The Robin And The Kestrel

'Kinda like that red an' green dragon th' Mayor had conjured up fer the Midwinter Faire ten, fifteen years ago,' one grizzled oldster said in answer to Gwyna's questions. 'Yah, that's what it was like. Like that big ol' dragon. Ye could see through it, ye know, an' it didn' seem t' see anythin' _just smiled an' waved its wings, lazy-like.'

Contributions to the hospice-fund were reported to be disappointing, although attendance at the Healing Services remained high. But Gwyna took a little more heart; if people would only start to think instead of simply following along like so many sheep_

There was no sign of whether or not Brother Reymond had managed to free the Ghost; but then, there probably wouldn't be. The spirit had no interest in staying around, after all. In all probability, the only interest it had was in getting rid of the men who had kept it bound all this time; the Abbot and Padrik_the former was within reach, but how would the Ghost know how to reach the latter? If Robin had learned anything on Skull Hill that night, it was that the spirit bound there was a great believer in expediency as well as revenge.

By now, he's gone, she thought more than once, but with only a feeling of relief. For even if Padrik was sending poor victims outbound with spell-laden pendants, Reymond was waiting at the other end of the road to free them.

She decided that it was time that the two of them started attending the Healing Services again. Perhaps, if they studied what was going on, they could get some notion of how to disrupt one of the services. Hopefully without getting arrested afterwards_they wouldn't do any good stuck in a cell, after all.

Jonny agreed.

'I'm g-getting t-tired of sitting around h-here, d-doing n-nothing,' he told her. 'At l-least, if w-we g-go w- watch, w-we'll b-be t-trying.'

So they tucked all their belongings into their packs, wearing what wouldn't fit, and rolled up the blankets and tied them atop the whole. The Cathedral was not heated_it would have cost more than even the Church had to heat such a huge stone barn in the dead of winter. They would be glad of the extra clothing before the Service was over.

Gwyna put the lock picks where she could get at them quickly, just in case_in a pocket in the side of one of her boots. Jonny slipped the silk-wrapped pendant into his own pocket.

They set off for the Cathedral, joining a growing stream of people who trickled out of the inns and hostels along this street with their belongings on their backs. But they had the advantage of knowing the way, and knowing where to go when they got there; they beat most of the crowd to the Cathedral itself, and wormed their way very near the front, by working along the side wall.

Coincidentally enough, they found themselves in their old places, beneath the benevolent eye of Saint Hypatia. Gwyna took that for a good omen; Jonny had told her that Hypatia was the patron saint of knowledge and of truth-seekers.

Maybe she'd look kindly on their current task.

We can certainly use any blessings we can get, she recalled, uneasily, as she and Jonny took their places on either side of the saint's pedestal. Although they didn't plan on doing anything tonight, she was still nervous and distinctly jumpy. She kept looking out of the corner of her eye at their neighbors. Were there Patsonos who could recognize her nearby? Or Guards that would take exception to the way they acted?

There was a large, draped object on the platform near the altar; very bulky, and covered with a heavy dark cloth. Robin wondered what it was. Some new construction, perhaps? A new pulpit for Padrik to speak from? It was bigger than the old one; perhaps the old one wasn't grand enough anymore.

Finally, after every last bit of space had been filled by an eager observer, Padrik made his usual dramatic appearance from behind the altar, resplendent in his white robes, with an even bigger train of Priests following along behind than he'd had before.

And even though it was not appropriate for a Holy Service, the assembled crowd began cheering and applauding as soon as he appeared. They behaved more as if he was some sort of popular entertainer; perhaps, deep down inside, some of them did realize that was all he really was. A showman.

A fraud.

He smiled graciously, nodding his thanks_and long past the time when he should have tried to quell the outburst, he finally raised his hands for silence.

He got it; the cheers cut off immediately, leaving only the echoes of voices playing among the spires.

'My friends,' he said, his beautiful voice making a melody of his words. 'My children in God_I can see that there are no doubters among you this day!'

Which only proves he's not infallible, Robin thought wryly. And that he cant read minds, no matter what other magic he's using. Didn't find us, and we're doubters for sure.