s absence, had put Amen in mind of making all Nomadic territory an Apostolic Vicariate, to be ruled as a diocese would be, but by a bishop directly responsible to the Pope, clearly ending the de facto role of the Texark Archdiocese as missioner to the conquered province. The Churches throughout that Province were now headed by missionaries appointed by Urion Cardinal Benefez, but in no way had the Province been added to the Texarkana diocese. Most of its first priests had been military chaplains. But to create a papally dominated Vicariate out of the whole domain of the Three Hordes was to deprive Benefez of power and revenue throughout half of his nephew’s domain. Could a holy old hermit come up with such an idea without a sinister force at his elbow? The sinister force might indeed be the Holy Ghost, so far as Blacktooth could distinguish. The old man was, as Saint Leibowitz used to say, “Independent as a hog on ice.” It was an idea just crazy enough to have come from either God or Specklebird. Or as Urion Benefez might say, from either Satan or Brownpony. The very fact that the Red Deacon became an overnight archbishop made it evident, to anyone who wished to think so, that the promotion was a coup, coaxed by cunning out of a crazy old pope-contender who began to rule before he was legally elected.
Elia Brownpony’s ordination as a priest and consecration as Bishop of Palermo were conducted in secret ceremonies to which no one was admitted except the participants, nor did Blacktooth’s master change his manner of dress or wear a bishop’s ring until he was ready to leave the city for the Plains, somewhat in advance of the Pope’s own departure for New Rome. It was clear that Filpeo Harq and Urion Benefez were to remain in ignorance of Brownpony’s new rank and office until his acceptance by the Nomads of all three hordes as the spiritual leader of Christians on the Plains and in the Province had been established.
“There’s no doubt they’ll hear about it, Nimmy,” the cardinal told him. “But only the Pope will inform them officially, and when he’s ready to tell them. Now I have a new task for you. You will find your predecessor has taken over your office for the time being. I am going to visit first Chür Høngan, then Hultor Bråm.
“Deliver my written message to Mayor Dion in New Jerusalem; among other things, it introduces you. Tell them that Sorely Cardinal Nauwhat will, for the time being, be in charge of the Secretariat. Tell them that Ulad is out of control and must be replaced. If they insist on knowing why I refused to deal with Ædrea, I suppose you’ll have to say she became too intimate with clergy.”
“I am ashamed, m’Lord.”
“How about contrite? Never mind. Do your best to mollify them. Learn as much as you need to know about New Jerusalem. Along the Way, let Wooshin brief you on what is going to happen. These things are secret for the present, although they are becoming less secret every day. You may, or may not, continue working at the Secretariat—for Cardinal Nauwhat. You may report back to him, if you wish. If he finds no use for you, he will tell you where to find me, or you may go back to your girlfriend in Arch Hollow and perhaps find a home in the colony. Or you may go beg them to take you back at the abbey, or become a hermit. I do not want to see you again unless and until this attachment is behind you.”
“I expected to be dismissed, m’Lord. I did not obey.”
“We’ll see how it goes with you.”
“And Axe is coming with me?”
“Along with all six of Cardinal Ri’s men, and someone from the other wing—Elkin, I believe you know him.”
“I didn’t know he was from the other wing. I thought he was just a receptionist.”
“Top security, and also a fighter almost in Wooshin’s class. He was at Leibowitz Abbey once. You’ll have a lot of expensive baggage with you, a twelve-mule train, but that will be Ulad’s and Elkin’s responsibility. When it’s safe, they may let you and Ulad and Axe ride on ahead of the train and shorten your journey. Pack your habit and wear something else on the trail. You can put your habit back on when you arrive. Nimmy, I’m trusting you with new secrets.”
“I’ll be careful. And you, m’Lord?”
“I go to the convention of all the shamans of the hordes, all the Weejus and Bear Spirit people. I hope, with help from Holy Madness and Father e’Laiden, to be admitted as a Christian shaman observer and explain my new role.”
“Hultor Bråm will try to keep you out.”
“Of course, but the Jackrabbit will want to hear what I have to say, because they will be most affected by the transition. Bråm can’t put together a majority. His grandmother might be able to do it, but she won’t Depending on what happens, I may go on to New Rome after the Pope, or even to Texark. Goodbye now, Nimmy. I would bless you, but you have heard me say I have no calling, yet here I am, a pretender.”
“M’Lord, I know from history that once upon a time in a much earlier Church, a vocation to the priesthood meant a call from the bishop, not necessarily a call from God. And I heard the Bishop of Rome himself call you to be that which you have now become by ordination and consecration.”
The cardinal smiled. “Thank you, Nimmy. Bless you, then, until tomorrow.”
Blacktooth bent to kiss his ring, but the cardinal avoided his lips, squeezed his hand, said, “We’ll say goodbye again tomorrow,” and was gone.
Nimmy found himself near tears, and began to pray as he walked toward the nearest Church. Brownpony had been to him like a kindly Nomad father who was never drunk, while Abbot Jarad had been like a sterner Nomad uncle, always judging and finding fault. But he had missed the latter; he knew he would miss the former more. He knew too that loving people was a way of loving God, but to be attached to the one loved was not proper for a poor monk, and evidence of worldliness or delusion. Not wrong to love, but wrong to be attached to the one loved, for always came the anguish of tearing loose from all impermanent things.
By the morrow, he had sufficiently recovered from his lapse of anxious worldliness to think of his former roommate and then confidently cajole his beloved (and possibly bedamned) cardinal into interviewing Aberlott, who as a friend of the late Jæsis could serve well as an emissary from SEEC to the dead student’s family and help convince the ruling council that nobody had exposed Jæsis as a spook until the police learned of it after his death. There was suspicion at both ends, in the relationship between the colony and the Secretariat, which would now be managed temporarily by Sorely Cardinal Nauwhat, and Brownpony agreed that some gesture of reconciliation was advisable.