A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 7 (2 page)

But this relationship, just like the one between Westminster Abbey and St. George’s Cathedral, was now—both practically and on paper—turned on its head, and the ability to give commands rested in her hands now.

Despite her vast authority, the archbishop was now prancing along a morning street without any bodyguards to speak of.

The two of them were currently headed toward St. George’s Cathedral. Laura was also the one who had instructed him in advance to come to the cathedral at this time, so she should have been waiting there…

“I, too, do have a location to which I must return home each day. I could never remain within the confines of such an antiquated cathedral for my whole life.” Laura proceeded down the road, her footsteps not making a sound. “Let us talk whilst we walk, shall we? Lest we use our time poorly.”

Most of the people passing by were company workers. After all, they were close to Waterloo Station, the largest in London. A nun and a priest wouldn’t have been an unusual sight here. It was no Rome, but London still had as many churches as it did parks.

“Well, I suppose I don’t mind. But if this was something you needed to call me out to the cathedral for, then you don’t want to be overheard telling it to me, do you?”

“Pray tell, does it bother you? How small a man you are. Can you not possibly find any enjoyment in our constitutional? Priests listen to the confessions of the women as though they are playboys, after all. Haven’t you even a modicum of desire for adventure?”

“…” Stiyl made a slightly displeased face, then said, “May I ask you a question?”

“Please, stay your formal language. What would you have of me?”

“Why are you talking like a complete idiot?”

“…?” The archbishop of English Puritanism reacted much like someone had just pointed out she’d buttoned up her shirt wrong—at first she was dumbfounded, then she froze in place, and finally her face went bright red.

“Huh? I— What? Do I sound odd to your ears? Verily, should I not
be conversing in the Japanese language in the manner with which I am even now speaking?!”

“Umm, excuse me, but I can barely even understand what you’re saying. Even your archaic Japanese seems messed up.”

The people walking down the street in suits wouldn’t have understood Japanese, but for some reason, the bustle around them had turned into whispering—and it felt like it was focused on Laura.

“A-argh…I did verily examine a great many things of literature, television, and all the rest…I even had a real-life Japanese person check my work, too…”

Stiyl sighed. “Who is this real-life Japanese person exactly?”

“A-a gentleman named Motoharu Tsuchimikado…”

“…He would dress his stepsister up in a maid outfit and then faint out of happiness. He’s dangerous. Please don’t consider him a standard Japanese person. Asia’s culture isn’t that strange.”

“You have a point. I suppose then that I must mend my mistaken way of speaking lest I— Egads!” Laura’s shout caused a flock of pigeons resting on the road to all fly up into the air.

“What’s the matter?”

“It has become part of me! I’m never going to fix it
now
!”

“…Please don’t tell me you spoke so idiotically during your conference with the Academy City representative.”

Laura’s shoulders gave a jolt. “N-no, it is nothing I must fret over. It’s fine, everything is fine, entirely fine,” she said, but her voice was trembling, there was an odd droplet of sweat dripping down her cheek, and her eyes were wandering.

Stiyl breathed a sigh that smelled of tobacco. “Anyway, we can talk about that once we arrive at the cathedral.”

The two of them turned a corner, on which was situated a Japanese restaurant that Kaori Kanzaki frequented in secret, and continued.

“N-no! I have no need to feel such mortification. I declare that I have done nothing uncouth from the first.”

“Give this nonsense a rest and get down to business, please. Oh,
and if you’re not confident in your Japanese, then can’t you just switch to English?”

“N-nonsense…! Th-this has nothing to do with my not possessing confidence. Yes, that’s right! It is simply that I am not well on this particular day,” claimed Laura, acting extremely suspiciously. “As for work…Oh, but first—”

She took two pieces of paper that looked like sticky notes and a black Magic Marker out from the breast of her habit. Stiyl, who was familiar with using cards with runes on them, immediately understood what she would use them for.

“Squeak-squeak—
”

While saying aloud the sound effect for the marker’s scribbling, Laura began to draw some sort of pattern on the paper with the black marker. It was probably a talisman or circle. When the archbishop was in front of a large group of people for ceremonies and the like, she would act so solemn and majestic you would doubt she was even human—but right now she looked for all the world like a normal girl doodling in her notebook during class. He personally wished she would act that solemnly all the time.

Stiyl, a cigarette in his mouth, frowned a bit. He didn’t like the sound this marker made very much.

“Squeak-squeak-squeaksqueak-squeak-squeak-squeaksqueak-squeak-squeak-squeaksqueak-squeak-squeak-squeaksqueak-squeak-squeak-squeaksqueak-squeak-squeak-squeaksqueak-squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak-squeaksqueak-squeaksqueak-squeak-squeak-squeaksqueak-squeak-squeak—
”

“…Excuse me for asking, but what is it you’re doing?” asked Stiyl, gritting his teeth and shaking all over. Veins were popping out of his temples, but he’d just have to endure that right now.

“Think of this as a token of my consideration. Here!” Finished drawing the same pattern on both pieces of paper, Laura pushed one of them into Stiyl’s hands.

“Ahem! I ask of you—are you able to hear this sound?”

