He cast Sir Ander an expressive glance, reminding him about their precious cargo, the books of Saint Dennis, hidden in the secret compartment. Sir Ander nodded in understanding. He lingered to speak a few words to Stephano, expressing his confidence in Brother Barnaby and his hope that the young woman would fully recover, then returned to the yacht, where he found Brother Paul saying his farewell.
“I pleaded with Brother Paul to remain here,” said Brother Barnaby. “But he insists on returning to his own dwelling.”
“I need to be alone with my God,” said Brother Paul.
The monk had his cowl drawn over his head, his face hidden in the shadows. Sir Ander recalled the monk saying he suffered from headaches without his tinted glasses and those had been lost in the fight with the demons. Sir Ander also recalled that Brother Paul was a hermit, who had chosen to live in this desolate place by himself. Still, he couldn’t be allowed to depart. He had seen too much.
“I think you should stay here, Brother,” Sir Ander said gently. “Father Jacob will want to speak with you again.”
The hooded head turned toward him. Brother Paul’s pale face was a glimmer of white in the shadows.
“Then I will remain, of course,” he said with ready compliance.
Sir Ander told Brother Barnaby he was needed at the Trundler houseboat. Barnaby went to fetch his medicines. Master Albert was busy working on the yacht, attempting to make it ready for towing. Sir Ander went inside the yacht to keep an eye on their “guest.” He found Brother Paul on his knees, praying.
Sir Ander sat down, lowered his aching head into his hands, and wondered if a dram of brandy would help or make the pain worse. He was tired enough already. The brandy would only put him to sleep and he had to stay awake to keep an eye on Brother Paul. Feeling fatigue start to overwhelm him, Sir Ander took out pen and paper and occupied himself in writing a letter.
Countess Cecile de Marjolaine,
My Dearest Friend,
I write to tell you that I have finally had the very great pleasure of meeting your son…
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Trundlers’ homeland was sunk when the seven kingdoms defeated the notorious Glasearrach Pirates in the War of the Pirate King. The Trundlers lived in a city on the opposite side of the island, and according to history, sided with and supported the pirates. The island had a terrible reputation as being a haven for murderers and worse. Some say Aertheum himself walked the hills and valleys of that fell place. The Church teaches that God’s hand dragged the island and all her people into the Breath. That was when the Trundlers who survived turned their back on Him.
“The History of the Trundlers” by Professor Angus McFarland
STEPHANO INDICATED HE WOULD ESCORT Father Jacob and Brother Barnaby to the Cloud Hopper. Stephano was uncomfortable in the presence of this black-robed priest with the intense, glittering eyes. Stephano believed in God, but not in his representatives here below. The Church had betrayed his father, and Stephano had never set foot in a house of worship since. He distrusted priests and didn’t like having to rely on them, especially a priest of the mysterious and powerful Arcanum and one with a Freyan accent no less.
But I would make a pact with the grand bishop himself if he could help Gythe, Stephano thought as they were waiting outside the yacht for Brother Barnaby to fetch his medicines.
“What is wrong with the young woman, sir?” Father Jacob asked.
“I don’t know, Father,” Stephano replied. “She has no visible wounds, yet when the demons were hurling that green fire at the boat, she was in terrible pain. Now she lies in a deep sleep from which we cannot wake her.”
“I trust we can help her, sir,” said Father Jacob. “Is this young woman by any chance a crafter?”
“My friend says Gythe is more than a mere crafter, Father. Rigo termed her a ‘savant.’ ”
“I myself am a savant,” said Father Jacob. “The green fire affected me much the same way. As you see, I am a little weak in the knees, but otherwise recovered. Ah, here is Brother Barnaby.”
Stephano said he was sorry disturbing the monk, who must be in pain from his own wounds. Brother Barnaby assured him that he was feeling much better and he was pleased to think he might be able to help. The three began the long walk down the hill toward the docks.
Stephano glanced sidelong at his two companions. He had already formed a favorable opinion of the monk, Brother Barnaby, though he considered the young man sadly naive, one of those God-smitten individuals who see a halo around the head of every living being. Still, there was no harm in this gentle monk and a great deal of good.
The young monk’s brown robes were torn and stained with blood. Stephano winced at the sight of the lash marks on the slender back. Brother Barnaby walked swiftly, his weariness and pain apparently forgotten in his concern for a fellow being, for he asked Stephano questions about Gythe as they walked and nodded his head in thoughtful concern. Looking at the dark-complected face, Stephano saw openness, honesty, caring, and compassion.
At one point, when Stephano was talking about Gythe singing, Father Jacob interrupted. “You say she doesn’t speak, but she does sing.”
“She sang the magic that protected our boat,” said Stephano, remembering that night on the Cloud Hopper when the magic danced and blazed before his eyes.
“Interesting,” said Father Jacob. “I was affected by the demonic green fire in a similar manner. Yet I am up and moving about, much to the dismay of Brother Barnaby.”
“You should be in bed,” said the monk firmly.
Father Jacob merely smiled and continued, “Yet your friend still suffers.”
“She was terrified by the demons,” said Stephano. He hesitated. In her worry for her sister, Miri had relieved Stephano of his oath to keep their secret. He felt uncomfortable talking about it, however. “This is not the first time she has encountered these fiends.”
“It isn’t?” Father Jacob asked in surprise.
“When she and her sister were young girls, their houseboat came under some sort of mysterious attack. Both their parents were brutally murdered. Gythe and Miri had been staying with their uncle. Gythe jumped on board before anyone could stop her, and she saw what was left of the bodies. We think she also saw the attackers.”
“She saw demons…” said Father Jacob.
“She seemed to recognize them when they attacked the Cloud Hopper,” said Stephano. “She suddenly became a little child again. Laughing and singing to herself. Nursery rhymes…”
“The sisters’ surname name wouldn’t be McPike, would it?” Father Jacob asked.
Stephano stopped dead and turned to stare at him. “Gythe and Miri McPike. How did you know that, Father? Do you know them? How?”
But the priest did not answer. He walked with his head bowed, his hands clasped behind his back, his black cassock flapping about his heels. Stephano asked again, this time with some impatience. Father Jacob still did not reply.
“Do not be offended, Captain,” said Brother Barnaby. “He is not deliberately ignoring you. He simply doesn’t hear you. When he is like this, he wouldn’t hear a cannon if it went off beside him. As to how he knows your friends, Father Jacob has been making a study of these strange attacks on the Trundlers.”
“So there have been more such vicious, brutal murders, Brother,” Stephano said.
“I fear so, sir,” said Brother Barnaby. He added with a frown, his usually mild voice hardening. “No one in power except Father Jacob pays attention because the victims are Trundlers.”
Stephano was more impressed with both the monk and the priest. “I hope you can help Gythe, Brother. I feel responsible for what happened to her. She and the others came on this accursed journey because of me.”
“You take a great deal of responsibility upon yourself, Captain.”
“You think God brought me here?” Stephano asked, half serious, half in jest.
“Sometimes we do not arrive at the place where we want to go, but where God needs us to be,” Brother Barnaby said with serene faith and confidence.
