Fess's head swiveled to gaze directly into Rod's eyes.
"Just send it," Rod urged.
"You could at least mix your metaphors clearly," Fess sighed. "Very well, Rod."
He didn't move; he didn't have to. The section of his metal body that faced toward Terra suddenly became an antenna for the warp transmitter buried inside him, shooting an elongated beep at the sky. "Transmission completed."
Rod nodded, satisfied. " 'Fraid we can't wait around for Brother Al's answer, though. It'll take them a few hours to locate him, and of course he'll need to confer with His Holiness. Wonder what they'll do about it?"
"I trust they will let us know."
"Why, how is this?" Brother Alfonso's voice sizzled with anger. "How canst thou have failed! There were two of thee for every one of them! Thou hadst but to fall upon them, knock them senseless, and bear them home!" He fell silent, eyes narrowed, glaring at Father Thorn. Then, just as the monk started to answer, Brother Alfonso snapped, "Thy bravery failed thee."
Father Thorn's jaw finned. "Say, rather, that we were loathe to strike at brothers."
"They are brothers no longer, but traitors! Aye, yet traitors who spoke thee fair and welcomed thee with open arms and laden tables, did they not?"
"They greeted us with joy," Father Thorn acknowledged, "and we did break bread with them. Yet when we sought to convince them of the error of their ways, they were obdurate."
"Then couldst thou not have fallen upon them?"
"We did, to our shame." Father Thorn lowered his head, shoulders hunching. "For look you, we are men of faith, not of arms!"
"Yet I bade thee bring them back by fair means or foul! Thou assured me thou wouldst, for all in this land would fare better if clergy ruled! Thou wert two to their one, and thou hadst set upon them! Couldst thou not defeat them?"
"Nay, for they bore arms, even as we did, and had learned the use of them betimes."
"Thou knowest their use also! Could each of them fight as well as two of thee?"
"For a short space," Father Thorn admitted. "Ere we could prevail, a bailiff burst upon us with a band of soldiers."
"So!" Brother Alfonso's eyes widened. "How chanced they to be nearby?"
"I have no knowledge," Father Thorn answered, and the other would-be bandits muttered to one another behind him, suddenly apprehensive.
"There are several ways to it," Brother Alfonso snapped, "yet they all come to this: that the King hath knowledge of our actions!" He scanned the appalled monks with a gimlet glare. "How could that chance? Why, in that one or more of thee have failed to ward thy thoughts from reading!"
"Or…" Father Thorn swallowed, unable to form the words.
Brother Alfonso nodded, stony-faced. "Or that one of our number is a spy. What, brothers! Tis bad enough that the King might know our actions—yet what will chance if our good Abbot learns of them?"
The monks exchanged appalled glances. " 'Twould be hard fasting and long prayers alone, at the least," one whispered.
"Or that, and a scourging and defrocking," Brother Alfonso snarled.
The monks fell silent, staring, appalled at the thought of being cast out of the monastery, and out of the Order.
Brother Alfonso nodded, narrow-eyed, looking at each of them in turn. "That, or worse. Therefore, brothers, be certain to speak of this fool's errand to no one—and to watch one another closely, to be sure no other doth." His voice fell ominously. "And be certain to obey mine orders henceforth."
They stared at him, shocked. Then Father Thorn summoned up nerve to scowl and say, "Thou canst not afright us thus! Thou canst not say what we have done without casting blame on thyself also!"
"Be not so sure," Brother Alfonso ground out.
Father Thorn blanched, but went on with determination. "What thou hast said would hap to us, would hap also to thee."
"Aye," Brother Alfonso snapped, "and therein lies my concern. Be sure, brothers—whosoe'er shall bear the blame for this night's work, I am determined 'twill not be myself! Ward each other well, and heed my commands!"
Rod had made his way home after sending his message. So he was sitting by as though he were waiting, when the children crashed through the door as though it were a purely theoretical construct. "Papa! Papa!"
"Mama! Mama!"
"Pama! Mapa!"
"Hold it!" Rod called, regretfully shelving some remarkably scurrilous plans he'd been entertaining.
Silence bloomed.
"Now." Rod exhaled sharply. "What's the crisis?"
" 'Tis a nasty sneak!"
" 'Tis a loathsome spy!"
" 'Tis a renegade 'gainst all the witches!"
That caught Rod's attention. "Hold it! Let's have a little sense, here." He pointed at Magnus. "What happened?"
"Cordelia felt the faintest touch of a thought-hearer listening and hoping none would remark him, Papa."
Fury lit, and Rod opened his mouth for an outburst, almost beside himself, but Gwen was beside himself, too, and managed to speak before he could get started. "How couldst thou know that, Cordelia?"
"We were playing, Mama, and of a sudden I felt the faintest hint of a presence, like the gossamer of abandoned spider webs, breeze—tossed. I stilled, and hearkened, and could just be certain 'twas still there—not thinking, nor giving out of any thoughts, but hearkening even as I hearkened."
Gwen nodded. " 'Twas one who listened, then. But thou knowest this could have been naught but the phantasm of thine own mind." Cordelia was just beginning to hit the unstable age.
"Yet we all heard it, Mama!" Geoff stated.
Cordelia nodded. "I told them what I heard, and they did hearken also."
Magnus nodded too. " 'Twas even as she saith. Was't not, mite?"
Gregory nodded, wide-eyed. "The very image."
"You seem to be recognizing this." Rod had managed to calm down a bit.
"Having my mind probed by a thought-hearer?" Magnus smiled, amused. "How could I not know the feel of it, in this house?"
"True, true." Rod nodded. "I suppose every esper child gets used to it, if he has esper siblings." He turned to Gwen, frowning. "How'd the Abbot manage this one?"
Gwen looked up, startled. "My lord! Thou dost not think—"
"That this eavesdropping 'witch' is working for the Abbot?" Rod shrugged. "Who else would be wanting spies right now? And doesn't already have them, of course. Tuan and Catharine have the Royal Coven, if they're unethical enough to use it."
"Only when war hath already been declared," Geoff said quickly.
Rod nodded. "But the Abbot, not being a professional, might not be so scrupulous. No, I think it's a safe bet that the two are related—and from where I sit, that means His Grace has managed to persuade some witch-folk to work for him." He frowned. "Wonder how he convinced them?"
"Dost thou not guess too rashly, Papa?" Gregory asked.
"There could be many others who grow restive, or even one who hath—"
"A common cause. Yeah, I know." Privately, Rod gave his youngest points for insight. "But that would be too much of a coincidence, for the Abbot to start stirring up trouble again exactly when somebody else happens to take up mind-spying. I'll try to keep my mind open for the possibility, son, but from where I sit, this looks like the safest bet. You're right, though—we need to know more about our mental spy."
"Or spies," Geoff noted.
Rod nodded. "Amended." He turned to Gwen. "Mind asking Toby over? He was still running the Royal Coven, last I knew."
"Goody!" Gregory cried, and Cordelia clapped her hands.
"He is ever welcome." Gwen's smiled wanned. "And aye, husband, he is best for bidding the Crown's witch-folk be alert and hearken for listeners."
"Without letting Their Majesties know, of course." Rod nodded. "Tuan might decide it's being too sneaky too soon."