Stiyl heard what seemed like a voice speaking directly to his mind.
He glanced at her face to make sure, but as he thought, her small mouth wasn’t moving. “A communication talisman?”

“It is by doing this that we may speak our minds with nary the need to converse aloud.”

Hmm
. Stiyl looked down at the card in his hand. She seemed to have gone out of her way to show consideration after his advice that others hearing them would be bad.

“Why does your mental voice sound as moronic as your real one?”

“What did you say? W-wait, Stiyl! I assert that I am speaking English in this moment!”

She fidgeted wildly yet silently, startling a cat curled up in front of a still-closed café. Stiyl sighed. Why couldn’t she keep her cool now, despite all the gravitas she displayed as archbishop?

“Then it must be mistranslating you during the communication and conversion processes. How exhausting. I can understand you just fine, though, so let’s proceed.”

“W-we
…
Ahem! Then let us begin.”
Laura had been about to say something, but she swallowed it back down and changed the topic to something work-related.
“Stiyl, have you perchance heard the name
Book of the Law
?”

“The name of the grimoire? If I recall correctly, it was penned by Edward Alexander.”

Edward Alexander—also known as Crowley. He was at once called the greatest sorcerer of the twentieth century and the
worst
sorcerer of the twentieth century. He was a legendary figure, one whose aberrant, extremist, abnormal words and actions got him deported from many countries on many occasions, one who fueled the creative passions of many an artist…and one who made an enemy out of every single sorcerer in the world. Historical records stated that he died on December 1, 1947. He was such an utterly difficult and chaotic enemy that one could rightly say that his death loosened strings of tension across the planet.

Even after the great sorcerer’s death, there was no shortage of those calling themselves his students or legitimate heirs. Even today, there was an investigation agency dedicated to countering Crowley’s own brand of artificial magicks. And, as is usually the case with
people of such legendary status, Stiyl had also heard rumors that the man was still alive.

“What about it? The original copy is in the Roman Orthodox Church’s Vatican Library right now, isn’t it?”

He had traveled across the world as bodyguard of the Index girl while they were cramming the 103,000 grimoires into her mind. It was an easy task to recall the owners and locations of a hundred or so of the most famous ones.

“Yes, well
…
Crowley was active in Sicily from 1920 to 1923, meaning the
Book of the Law
was lost during that interval of time.”
Laura continued, as if she were flipping through a history textbook.
“Now, Stiyl, mayhaps you know of the
Book of the Law
’s unique characteristics?”

“…”

Unique characteristics.

“If I’m correct, and disregarding the reliability of Crowley actually having written it, there are several academic theories on the matter. One goes that the
Book of the Law
contains angelic techniques unusable by man that were revealed to him by Aiwass, the guardian angel he summoned. Another says that as soon as you open the book, it proclaims the end of the era of Crossism and the coming of an entirely new age
…
Sure, it’s impossible that he heard all that from angels—they have no will of their own—but the second one is interesting. And—”

Among the English Puritan Church’s speculations were many explanations that said the grimoire described methods by which to use the vastly powerful sorcery it boasted.

But everyone who heard all this came to one crucial question.

Why did it stop at mere speculation?

The Index of Prohibited Books should have had knowledge regarding the
Book of the Law
.

“—nobody can decipher it, right? Grimoires are by nature written in various codes, but I hear this one is another story entirely. The Index gave up on deciphering it as well, and even Sherry Cromwell, the leading expert in code-breaking, gave it up as hopeless.”

Yes—nobody could read the
Book of the Law
. By the Index’s explanation, it was no longer able to be decoded using present-day linguistic approaches. Because of that, the passages of the
Book of the Law
were stuck in her head still in encoded form.

Laura smiled, pleased.
“If I were to say that someone who is able to read the
Book of the Law
has appeared, what would you do?”

“…What?”
Stiyl looked at her again. She didn’t look like she was joking.

“She is a nun of the Roman Orthodox Church, and her name is Orsola Aquinas. It would seem as though she only knows the method to decipher it—she has not laid eyes upon the book itself.”

“How, then?”

“This Orsola was apparently hunting for the method of decoding it using but a portion of its manuscript to serve as a reference. She had only the table of contents and a few pages from the initial section at her disposal.”

The original copy of the
Book of the Law
was under such strict watch that even she wouldn’t easily have been able to view it. And since she wasn’t the Index of Forbidden Books, even gaining access to the original copy without proper care would be dangerous.

“The Roman Orthodox Church
…
is lacking cards to play in our overarching power struggle at the moment. Are they attempting to use the
Book of the Law
in a plot to recover from that setback? Do they not see it as anything more than the blueprints for a new weapon
…
?”

The Roman Orthodox Church was said to be the largest of the religious factions of Crossism, but there were reports that their strength had waned. Their greatest power, the Gregorian Choir, made up of more than three thousand people, had been destroyed by a certain alchemist. Since that was the case, Stiyl didn’t doubt that they’d jump at the opportunity to replenish their lost strength by using the knowledge in the
Book of the Law
to plan and create a new spell to replace the Gregorian Choir and protect their seat at the top.