The Witch, the Cathedral

place, but they had always had an unreal quality to them. On the other hand, the dragons that also appeared in children’s stories were certainly real.

“Well,” said the foreman, “it’s time we were back at work.”

I excused myself and found a path out of the construction site, then turned to look back at the half-finished tower. The small figures of workmen were already clustered along the scaffolding, and several were on the treadmill, winching up a load of stones.

An inn opened onto the street in front of me. Feeling a strong need for lunch after my experiences, I ducked my head and went inside. I wondered if the mothers in the northern valley worried about their children climbing too high or going too close to precipices, or whether they encouraged them in such explorations.

After a plate of sausages and a mug of beer, the terrors of clinging to the vertical side of a tower a hundred and fifty feet up had receded nicely. Since Joachim had said he would be busy, I went to see what diversion the little city of Caelrhon offered.

I had come here relatively frequently over the years. It was the closest city to the royal castle of Yurt, even though located in the adjacent kingdom, and the royal family of Yurt owned a small castle here. They came for fairs and carnivals and occasionally for services in the cathedral-the late king had married his queen here, over twenty years ago.

After spending the last three months in the great City by the sea, however, I found the streets and shop windows here held little to interest me. After wandering around for a quarter hour, I decided to try again to talk to the Romney children. I went out through the open gates toward where they had been camped that morning.

But the brightly painted caravans were gone. Less than four hours earlier, dozens of men, women, and children had been here. Now there was only a broad patch of trampled grass and the ashes from their dead fires. I walked around the abandoned campsite for several minutes without finding anything of interest other than a single gold earring, small enough to be a child’s, which I slipped into my pocket.

I hesitated, wondering if I should follow the Romneys. They couldn’t have been on the road for long, and their shaggy horses would not be able to pull loaded caravans very rapidly. Flying, I could quickly search all the roads leading out of the city.

But was there any reason to find them? They had, according to Joachim, been camped outside the city for six weeks, which I thought was fairly long for them. It must be simple coincidence that their decision to move on came the same day as my arrival.

Playing with the earring in my pocket, I wondered if returning it to its owner was excuse enough to catch up to the Romneys and deciding that it was not. If their departure was indeed coincidence, then they would have nothing to tell me that I needed to know. But if they had moved off as a result of my appearance that morning, fearing that I would further question the children about the person they had seen working powerful magic, then even if I caught up to them they would deny any knowledge of anything.

I turned to go back through the city gates. If whoever had been casting magic spells on the new tower, fairy or wizard, was with the Romneys, then maybe I had scared him off and Joachim’s problems were over. But I didn’t believe in fairies and had been, at least a few hours ago, fairly sure that no one in the Romney encampment knew magic.

IV

Late afternoon found me in the cathedral listening to the organ.

From the main doors I had followed the Tree of Life worked in mosaic tiles the length of the nave. I started with the tree’s roots and walked across branches and leaves among which appeared first fish, then insects, serpents, toads, rabbits, and deer. Now I leaned against a pillar at the transept, my feet among men and women, old and young, lords and peasants, sinners and saints.

Even before coming through the doors I had heard the organ. From outside, its notes competed awkwardly with the light-hearted songs the workmen were singing as they closed down for the night, but inside the organ swept all other sounds away. The sun’s horizontal rays poured through the stained glass, lighting up a church interior that had seemed dim at midday. The row of organ pipes, ranging in size from scarcely bigger than my finger to the diameter of a young tree, glowed like red gold. A high melody rose in a hymn of praise while great chords rolled below. The pillar against which I leaned, the stones under my feet, and the very air around me vibrated with the bass.

The organist finished with a flourish. As the thunder of music died away, I became aware of Joachim beside me. I had no idea how long he had been there. “It would make someone believe in God even if he didn’t already,” I commented.

He gave me a quick, sideways look. “That is the idea. Come to dinner, and we’ll talk.”

We went out a small side door and around to the back of the cathedral. Here on a quiet cobbled street, at the opposite end of the church from the new construction, the cathedral priests had their houses. As we walked down the street a priest emerged from a covered porch to stare at us. “Father Joachim,” he said in greeting, dipping his head to the dean, but me he glared at as though I had the word WIZARD (or even DEMON) emblazoned on my forehead.

“Father Norbert,” Joachim replied with a nod. When we were past he said in my ear, “Don’t mind him. He’s never had much use for wizards.”

The dean’s house was at the far end. The carved wooden porch and the cathedral looming over the street made the entrance very dark, but as we stepped inside we were greeted by light. Many-paned mullion windows on the far side of the house looked out over a hillside that sloped sharply down toward the river and the tiled roofs of the artisans’ quarter of the city.

A servant in black livery met us. “We’ll just wash up, and then we’ll eat right away,” Joachim told him. “Once we are served, you can leave us.” The servant nodded silently and disappeared.

A senior officer of a cathedral, I thought as I dried my hands, lived fairly well. But good living had not filled out Joachim, and his face was as gaunt as ever. I wondered briefly if I should suspect him of being behind some veiled attack on organized magic-which Brother Norbert appeared ready to join-but I dismissed this. I had known Joachim too long, and, besides, he had asked for my help.

The servant lit the white candles on the table, served us from a large platter, and withdrew, still without a word. As we ate the sky outside the window became gradually dim, and the candle flames seemed to grow brighter and brighter, their light reflected from the polished surface of the woodwork.

“I climbed up the new tower after I talked to you,” I said once I had finished a plateful of chicken. “How did you find those construction workers? It’s terrifying being up on the scaffolding, yet they seem totally fearless. Maybe their long fingers and toes allow them to cling to a surface like tree frogs.”

“I did not hire them myself. Even though I am the elected head of the cathedral chapter, the provost and the chancellor are in charge of the cathedral edifice itself and of raising money to pay for its upkeep. There had already been discussion for years before I arrived about building a new cathedral. The provost had heard good things about this construction crew from the priests of another church on which they had worked.”

“They also aren’t very concerned about the strange lights at night,” I continued. “They come from somewhere far up north, and they seem to consider magical occurrences fairly ordinary. After all, I gather that if one went only a little further than their valley one would reach the land of dragons. And up there it’s all wild magic, not organized and channeled as in the western kingdoms.”

“My colleagues do not like any kind of magic, wild or organized,” said Joachim, a glint in his eye. He paused to refill my wine glass. “I’m sorry if I seemed abrupt earlier. I have a lot on my mind.” Tact had never been his strong point; although he had become no more tactful over the years, at least he worried about it more. “When I told the bishop today I had sent for you, he was very unhappy about bringing a wizard into the affairs of the Church.”

“You can tell him that the wizards at the school weren’t any happier about it,” I said cheerfully.

This seemed to surprise him, but he made no comment. Instead he asked, “And could you tell if the lights at night and the material being moved around on the tower were due to a magic spell?”