Like Fire Through Bone (22 page)

“Really?” Theofilos was smiling now and watching Brother Stavros like he couldn’t decide what question to ask first.

“Brother Stavros!”

All four of them turned to see Brother Nicholas standing in the doorway of the garden, looking furious.

“The Abba told you to stay and pray in your cell until a decision was made.” Brother Nicholas strode across the garden toward them.

“I am sorry, Brother.” Brother Stavros bowed his head. “I felt I had to speak with them, though, and I was afraid our Abba’s thoughts would be too clouded by fear for my well-being.”

Brother Nicholas stopped in front of Brother Stavros, ignoring the rest of them completely, and reached out to grasp Brother Stavros’s face between his hands. “My son,” he said, tone going soft. “We all worry about your safety if the Bishop and High Church were to discover your existence, but our Abba is wise, and his faith is strong, and we must both have faith that he will make the choice that is best for us all, the one which will put us on the righteous path that God has chosen. Whatever is to happen beyond that, we will have strength in him.”

Vasilios felt slightly as if he was prying into a private moment, and he looked away from them to watch Markos instead.

“I’m sorry, Brother,” Brother Stavros said, voice barely above a whisper. “I will try to have more faith.”

To Vasilios’s surprise, Brother Nicholas laughed. “Oh my son, lack of faith has never been your failing, but you must have patience.” He let go of Brother Stavros and turned to the three of them. “Abba Gregory will speak with you now, and you might as well come too, Brother Stavros.”

Brother Nicholas led the way out of the garden and back into the church, then back up to Abba Gregory’s study.

“Brother Stavros.” Abba Gregory stood when they all entered the room.

“He felt moved to speak with our guests,” Brother Nicholas explained, and Brother Stavros bowed his head.

Abba Gregory sat back behind his desk, closing his eyes briefly.

“I am sorry, Abba,” Brother Stavros said, and Abba Gregory shook his head.

“What is done is done, my son.” He looked back to the three of them. “We might as well discuss this, since you are now aware of Brother Stavros’s presence.”

“He says he is the one we have come searching for,” Markos said, and Abba Gregory nodded.

“I believe this also to be true. Nevertheless,” Abba Gregory glanced back over at Brother Stavros before looking back at Markos, “the Church has turned a blind eye until now to our small indiscretions and difference on points of theology. This, however, the Church will not overlook, and there is another issue to consider.”

“Oh?” Markos frowned, confused, and Abba Gregory shook his head.

“I am sure you are aware of the Church’s formal stance regarding Amma Aritê and those like her?”

Vasilios turned to Markos, who shook his head, seeming tired. “Yes, I am aware. The Bishop informed me himself.”

“Our association with her would weaken our already precarious position,” Abba Gregory said and then raised a hand as Brother Stavros, Brother Nicholas, and Vasilios all opened their mouths to speak. “That being as it may, I cannot, as a servant of God, allow church politics to stand in the way of what I am called to do.” Abba Gregory shook his head. “The Lord built the Church, but men are weak, especially in the face of power and wealth, and it will not be the first time that we of this order have gone against the ruling of the Bishop, God help and protect us.”

“Abba,” Brother Stavros said, “does this mean you are going to let me go?”

Abba Gregory turned to look at him, his expression grave. “I believe that your visions are signs, my son, and come from the hand of God, so I will give you my blessing to do this work that you have been chosen for. But know that the final decision in this matter must be made in your own heart. You, out of all of us, have striven to live a life of obedience to the Church and its teaching. To go down this path may possibly lead you to stand opposed to the will of our Bishop.”

Brother Stavros stared at him but then bowed his head. “I understand, and it is something that has weighed heavily upon my mind and heart these past days, but I am clear now.”

He turned back in a graceful inhuman movement that had Vasilios’s nerves on edge again.

“I will come with you,” he said, “and then submit myself to whatever the Bishop feels is right, but not until after we have cast out the enemy of Michael.”

“Very well,” Markos said, “and thank you. We will forever be indebted to you and to this order, if this works.” He looked Brother Stavros up and down. “To be frank, though, I’m not sure how we are going to get you back into the capital without causing widespread panic.”

