The Harrowing of Gwynedd (42 page)

Oddly enough, the exercise in forbearance seemed to soothe his aching head, so that, by the time court recessed for a midday repast, only a nagging vestige remained—and that all but disappeared when he had eaten. The afternoon saw Javan the model of a dutiful and biddable prince, even Regent Murdoch smiling and agreeable about Javan's performance, when they adjourned at the end of the day.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-
ONE

Foursquare shall it be being doubled
.

—Exodus 28:16

Prince Javan's performance did not stop with the court of Gwynedd, though his greatest performances were still to come and would mostly go unappreciated by any but his Deryni allies. He was as good as his word, when it came to producing the manuscripts Evaine asked for, and laid three precious scrolls in the Portal chamber after Mass the very next day. Two more followed, a day later.

The documents were not precisely what Evaine had hoped for, but piecing together information from them and from the other sources already at her disposal put Evaine onto another line of speculation that had not occurred to her before. By the night of Good Friday, she was ready to share her findings with Joram and Queron. She gathered them in the
keeill
, after everyone in sanctuary had retired for the night, and warded the
keeill
doors against intrusion before taking them to crouch around the white-gleaming slab of the sunken altar's mensa. They watched expectantly as she undid the ties of a soft leather pouch and upended its contents onto her hand.

“This new material seems to deal with advanced warding techniques,” she told them, laying out the four white and four black cubes that made a set of Wards Major. “A lot of it was veiled in allegory, as these things so often are, but I think I've isolated at least one new configuration. Now, most Deryni with any training at all know the basic spell for constructing Wards Major.”

She had been moving the four white cubes into a solid square in the center, and now set the four black ones at the diagonals. “This is the starting point for it—and for half a dozen other configurations of varying complexity, the most powerful of which, as we know, can raise this altar slab to reveal the black and white cube altar that supports it.”

“What we've usually called the Pillars of the Temple,” Joram said.

“That's right.” Without bothering to name the cubes or activate them magically, she placed her first and second fingers on the first white cube and the black one at its diagonal and switched them, then did the same with the two diagonally opposite, so that the central square ended up checkered black and white, with cubes of opposite colors at the four corners.

But when she would have gone on to the next step, Queron suddenly seized her wrist.

“Wait! Don't do that yet!”

“Why? What's wrong?”

“Just wait!”

“Queron, the cubes aren't even activated,” Joram murmured, stealing a startled glance at Evaine, whose wrist Queron still held. “Nothing's going to happen.”

“I know that.”

Queron's voice was strained, intense, forbidding further conversation, and both Joram and Evaine fell silent, only watching as the Healer-priest continued to stare at the cubes. When, after a few more seconds, he softly exhaled and released Evaine's wrist, he looked a little sheepish, and brushed a hand self-consciously across his eyes.

“I'm sorry. I certainly hadn't expected
that
memory to surface.”

“Can you tell us about it?” Evaine asked quietly.

“I—that's what I'm not sure about.” He swallowed uncomfortably. “Good God, I never really thought I'd be put into a situation where I'd seriously consider violating my vows.”

Joram cocked his head curiously. “Your priestly vows or the seal of the confessional?” he asked.

“Not exactly either.” Queron drew a deep breath and exhaled it as fully as he could, as if steeling himself for something either unpleasant or dangerous. “This—ah—has to do with that—ah—other tradition besides Gabrilite, that we talked about, some time ago. You'll remember that I mentioned in passing that I hoped I wouldn't have to make a choice.”

“You don't have to tell us,” Evaine said.

“No, I think I do,” Queron said. “That's just the point. Something that never quite made sense before, that was part of that earlier tradition, suddenly took on a whole different perspective as you started to move those cubes around. There was a piece of ritual that the Master used to do, several times a year, at morning meditations. We were always taught that it was symbolic—exactly what the symbol was, was never made quite clear—and I never questioned that. But—well, let me show you a part of it, and see whether it makes any sense to either of you. If I don't actually work the spell, I don't suppose I'm technically in violation of my vows—and if it doesn't mean anything to you, we can just drop the whole thing.”

“Queron, this really isn't necessary,” Joram began.

“Yes, it is, at least this far,” Queron replied. Drawing a deep breath, he picked up the four cubes at the outer corners of the black and white square formed in the center and placed them on their opposites, forming the familiar checkerboard of a cube altar.

“Now, there's a proper ritual procedure for what I just did, of course, but the result was to end up with this configuration, which mimics the cube altar underneath this slab.”

Evaine nodded. “The actual arrangement of the cubes is quite logical, of course. Father always suspected that there was an actual working that went with it, but we never found enough evidence of one to risk trying anything.”

“Well, I'm not certain what the intention was,” Queron said, “but what the Master used to do was to set up this configuration in the proper sequence, then recite a particular prayer while he held his hands over the checkered cube—sort of cupped, as if he were consecrating the Eucharistic elements. After a while, energy washed outward from the cube, all the way to the edge of the altar.” He cocked his head thoughtfully. “Actually, I suppose I always thought the working was to purify the altar. But now that I think about it, he only ever did it on the cubical altar in our Chapter House—never the oblong one in the sanctuary—and the cubical altar was only ever used for meditation.”

Evaine nodded. “I remember Rhys telling me about that altar—a cube of bluestone, wasn't it? And Father recognized it as a power nexus of some sort. In fact, he even wondered if there was some connection with the black and white altar under Grecotha.”

“I wonder what Queron's Master would have done with a black and white altar,” Joram mused. “And if it was only for purification, why was it never done on the regular altar?”

Raising an eyebrow, Evaine cocked her head. “Now, there's a thought—if you would agree, Queron.”

“Try it on a regular altar?” Queron said.

