The Witches of Ne'arth (The Star Wizards Trilogy Book 2) (43 page)

The path curved and widened into a field filled with other vehicles that were disgorging and accepting passengers.  Matt knew it was a parking lot because they used to have them on Earth.  The coach pulled alongside the curb and Matt disembarked.  As he paid his fare, he received a confused stare from the driver, who probably wondered how his passenger had boarded as a clean-shaven black-haired youth and was exiting as a bearded redheaded man.  Matt tipped him extra, and there were no questions.

Matt followed the crowd down the hedged pathways, categorizing people by dress.  Those in coveralls would be workers, those dressed like pedestrians on the streets of Hafik were probably tourists.  Those dressed in immaculate and uncomfortable formal clothing who were keeping their heads bowed and voices low would be . . . The Devout. 

They were, he thought, as subdued as cats soaked in an hour of rain. 

Most ominous of all, were throngs of men in robes of brown and black.  They held their heads up and glared sternly, forbidding all doubt of their divine selection.

The path entered a small courtyard and circled around a statue on a pedestal.  A thrice life-size, full-bodied figure in bronze glared westward.  Matt did not recognize the features of the bearded face until he noticed the sidelong glances that he was receiving from the others in the crowd. 

The crowd flowed around the statue, exiting the courtyard through a gap in the hedges at the other end.  The path ended and the crowd collected before the steps of the Cathedral.

“Matt,” Ivan said.  “Your biometric readings indicate extreme discomfort.  Are you experiencing psychological stress?”

“You could say that,” Matt replied stoically.

From the front, the Cathedral was a wall of stone with pinnacles and ledges, level after level decorated by statues of dragons and sky serpents and gargoyle-like creatures that Matt hoped didn't actually exist.  Wedge-shaped windows tinted in dark colors were clustered in circular arrangements like petals of giant flowers.  The massive pillars of the support columns appeared capable of withstanding a tsunami.

The crowd clustered before the steps, dwarfed by the immensity of the edifice.  The murmur of conversation had become muted.  Some stared, others took pictures, and Matt felt sheepish. 

Don't look at me.  I didn't have anything to do with this. 

The crowd coagulated into a line the extended up the steps.  At the top was a chalkboard with a message:  NEXT TOUR AT 3:00.  Matt consulted the Ne'arthian local-time chronometer displayed in the lower right corner of his vision.  Fifteen minutes to wait.       

“I have scanned the vicinity for potential dangers,” Ivan said.  “There appear to be only two guards.  They are armed with inaccurate kinetic hand weapons.  I have identified potential escape routes.”

“Good,” Matt mumbled, lost in thought. 

“Matt.  Is there anything you would like me to do at this time?”

“I don't know.  Look for clues.”

“What kind of clues should I look for?”

“Clues for the whereabouts of my clone.”

“The statue in the adjacent courtyard bears physical features that strikingly resemble your own.  It is possible that it portrays your archival clone.”

“Yeah.  That means he was here a long time ago.  We need something more recent.”

“I will continue my olfactory scans.  However, the presence of a large number of persons in the immediate vicinity is rendering it difficult to identify a particular scent.”

“Do the best you can.”

“Yes, Matt.  Hypermode is now in standby.  Matt, I – “

“Ivan, could you be quiet for a while?  I need to think.  This is kind of, well, overwhelming.”

“I do not understand, but I will comply.”

Then Matt became too upset to hold it in, and he blurted:  “This is insane!  Remember curing the plague our first night on the planet?  People tried to worship me, I wouldn't let them.  This guy
wants
people to worship him.  How can
he
be
me
?”

“We have discussed how it would be necessary for an immortal being to periodically cull his memories.  As memories are foundational to personality, it is possible that he has significantly diverged – “

“And the people in Britan, they had their superstitions but they were happy.  These people look
miserable
.  You can tell they're being repressed.  I always thought my history teachers were being unfair when they said that no founder of a religion ever believed in his own teachings, that it was all for social control.  But now . . . I don't know.”

“Yes, Matt.”

“Anyhow, we'll take the tour and see if it tells us anything about where he is.  I'm sure the stories are mostly fiction, but maybe we can find some truth in the crap.”

“Yes, Matt.” 

Impatient, Matt let his gaze wander up the steps to the front doorway.  A life-sized statue solemnly gazed back.  The plaque at its feet read:  SAINT STOKER. 

“I wonder who he was.”

“Given the appellation 'saint,' he is likely to have been a disciple of the Star Wizard.  Also likely, given his placement at the front of the cathedral, he is the leader of the founding church hierarchy.”

Around three o'clock, a young woman dressed smartly with a small round hat embroidered with the word GUIDE removed the rope barrier.  The line filed inside.  Coins and bills were stuffed into a donations box at the door.  Matt wanted to blend in, but also didn't want to support what he knew – more so than anyone else on the planet – was an enterprise of deceit.  He compromised by tossing in loose change only.

The inside of the cathedral seemed larger than the outside.  The tinted windows, so dark from without, glowed brilliantly when seen from the interior.  Pillars of colored sunlight spilled upon the pews and aisles down the length of the main chamber.  The illustrated scenes in the stained glass were cartoonish, yet the vibrancy of the colors made them seem alive.

The guide stood straight and held her hands primly, waiting until the tour group gathered and stilled.

“The Cathedral of the Star Wizard,” she said, her words echoing upon the high rafters, “is the largest Church of the Star Wizard in the Attainable World, and likely anywhere in the entire world.  The ground upon which it is built is considered sacred, as tradition states it was the last place the Wizard was seen by his followers before ascending to Aereoth over a hundred years ago.  The artistic depictions which we find in the cathedral depict the major known events in the life of the Holy Matt, Wizard of Aereoth, and are intended for the uplifting and edification of all believers who make the pilgrimage to the Abbey of Klun.  We will now walk through the stations of these depictions, experiencing for ourselves the Wizard's life on Ne'arth.” 