Brother Stavros bowed his head again and bit his lip.

“We’ll think of something,” Markos assured him, reaching out to clasp Brother Stavros’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” Brother Stavros turned away from them. “I’m sorry. I need to be alone for a little while to pray.” He inclined his head to the three of them and then to Brother Nicholas and Abba Gregory. “Abba, excuse me.”

“Go in peace, my son,” Abba Gregory told him, and Brother Stavros turned and pushed open the door to the study.

“I would love to speak for a little while with you, Abba,” Theofilos said, stepping forward.

“Theofilos Yalim.” Abba Gregory looked over at him. “I have read some of your work, although I will admit none of your recent writings have found their way here. I would be glad to speak with you for a little while.” He looked over at Brother Nicholas. “Perhaps you can ask Brother Mathew if we could not have some tea.”

“Of course.” Brother Nicholas nodded and then also headed for the door.

“And we will leave you two to talk.” Markos reached for Vasilios’s arm. “And once more, Abba, thank you. The Empire is in your debt.” With one last bow, he guided Vasilios out the door and down the hall. “Let Theofilos and the Abba talk about theology for a while. You and I need to figure out how to get Brother Stavros out of here and into the capital without anyone noticing his not-normal appearance.”

“Well,” Vasilios walked beside Markos as they descended the stairs and headed out of the church, “What about a lectica? We could cover him up, and carry him into the capital that way.”

“That would work I think.” Markos tilted his head, considering. “Now we just have to find a lectica. I could send someone back to the city for one, but it’s a good day and a half to two days ride, depending on how rested the horse is, and I don’t want to set us back that much.”

“Maybe they have one here,” Vasilios said, although he doubted it.

“Well, we should come up with another plan, in case we can’t get a lectica.” Markos led the way back through the monastery toward the door in the wall.

“Is there any way of getting into the capital that is not through one of the main gates?” Vasilios asked.

“Of course there is,” Markos said. “There are passageways used by military scouts or if the Emperor needs to leave the city without anyone knowing of it.”

“Well, let us make use of one of those,” Vasilios said. “And have someone meet us with a lectica, so Brother Stavros can travel through the streets undetected.”

Markos nodded, and pushed open the door.

“Sir.” Patros moved toward them as they made their way back over to the little group by the horses.

“We have secured the help of the one we came here for,” Markos told them. “But be aware Brother Stavros is not like anyone I have ever met, and I would assume any of you have either.”

“How so?” Lucius was frowning.

Vasilios and Markos exchanged a look. “He isn’t human, at least not completely. Instead, his body is half that of a man, half that of a serpent.”

Lucius, Patros, Aritê, and Arsaces all stared at him.

“Sir, is this some kind of a joke?” Patros asked. “I don’t understand.”

“Are you sure this is all right, General?” Lucius asked, looking grim. “The Church teaches us evil can come in many forms, even disguised as aid.”

“And it’s not good luck to associate with the Old Ones,” Arsaces said, which made Vasilios turn toward him.

It had been a long time since he had heard the faith of his homeland put so plainly. When the Empire had conquered his people, they had insisted on the adoption of the Church as the only allowable faith. Even though he no longer put so high a store on the luck of the Gods, it still made a strange longing for the sea and the places of his childhood rise up inside him.

“I know you have your doubts,” Markos said, “and quite frankly, I have my own, but I’ve made my decision, and Brother Stavros will travel with us back to the capital.”

“I would like to meet him,” Aritê said, speaking for the first time since their return to camp.

“Good, because you are going to, shortly. Patros, I need to speak with you about the route we should take back to the city.”

Patros stepped forward, and Vasilios went over to sit beside Aritê.

“I was glad to see you, when you came to accompany us here,” she told him.

“I know you and Markos think that I’m an important part of this.” He bowed his head, playing with the bottom edge of his scarf with his fingers.

“I do, that is true,” Aritê said. “But more than that, your presence meant that for you, things had changed, and I am glad for that.” She reached out and touched his cheek with her wrist. “God did not make us to live in fear and misery.”

He looked away from her then, not sure what to say, and Aritê dropped her arm to her lap again.

“When this is over, you will go back to your house in the desert?”

“Yes, of course.” She looked over at him again. “That is where God wishes for me to be, so that is where I will be.”

“Do you ever wish you lived in a community like this?” He nodded at the monastery that loomed to their right.

“Sometimes.” Aritê seemed to consider. “But God did not lead me to a community such as this, and has not instructed me to grow one, so either the time is not right, or that is not where I was meant to be.”

Vasilios thought he would never be able to have faith so assured as hers seemed to be, but in that moment he was glad she did.

“We should go back and see if Theofilos is done with his little chat with the Abba,” Markos said, walking over to where Aritê and Vasilios sat.

“I will be waiting to meet this Brother Stavros,” Aritê said, standing as Vasilios stood and made his way to follow Markos back toward the monastery. “Such as him, I have only heard of in legend, and then not since I was a girl. I believed it to be merely fable.”

“Oh trust me, he is very real,” Markos said and turned back toward the monastery wall. Vasilios followed him.

They made their way back through the monastery where Theofilos waited for them with Brother Stavros, who carried a small book in one hand and a length of prayer beads.

“We may leave now, General,” Brother Stavros said when they were close enough to hear.

“Don’t you want to pack?” Markos asked.

Brother Stavros looked down at himself and then up at Markos. “I have my habit, my book of Scripture, and my prayer beads. This is all I own.”

“All right, then.” Markos started to turn but was interrupted when the church doors opened and Abba Gregory came out.

“Go safely, my son,” he said, and embraced Brother Stavros. “And by the grace of the Lord, return to us soon.”

“Thank you, Abba.” Brother Stavros embraced him back. “Say a prayer for us before we go?” Markos looked like he was going to protest but then knelt, as did Vasilios and Theofilos while Brother Stavros bent gracefully at the waist, lowering himself on his coils.

Abba Gregory closed his eyes and held his hands out above their heads and prayed. When Abba Gregory was done, the four of them rose and headed back toward the wall once more.

“Did you have a nice talk with the Abba?” Vasilios asked, falling into stride beside Theofilos.

“Oh yes,” Theofilos said. “A very interesting man, and a very interesting order. Their beliefs are indeed unique and not completely in line with Church doctrine.” Theofilos smiled a knowing smile and shook his head. “But then, neither are mine. It was an interesting talk. I always enjoy discussing things with people who are well-informed and passionate.”

A little ahead of them, Markos pulled open the door and all four of them filed out.

The horses whinnied and stamped, shying away from them as they drew close to where the others were camped. Lucius and Arsaces grabbed for the horses’ reins, trying to calm them.

“It’s me.” Brother Stavros’s voice was low. “I scare them.”

“Brother Stavros.” Aritê walked toward them completely ignoring the commotion with the horses. “I have wanted to meet you.”

Brother Stavros hesitated but then bowed. “Amma.”

“Just Aritê.”

“It is an honor.”

“The honor is mine,” she said, bowing low, “for I am told you will help me cast out the demon Gyllou, once and for all.”

“I will try,” Brother Stavros said.

“We need to get going,” Markos cut in. “We don’t know when our enemy will be on the move again, so the sooner we get back to the city and start figuring out how to cast it out, the better.”

“Yes, General.” Theofilos smiled at him before heading over to where the soldiers stood.

“I will travel a fair distance from you so as not to frighten the horses,” Brother Stavros said, turning to Markos.

“Are you sure you will be able to keep up?” Markos asked, looking dubious, and Brother Stavros smiled.

“Trust me, I can keep up with you, even on horseback.”

“All right.” Markos headed toward the horses as well. “Let’s move out.”

T
HE
trip back to the city felt both shorter and longer to Vasilios. They traveled in roughly the same formation they had on the way there, with Brother Stavros traveling far enough from them not to frighten the horses. Most of the trip, Vasilios couldn’t see Brother Stavros. Although, he would sometimes be able to make out the tracks his massive serpent body left in the soft earth when Vasilios passed near where Brother Stavros had already been.