My neck, as I made obeisance to them, prickled with unease. I reminded myself that they would not harm me: I had not, as far as I knew, offended the Spirits and my father had been highly favored by them. I had been summoned in good will. And yet my flesh crawled as the chief High Seer, a small, very wrinkled man, his face spotted brown with age, held out his hand for me to kiss the ring on his little finger. It was a band of gold, set with seven emeralds: Ezzard’s ring had only a single green stone in it. These were the great ones, the true familiars and servants of the Spirits. Even though I knew they wished me well, I feared them.
“So you are Luke,” he said, “the Prince in Waiting, heir to Winchester and Petersfield.”
“Yes, sire.”
“You have learned your catechism from Ezzard? Tell me, boy, what are the Spirits?”
“They are of two kinds, sire: the Spirits of Men, and the Eternals.”
“Describe them.”
“The Spirits of Men are those who have lived on earth. Their duty is to watch over their descendants who are still in the body. They are the lower order. The higher order is the Eternals, who have always been, will always be. Both orders serve the Great Spirit whose name and being are a mystery.”
“What is the duty of man?”
“To obey the commands of the Great Spirit in all things.”
“How is a man to know these commands?”
“They are revealed by the Spirits through the Seers.”
He nodded, bobbing his head, and I saw a little of the bare head under the black cowl, the skin smooth and taut in contrast to the wrinkled face.
“Well enough. Are the Spirits good or evil?”
I hesitated. It was not an easy question and not among those in the catechism which one answered by rote. I said:
“Some seem evil to men whom they punish. But it is men’s wickedness that is at fault. The Spirits only do the Great Spirit’s bidding.”
“And is the Great Spirit good or evil?”
The catechism came to my aid again. “He is beyond good and evil. He is, and all things serve him.”
“And you, Luke, do you obey the Spirits and worship the Great Spirit?”
“Yes, sire.”
“The Spirits are good to those who serve them. Like your father. They have rewarded him well. Is that not so?”
I thought of him as he had been when he was no more than a Captain, remembering his laugh which had seemed to come from deep in the belly, and as I had seen him that morning, silent in his chair staring at the picture on the wall. But it was true he had been given wealth and power, rule over not just one city but two. And he himself made no complaint against the Spirits.
I nodded. The High Seer said:
“Remember this always. All men are serfs to the Spirits, but they choose some to fulfill their will in special ways. Your father is such, and you are another. The Spirits have a mission for you to perform.”
I asked, curiosity overcoming my unease: “What is that, sire?”
“It is not time for it to be revealed. But the time will come. And when it does you must obey, unhesitatingly, with all your heart and soul. Do you promise this?”
“Yes, sire.”
“You must obey whatever the orders may be. Some will seem strange. Remember that while men are bound by the laws of the Spirits, the Spirits are bound only by the commands of the Great Spirit himself. They can change the laws they have made if that seems good to them.”
“I will remember, sire.”
“Good. Your destiny is a great one. The Spirits will aid you but much depends on yourself. We are glad to have seen you, and that you promise well. We take good news back to the Sanctuary.”
If the Seers knew all things and they were such intimates of the Spirits, I did not see that they could take back any news that was not known already. Perhaps, though, it was not meant literally but just as a vague commendation for my having made the right responses. I kissed his hand again before I left, and the hands of the other High Seers. The big one I had noticed at the feast looked bigger than ever, like an over-prosperous farmer, and I wondered again that he could nourish such a bulk on Spirits’ food. To my amazement he smiled at me.
“Are you a swordsman, Luke?”
I said cautiously: “I have learned sword play, and am still learning.”
“You will have a sword to be proud of one day. A sword of the Spirits.” I suppose I looked uncertain, and he went on: “No, but a real one—tougher and harder and sharper than anything the dwarfs can make. A sword for a Prince of Princes.” He smiled again. “We go back to see to the forging of it.”
• • •
I was to meet Edmund and Martin afterward. They asked me how it had gone and I told them some of what had passed, but nothing of the talk of great destinies or a sword of the Spirits. Edmund said:
“The usual mumbo jumbo, in fact. It is a pity, since the Spirits have such great powers, that they talk such rubbish.”
I did not chide him for blaspheming, as I had once chided Martin. I knew that, half believing in the Spirits, he wholly hated them; that remained even though he was now apparently reconciled to what had happened, to my father’s being Prince and me his heir. I was sorry that he took such risks but knew that argument would only make him worse. I expected Martin to say something less positive but indicating a measure of agreement: they infected each other in this. To my surprise, he said:
“I saw a Seer today also. Not a High Seer. Only Ezzard.”
I asked: “Why?”
“I am to be an Acolyte.”
“You’re joking!”
That was Edmund, incredulous. Martin said:
“No, it’s true.”
“You mean—you believe all this, you want to spend your life praying to the Spirits? Because a machine blew up and Luke’s father took Petersfield instead of getting himself killed and his army scattered as should have happened?”
“No,” Martin said, “because I want to find out.”
“Find out what?”
“The truth about the Spirits. Whatever it is, the Seers must know it.”
“And if there’s nothing to find out?”
He smiled. “Well, I’ll know that, won’t I?”
“Will you tell us?”
“Perhaps.”
I said sharply: “An Acolyte is bound by deep oaths. If he breaks them his life is forfeit, and in torture.”
Martin smiled again. “Or perhaps not. It depends.”
“You should not talk like that. It is dangerous even to have such thoughts.”
They both laughed. Edmund said:
“Poor Luke, you must remember he takes his Spirits very seriously. And why not? Perhaps we would if they looked after us as well as they do him. Shall I turn Acolyte with you, Martin? I don’t think so. I’d look an even bigger fool with a shaved head than you will.”
• • •
Another thing happened before the Christmas Feast: my cousin Peter married. He married a girl from the Christians, whom he had still been seeing. But he did not become a Christian himself and his marriage caused no great stir. A woman’s beliefs were not thought to be of much importance, and she was not one of the fanatical sort but a quiet, well-behaved girl. Not a beauty, either, but he seemed content with her.
It did not affect his standing with the other Captains, rather the reverse. With marriage his manner changed back to his old amiability and he was at his ease again and put them at theirs. To the reputation as a warrior he had gained in the summer was added popularity. He was thought a good fellow, no longer under the cloud of his mother’s crime and execution.
But when my father offered him a house as a wedding gift he refused it, politely enough, saying he preferred to go on living on the River Road. And when he and I met, although we gave each other greetings, we did not stop to speak.