“No, try it on a black and white altar.” She patted the white slab beside the piled up cubes. “Try it right here.”

Queron looked uncomfortable with the thought at first, but then his expression turned more speculative. “I wonder if I
could
do it. And what hidden meanings was I missing in my youthful ignorance? Thinking back, the symbolism was
not
just that of purification, though it was a part of it.”

“I thought we were looking for a stronger warding spell,” Joram said uneasily. “Besides, what you're talking about obviously was intended to be kept secret from those not of your Order.”

“I can
do
a stronger warding,” Evaine said, a little impatiently. “That's what I brought you here to show you. But a new purification spell might also be useful—if that's even what it is. It doesn't seem to be dangerous, in any case.”

Queron nodded half reluctantly. “You're right on both counts, Joram. However, I'm not sure that hidden part of my Order even exists anymore—and we do seem to have some rather special needs. Besides that, I confess I've aroused my own curiosity as well. God, I hadn't thought about that in years.” He grimaced. “I suppose I
am
still a little uneasy about working this outside the Order, but—never mind. I'm going to do it. The oaths I've exchanged with the two of you are at least as solemn as anything I swore to the Gabrilites. Let's try it.”

“You're sure?” Evaine said.

“Yes, I'm sure.” Deftly Queron dismantled the little cube matrix and reset the individual cubes in their original starting places, the four white ones forming a square in the center, with the four blacks set at the diagonals. He twined his fingers together and flexed them backward briefly until the knuckles cracked, then disentangled them and wiggled them briefly while he ordered his thoughts and Evaine and Joram crouched to either side of him.

“I think I'll raise the altar first,” Queron murmured, poising his right hand over the cubes. “The Master always did the special working from a standing position. I don't know that it would make a difference, but I think we ought to duplicate the original conditions as much as possible.”

“I agree,” Evaine said, as Joram glared resigned disapproval.

“So, I'll name the components.
Prime
!” he said, touching his right forefinger to the white cube in the upper left of the square and speaking its
nomen
.

Immediately, the named cube began to glow.

“
Seconde
!”

The cube to its right also lit from within.

“
Tierce
!
Quarte
!”

The two white cubes below the first two also came alive, making of the four a single white square bracketed by the still unactivated black ones at the corners. Queron drew a slow, steady breath before touching the black cube at the upper left-hand corner of the larger square.

“
Quinte
!” The fifth cube began to gleam with a dark, blue-black sparkle like black opal.

“
Sixte
!” Likewise the black cube at the upper right glowed.

“
Septime
!
Octave
!”

As the last two cubes came alive, Queron stretched and flexed the fingers of his right hand and smiled as he exhaled softly.

“This
is
a beautifully balanced working,” he breathed—and set his first two fingers on Prime and Quinte as he balanced the first
phrasa: “Prime et Quinte inversus
!”

All of them felt the subtle shift in the balance of energies as the two cubes changed places, intensifying as Queron moved the next two: “
Quarte et Octave inversus
!”

Next, the tricky bits, as he set his fingers on Septime and the transposed Prime.

“
Prime et Septime inversus
!”

And finally, “
Sixte et Quarte inversus
!”

What resulted was a softly glowing saltire composed of one black and one white diagonal, Might held in balance by Mercy. And carrying the operation to its conclusion would create the Pillars of the Temple, but in three dimensions, with the balance of the altar itself firmly established as the Middle Pillar, the mediating force which could facilitate even greater things.

Picking up the black Septime, now at the upper left diagonal, Queron lightly placed it on Quinte, the black cube immediately adjacent to it, at the same time speaking the
cognomen, “Quintus
!”

The balance was off now, and he must move quickly, lest it slip irretrievably out of reach. He steadied the energies as he picked up Quarte, now in the upper right-hand corner, and deftly stacked it on Seconde, still in its original place.

“
Sixtus
!”

More energy, more manageable now, licked up his fingers as he placed Prime on Tierce, white on white, and Sixte on Octave, black on black, with the last two
cognomena
.

“
Septimus
!
Octavius
!”

And the balance steadied, so that all at once the configuration
was
the Pillars of the Temple—four miniature columns, alternating black and white, forming the miniature cube. Gathering the energies, and making of himself a channel for the balanced energies of the Middle Pillar, Queron set his hand on the cube and willed it to rise. It seemed to cleave to his palm as his hand rose, and the white marble slab rose ponderously beneath it, silent save for the soft, satiny whisper of polished stone against stone, gradually revealing the four large black and white cubes that supported it, and then the four white and black cubes that supported
them
, all squared at the corners by round columns as thick as a man's upper arm.

Queron slowly got to his feet when the second tier of cubes began to appear, not relaxing until the base of the structure emerged—a slab twin to the altar top, only black, a handspan thick. When it stopped, Queron removed his hand, flexing his fingers and exhaling loudly. Evaine and Joram had also risen with the altar and looked at him expectantly from either side.

“So far, so good,” Evaine murmured. “I assume you have to start again now. This is an end point, so far as anything
I
know.”

Sighing again, Queron nodded, dismantling the little cube and setting up the small cubes in their original configuration, white cubes forming a solid square in the center and the black ones set at the corners.

“You're still sure you want to do this?” Joram said.

Queron nodded. “I certainly do. I know a lot more now than I did as a novice. I'm curious as to what the old Master
did
intend, when he used to do this working. I remember that it was always at the Quarters and Cross-Quarters, and the novices were encouraged to keep an all night vigil in the Lady Chapel the night before—though that wasn't required. Odd, that—because otherwise, we were rarely offered such options.”

He drew another breath, as if shaking off the weight of long-ago memories, then held his hand briefly over the cubes.