"And?"
Matt stiffened. Was the old priest a mind reader? He sighed and leaned forward, elbows on the ledge. "All right, Father. After that, the princess and I got into a bit of an argument, and the end of it was that I got up on my high horse and denied the existence of Good, Evil, God, Satan, and sin. And that's it."
"What then changed your mind, that you came here?"
Oh, this guy was good.
He was really good. Matt took a deep breath. "Okay, Father. Let me tell you about this dream I had..
He gave the friar a shortened version, emphasizing the despair, which was a sin, and his illusions, which couldn't exactly be said to be wholesome. When he finished, he waited in apprehension.
But the old friar murmured, "You were fortunate indeed to have a sponsor from the host of Good."
Matt nodded. "Yeah. I've heard that dreams can kill."
"You were dead already." The old man's tone sharpened. "Be sure! You were in Hell. Which was, most surely, penance..." The old man sighed. "But not earthly penance. For your sins, say five rosaries..."
It went on from there, and it went on for a while. Matt absorbed it all, amazed at the devaluation of sin since the Middle Ages.
"And ten Glorias," the old man finished.
"Thank you, Father." Matt started to get up.
"And one thing more."
Matt froze. Here came the goodie!
"For your latter sins," the friar mused, "I charge you with a mission."
"Uh, well, I'm kinda busy just now..."
"'Tis in your path, for your party must needs travel west. This witch, Sayeesa, must go to a certain place, there to atone for her multitude of sins. I charge you with safekeeping of this broken witch, till she comes to her destination."
Matt swallowed. "Anything you say, Father."
"Then go your way, and try to sin no more. In Nomine Patri, et Filio..."
Matt came out of the booth, shaken but resolute. He turned toward the door...
"A moment, my son."
Matt froze. When would he learn to move fast?
He turned slowly. "Uh, you had a postscript, Father?"
The old priest stood in front of the curtain, nodding. "Bring me the witch."
Matt stared.
Then he cleared his throat and said, "Uh, Father-are you sure? I mean, a witch.. ."
"Her power is broken, and you tell me her conscience now troubles her, so much so that she would destroy herself. She is in despair, one of the most insidious of sins. Bring her to me."
"I, uh, don't think she'll be exactly willing.. .
"Did I ask, if she was?" For a humble friar, he had a very commanding, penetrating stare. "Bring her to me."
Matt swallowed and turned away. "Well ... okay. You know what you're doing ... I guess."
Behind him, he heard the whisper of sandaled feet as the friar crossed to the center aisle and strode down toward the altar. In the doorway, Matt glanced back, doubtful, and saw the old man kneeling at the communion rail, head bowed, before the tabernacle. Sunlight struck down through the ruined roof, and a shimmering glow seemed to envelop him, a sort of aura...
Matt turned away, giving his head a quick shake. It must be his imagination. It had been overstimulated recently, no doubt about it.
Alisande stood by her horse, holding its improvised halter, looking worried. She saw Matt and quickly looked angry. "You were in the church overlong, Wizard."
"Sorry." Matt gave her a sickly grin. "Four years of sins take a little time."
"Four years ... ?" Sir Guy's ,eyebrows lifted. "Come, Lord Matthew! