“And why should a great prince tell an embroideress why he comes and goes?” She seemed, as always, to find me highly entertaining.
“Well, you live here in the city, and I understand he comes here often.” I paused for a moment, thinking. “Why, when Caelrhon is so much larger a kingdom than Yurt, does the king of Caelrhon not even have his own castle in his own cathedral city?”
“I’m sure you don’t want me to tell you,” said Theodora, trying to suppress a smile, “that great princes don’t explain these things to embroideresses.”
“Paul will know,” I said. Theodora knew about Paul. I had told her a little about Yurt, hoping that in return she would tell me more about herself. But from my account she would have gathered that after the old king had died the royal heir brought himself up with the aid of his great-aunt and the castle staff, for I never mentioned the queen.
I thought, as I already had several times, that I was caught between finding Theodora highly elusive and knowing her better than I had ever known anyone. She had quickly learned everything — or almost everything-important there was to know about me, and yet I often felt there were whole aspects of her life that were still hidden. But then she would casually tell me something in a way that suggested she had never meant to keep any secrets.
“I’d like to meet Paul,” she said thoughtfully.
Reason reasserted itself after two jealous seconds. Paul must be ten years younger than she was and would probably consider her a contemporary of his Aunt Maria.
On the other hand, I reminded myself, she was twenty years younger than I. For the first time since I had become a wizard, I wished that I looked less old and venerable rather than more so. “Has it ever bothered you that I have white hair?”
“No,” she said, with a teasing smile that brought out her dimple. “I assumed that that was just an emblem of your wisdom.”
“You still haven’t told me,” I said. “Why, when the Romneys left town to avoid telling me about you, did you seek me out yourself?”
“I had to see whether I approved, of course, of the man who was supposed to use his magic to protect the cathedral. And did you ever think you aren’t like most wizards?”
I wasn’t sure what this meant and thought it safest to leave it while it might still be a compliment. “Did you ever meet Sengrim, the late Royal Wizard of Caelrhon?”
“He was here in the city a number of times over the years,” she said slowly. “I wouldn’t say I ever actually met him.” Her tone suggested that he was one of the wizards I was not like.
“Prince Lucas dismissed him, and I wish I knew why.”
“A secret quarrel, clearly not suitable for witches to hear,” she said with another smile. “Shall I make more tea?”
I nodded but refused to be distracted.. “I have an idea about that wizard,” I said. “I notice Prince Lucas’s wife isn’t with him.”
“I remember his wedding,” Theodora said reminiscently, refilling the pot with boiling water from the hearth. “It was one of the most exciting events in the city in years. They were married in the cathedral on one of the hottest summer days I’ve ever seen. The princess had her own gown made in the great City by the sea, but I helped make some of the bridesmaids’ gowns. The princess paid better than anyone around here; I lived on the money for three months. I hope she hasn’t found life in a small inland kingdom too dull-though she does have her children now.”
“But she found a way to liven up her life!” I interrupted. “I think she had a torrid romance with their Royal Wizard! That’s why Prince Lucas dismissed him and became so furious when I even mentioned him. You don’t think-you don’t think Lucas deliberately arranged for the ‘accident’ that killed him?”
Theodora poured out the tea, looking at me from under long lashes. “Why would a wizard have a romance with a princess? I’d always heard they were as chaste as priests.”
I knew she was teasing me again but answered seriously. “It is traditional that wizards never marry, but it’s very different from the situation in the priesthood. A wizard is not considered to have sinned against wizardry and blackened his soul by being with a woman. Most wizards just prefer to keep their own counsel.”
“I see,” she said, her back to me while she set the teapot down. When she turned around she was smiling. “I like your idea, it’s very dramatic and romantic, but you still need to explain one thing: why would a princess possibly be interested in a wizard?”
When I left a little later, I kissed her, tipping up her face with a finger under her chin. For a moment I felt the pressure of her forearms against the sides of my neck.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, stepping back. “Keep practicing your fire magic until then; you seem to be a very promising pupil!”
II
We arranged to go on Sunday to the stone quarry three miles from town. Theodora said she had always wanted to climb the steep limestone outcropping from which they were cutting the blocks for the cathedral, but she couldn’t go during the week while they were quarrying and said she felt uncomfortable going alone on Sundays.
“There are some rough men who camp there,” she said. “It’s far enough away that the municipal guard doesn’t pay attention to them.”
“But isn’t that a problem for the men working in the quarry?”
“I think a lot of them are the men working in the quarry.”
She was so good at some aspects of magic that I kept forgetting how big were the gaps in her knowledge. Without knowing how to fly, she was limited to running from danger. Climbing around the cathedral tower at night must have seemed less threatening than facing strange men in daylight.
First thing Sunday morning, however, I went to service in the cathedral. I sat with the servants of the cathedral priests, doing my best to look serious and not at all like a wizard. The cantor Norbert, however, standing in front of the choir, seemed to have no doubts about me.
Joachim led the service, and, watching him, I realized something that I should have realized much earlier. The reason he was always so busy was that he was already effectively the bishop. It should have been the bishop standing at the high altar on Sunday morning, the dean taking the noon service, but Joachim was doing both. In his care for the diocese, for the cathedral edifice, for the rest of the priests, for the seminary itself and all the young would-be priests, he must also be doing double duty.
The congregation came out of the cathedral into brilliant sunshine, rolled on a wave of organ music. Joachim caught up to me at the door. “We just have time for breakfast,” he said, “and then I have to ride out to a village five miles from here for a baptism. The baby was born too soon, and they’re afraid that bringing her into the city might kill her, but they want her baptized as soon as possible. I’ll have to hurry back, because after the noon service a castle chaplain is coming for his annual spiritual examination.”
After that I certainly couldn’t tell him I was going to spend the day with an attractive witch. “I hope it goes well,” I said gravely.
But as Theodora and I walked out the city gates an hour later, I was not thinking of the heavy responsibilities of cathedral priests. “I really should teach you how to fly,” I told her. “Then you’d be able to get to really high places to do your climbing.”
“Could you really? Could a witch learn to fly?”
By the time we had walked the three miles to the quarry, Theodora was able to lift herself about six inches off the ground, although she kept laughing, which broke her concentration.
The quarry itself was silent, and there seemed no one around but ourselves. The sun beat warm on our heads, and larks soared and sang around us. The actual quarry was a great gash in one side of the limestone outcropping, but the other side was untouched. “I’ll try climbing here,” said Theodora.