How could he counteract that?
Narlh interrupted his musing, turning to Matt with new respect, almost awe, in his eyes. "You don't do anything by half measures, do you?"
"On the contrary," Matt said. "I try to keep a sense of balance."
"If this is your idea of the middle, I'd hate to see you really let yourself go!"
"It's an interesting idea," Matt admitted. He wondered if he'd have the courage to do it—or the foolishness.
He turned to Narlh, pushing the topic aside. "Glad to see you're all tucked in."
"Why? Should I stay up and pace?"
"Not at all—I meant it. I'll take first watch."
"First watch?" The dracogriff frowned. "What's that?"
"Just what it says—staying awake and watching for enemies," Matt explained. "I'll wake you when the moon is at its highest—then you can guard me."
Narlh nodded slowly. "Smart. Very smart."
"Inspired," Matt said witheringly. "Evolution took care of the ones who didn't think of it. Shall I sing a lullaby?"
"Oh, no, that's all right," Narlh said quickly. He put his head back on his paws and closed his eyes.
"Already heard me sing," Matt muttered. Still, everything was under as much control as he could manage; he sat down cross-legged by the fire, keeping his back straight and looking over the flames toward the darkness. He patrolled with his eyes, letting his gaze move slowly over the clearing from left to right, then turning to look back over each shoulder, then front again. The trees were the things to worry about there was no telling what might come from them. Or how; he memorized the position of each bush and rock, in case an enemy might try to sneak up under camouflage. He didn't really expect to see anything—the only enemies who wouldn't be frightened by his wall of flame were the ones who would be attracted by its magic; and they were more apt to appear in a burst of thunder than to sneak up. No way to see them ahead of time, of course—but at least he could be awake to do something about it.
He settled into the vigil, letting himself sink into a reverie, his eyes still watchful for anything unusual, keeping their patrolling pattern, while a part of his mind mulled over the day's events and problems.
Alisande came first to mind, of course. Now that there was a moment of stillness, he was surprised how much he missed her—her laughter...the glint of her eye...the occasional, very restrained, flirtation...her sudden bursts of anger, quickly controlled...her iron-hard resolve when she was crossed...her insistence on propriety...her avoidance of a wedding...
He took a deep breath, realizing he was growing angry again. Too much of a distraction; he was supposed to be on guard. Oddly, though, even his pique couldn't quite cover up the hollowness within him when he thought of her. Even if he had to be caught and shipped back to her, he decided, he did want to get back.
How could he arrange to get caught? Without being executed shortly afterward, that is.
Light flared.
A huge ball of light, too bright and too clear to be flame, so vivid that the blaze of his camp fire seemed to pale beside it.
Matt was on his feet, a dozen verses rushing through his mind, hoping that he'd be able to see what kind of creature this was who had invaded his circle in time to choose a spell and cast it. The bright, clear light made it unlikely to be a sorcerer, but what else was there in Ibile?
Then the core of the flare seemed to coalesce, and a form became discernible within it—something humanoid, with a suggestion of huge wings, and a face that shone so brightly that its features couldn't be seen. Matt raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sight, but a voice echoed inside his head: "Wherefore mockest thou the Lord, vowing aye and doing nay?"
Matt stared, taken aback. Then, slowly, he lowered his hand and said, "I beg your pardon?"
"Even now, thou didst seek a means to evade thy vow." The light-form's tones deepened, with the beginnings of anger.
"Hey, now, wait a minute!" Matt held up a hand—and was surprised to see the little hairs on the back standing straight up. Now that he thought of it, his whole scalp was prickling. Whatever this being was, it packed a lot of voltage. "I think you were taking me too literally!"
"Literally!" The form's voice was a whiplash. "Aye, to the letter! Dost thou care naught for the words thou dost use?"
"Of course not! I was an English major..."
"Then thou art bound by them—to the word, if not the letter, and most assuredly to the spirit!"
"No! I didn't mean..."
"Thou hadst warning. Did not our Lord tell thee to say "yes' when thou didst mean `yes,' and `no' when thou didst mean 'no'?"
"Not that I remember, no. In fact, I'm not aware of ever having had a chat with Him..."
"Hast thou never prayed?" the light thundered. "Then didst thou converse with thy God! Hast thou never bided in silence long enough to feel the impulse toward good within thee? Then didst thou hear His answer! And when thou hast read the Gospel, thou hast heard His word!"
With a sinking heart, Matt remembered hearing the passage about prayer being read at Mass one Sunday. Stalling, he said, "Hold on a minute! You might be a devil, sent to tempt me to my doom! How do I know you come from God?"
"Canst thou truly doubt it?" The anger was approaching righteous wrath—and, in truth, Matt felt a growing certainty inside him. But the form of light went on. "Canst thou doubt that I am an emissary from the God of Abraham and Isaac, and His Son Jesus Christ?"
At the mention of the Holy Name, Matt's fear stilled. He was, after all, on the same side as the form of light; he needn't fear it. "He said we would know one another in the breaking of bread."
The center of the form of light grew out, separated into two hands holding a glowing loaf. They broke the bread in half and held out one piece. "Take, then, and eat—if thou dost think thyself worthy."
Matt paused in midgrab. "There was some talk about my actions, wasn't there?",
"Thy words, say rather."
"All right, my words." Matt eyed the glowing form narrowly. "Are you an angel, then?"
"I am."
Somehow, Matt couldn't doubt it. "Your pardon—and God's. My intention did not accord with my words."
The form was still; a high-pitched humming emanated from it for a moment. Then it said, "It is true—thou didst grow to manhood on an impious world, whose folk have long forgot the Third Commandment."
"Forgotten it, yes. Even people who claim to be religious use the word god as an expletive."
" 'Tis even as thou sayest." There was as much sadness as anger now in the angel's tone. "Yet surely thou, who wast trained to know the power of words and hast seen such power made clear in Merovence these three years past, should have known the impiety of that foul usage!"
"Yes." Matt's heart grew heavy. "Yes, I should have. But I was very upset, you see, and in my anger I spoke foolishly, without thinking."
The angel stood in silence; Matt heard only the humming which, he suspected, came from physical causes—molecules impacting an electromagnetic field about it?
The thought made him suddenly aware of a feeling that had been growing all along—a feeling of having been steered, manipulated. He narrowed his eyes. "Is not the Lord a little quick about taking my vow literally? Does He not consider my intentions in it? I sinned, in taking His name in vain—but would He not forgive, and release me from my geas?"
"He will forgive any human sin, as thou knowest! Yet what audacity hast thou, to ask Him to release thee!"
"I know." Matt bowed his head. "But the fact of the matter is that I didn't mean what I said—and when I realized what I was taking on, I definitely wanted to be free of it! Will the Lord really compel me to so suicidal a course?"