She gestured to the first stained glass window on their left.  “We start with this portrayal of the Arrival of the Star Wizard, as he emerges from his Celestial Egg – “

Matt surmised the scene represented his clone emerging from his OSV.  As the artist had only fourth- and-more-hand accounts to go by, the OSV was portrayed as a winged chariot surrounded by a halo of fire.  Instead of climbing out of the vehicle, the Holy Matt was levitating.  His expression was serenity bordering on stupor, and his head was encompassed by an aura that made his head seem like it was inside a translucently-gold fishbowl. 

I feel uplifted already
, Matt thought.  Edification, though, seemed to be taking its time.   

The group moved to the second window.  The Wizard was seated among children who, unlike real children, were sitting still and listening raptly to religious instruction.

“Here we see that wherever the Wizard went, children wanted to be around him so that they might learn of his truth and love.  Yet even today, parents restrain their children from coming to the church, out of ignorance and fear.”

And justified concern
, Matt thought.  His history teachers had warned of how religious leaders would invoke demands of blind faith and absolute obedience to exploit and abuse children.  He hoped that was one tradition that hadn't been copied from Earth.

The tour followed the windows on the left, and their guide related the illustrated events. 

Window #3:  The Wizard is given the great commission by the Lords of Aereoth to reconcile the sinful people of Ne'arth to righteousness. 

Window #4:  The Wizard arrives on Ne'arth and gathers His disciples, anointing Saint Stoker as the first Archbishop of His Holy Church. 

Window #5:  To the awe of multitudes, the Wizard performs great works of healing the sick, raising the dead, enabling the blind to see. 

Nothing to worship
, Matt thought ruefully. 
It's just molecular medicine. 

In forty minutes, the guide's patter took them window-scene by window-scene down the rows to the altar at the end of the great chamber, then back on the other side of windows to the entry.  Scenes of healing and teaching gave way to battles against demons and monsters. 

The 'Boss Monster' of the Final Battle was a flying cube the size of a house that flailed tentacles and shot lightning bolts.  The guide referred to it as  'The Pandor-Beast.' 

The final window-scene portrayed the Wizard rising into the sky as his followers devoutly knelt.  The guide concluded:  “And so the Star Wizard has ascended to rejoin the Lords of Aereoth, yet will come again soon, reborn as the Star Child to right the wrongs of the world and gather the select who believe in him to share in his eternal kingdom.  Are there any questions?”

A man timidly raised his hand and asked contritely, “”I've never been able to fully understand the Doctrine of the Holy Duality.  The Wizard and the Star Child are two different people, yet the same person.  How is that possible?”

The guide smoothly replied,  “That question is often asked here.  One simply must accept the doctrine on faith, because the reality is beyond human understanding.”

He's my freaking archival clone
, Matt thought.  How hard was that to understand? 

Another hand rose.  “What about 'Mentorism?'”

“Church Doctrine regards Mentorism as a heresy.”

“But – “

“I'm sorry, because of the divisiveness of the issue, I cannot comment further.”

Matt pondered:  If the Mentors had become official non-persons, they must have resisted the Church.  But why would they do that, if they were followers of the Wizard?

Another hand.  “What about the so-called 'Accompanying Spirit of Holiness?'”

“Basically,” the guide replied, resuming to the same calm voice as before, “there is the sectarian belief that when the Wizard ascended to Aereoth, he bequeathed the holy power of his Accompanying Spirit, to his chief follower, Saint Stoker.  The Accompanying Spirit empowers the 'host' to perform great deeds.  While the early Church taught that the Accompanying Spirit was passed exclusively from Archbishop to Archbishop, today all believers may receive the Accompanying Spirit when they accept him in faith.”

“This is not helping,” Matt subvocaled. 

“Your blood pressure reading is abnormally high,” Ivan said.

“I'd like to punch my clone in the face.  Look how serious these people are!  They're not stupid, they're well-intentioned, they're probably good people, but they've been programmed to believe this crap.”

“By 'programmed,' you mean cultural immersion as well as doctrinal instruction during childhood.”

“Isn't there a quote by Voltaire about absurd beliefs?”

“'
Those who can make you believe in absurdities can make you commit atrocities
.'”

“That's where this is going.  If it hasn't gone there already.”

The tour group's questions continued, but Ivan intervened:  “Matt.  My olfactory sensors detect the presence of additional chemical kinetic weapons and dogs on the grounds outside.  This combination indicates that a security sweep in progress.”

Matt tried to see through a window.  Between the staining and warping of the glass, he saw only blurs.  Ivan's image processing was equally unsuccessful.

“Okay, let's act natural.  It might just be a routine security patrol.”

He surveyed the interior of the church.  Other than the tour group and a girl scrubbing the floor before the altar, it was empty. 

“We might be safe in here,” Matt said, “They won't come into the cathedral because it's sacred ground, right?”

“There are numerous historical counterexamples of political violation of church sanctity,” Ivan said.  “Archbishop Thomas Beckett was assassinated before the altar of Canterbury Cathedral in Standard Year 1170.   During the Battle of Chapultepec, in Standard Year 1847, Captain Ulysses S. Grant placed a howitzer in a church bell tower to – “

“Numerous examples.  Got it.  We're still in hypermode standby, right?”

“Yes, Matt.  However, I must remind you that hypermode standby also depletes hypermode resources.  We have approximately twenty more minutes before I must discontinue standby.”

“Ivan, you're displaying the hypermode timer.  I can see it.  It's floating right there in front of me.”