"But brewing spells with physical objects for symbols is lengthy and cumbersome, though the magic is extremely potent," Friar Ignatius said. "In the field, a magician will rely on words and gestures."
"But how could that do any good? How could physical symbols do any good, for that matter?"
"Because, Master Wizard, the symbol is the thing."
I stared and clamped my jaws shut. In my universe, one of the cardinal principles of semantics was that the symbol was not the thing.
Well, other universes, other natural laws.
"The whole of one's being must be gathered together and directed," Friar Ignatius explained, "that all the energies within and around our bodies may form and fashion the magical energy to our purpose. Symbols are the tools we use to so solidify our beings - and the more powerful the symbol, the more fully are the various parts of ourselves gathered together."
"So whether we're drawing on God to help us focus our own energies is a matter of whether or not we want to," I interpreted.
"'Focus' - an excellent term!" Friar Ignatius clapped his hands. "I should have thought of turning to mathematics for my concepts! I thank you, Wizard Saul."
I shivered, wondering what I had done. This "magic field" he was talking about seemed to be this universe's equivalent of electromagnetism - and I knew darn well what our own physicists and engineers had been able to do with electricity and magnetism, once they had started shaping their thinking according to mathematical principles. What would happen here, if Friar Ignatius started applying math to magic?
Amazing things, I didn't doubt - because I had a very strong suspicion that it really was possible to manipulate that magic field without drawing on either good or evil. It was an impersonal force, after all - the personal element came when you tried to draw on the power of supernatural beings to help you control it. Besides, I was still trying to think of those beings as imaginary - in which case, they served as very, very powerful symbols.
Powerful, indeed - they tapped directly into the subconscious. I thought of my hallucinatory guardian angel and shuddered. "I wouldn't be so extreme," I said easily. "After all, we're talking about an art, not a trade. So words are symbols, and poetry concentrates meaning - so the better the poetry, the more powerful the spell?" Frisson's eyes were so wide they almost bulged.
"Aye," Friar Ignatius said, "and poetry that is sung, is more powerful still."
"Sung?" I frowned. "How does that work?"
"Because there is order in melody," Friar Ignatius explained, "that adds its strength to the order of rhyme and meter; and because song is felt throughout the body, and thereby incorporates all of our energies."
My spirits sank; I had a tin ear. But Frisson's face lit with delight.
"I have a passable voice."
"Then bend your thoughts toward God and goodness." Friar Ignatius said, turning to him. "Meditate on Him, that your magic may be for the benefit of others, and the strenthening of goodness." Frisson gazed at him, eyes glowing, and nodded. "Aye, for we go up against great evil, Friar Ignatius."
"The power of goodness must needs be greater than the power of evil," Friar Ignatius rejoined, "for it doth draw on God, the Ultimate Source. " I sat bolt upright. "You aren't trying to tell me that good will always triumph over evil!"
"It will, if all other elements are equal," Friar Ignatius said.
"No demon can stand against an angel, and white magic is much more powerful than black. But it is more difficult to be good than to be wicked, and more difficult to master white magic than black. Fasting, prayer, self-discipline, returning good for evil - these are difficult. To give in to anger and the lust for revenge is easy." I thought about the Taoists and Zen Buddhists, and kept thinking. But Frisson spoke. "We must needs confront a vile sorceress and her minions, Friar Ignatius. We will need all the strength that God can lend."
"His grace is there for all," the monk murmured, "if we will but be open to it."
"I think," Frisson said, "that I must learn to pray." For some reason, that sent shivers down my spine. I tried changing the subject. "Was this why the queen had Thyme tie you up?" Friar Ignatius turned to me, a strange light in his eyes. "So you have guessed that, too, Master Wizard! Yes, I had wondered - though I cannot prove that. Still, 'tis quite possible that it was the queen of Allustria who drove our ship to the nymph's isle - for she could not damage me herself, as long as I remained devoted to God."
"And if anybody could break that devotion," I said, "it would have been Thyme. But why did the queen want you out of the way? Was she afraid you might convince some of her sorcerers to repent and start working toward sainthood?"
"As do we all," Friar Ignatius reminded me, "if we do not despair. That is possible, Master Saul, but I think it more likely that she wished me imprisoned so that my ideas of human life would not spread."
"Ideas about the riddle of human existence?" I frowned. "How could that hurt her?"
Friar Ignatius bowed his head, hiding a smile of bitter amusement. When he looked up again, his face was bland and his smile gentle once more. "I have gathered wisdom from the East and from the West, Master Saul, and let go of those parts that I did not feel consistent wit'n the whole. What is left is somewhat irreverent; indeed, those in positions of power might think I mock them, or the very notion of their right to authority."
"You mean you've come up with ideas that are a threat to the queen?" I frowned. "How?"
"Because, taken together, they add up to the notion that folk need not depend on the crown for their sustenance or safety, but only on God, on themselves, and on their neighbors."
"Decentralization!" I stared, thunderstruck. "My lord! No wonder Suettay's out to get you! You're threatening her bureaucracy!"
He frowned. "What is a 'bureaucracy'?"
"Government by desks," I said. "Behind each desk sits a clerk, but they come and go, and the desks stay. Each desk has a bigger desk it answers to - the more powerful clerks answer to other more powerful clerks, and on up to the queen herself."
"Then you see clearly, Master Saul." Again, he gave me that strange, close look. "You know that her clerks do make her the center of authority of the land and give her control over the least of her subjects, no matter how far from her castle they may be."
"I'm familiar with the basic idea, yes."
"And with the notion that each subject must do as he is told, without question?"
"With the notion, yes. Not with the fact - my countrymen tend to do a lot of questioning, and complaining, too, and sometimes they even manage to go around the lower desks and go right to the top and get satisfaction."
His eyes glowed. "A marvelous people! Small wonder you are the one who can aid this land!"
"I didn't say I was one of the ones who succeeded." I stirred restlessly. "On the other hand, in my own world, I've heard of countries where the people don't dare complain, or even ask any questions."
"Allustria's like that, huh?"
"Aye-and if you know the manner of it, then you must be able to imagine what would hap if each of those subjects were convinced that he was the master of his destiny, and that he himself had the duty of choosing what he would and would not do."
I could feel my eyes snap wide. "That's your theology?" He shrugged uncomfortably. "A part of it, yes. But 'tis truly quite old - Christians have always believed in free will, believed that 'tis for each of us to choose whether to sin or not to sin, whether to work toward Heaven or lapse toward Hell."
"But a tyrant like the queen can gain a lot of mileage if she can convince her people that they're all bound for Hell already, so they might as well do what she says and keep from having pain in this world - and gain anything she's willing to give them for rewards."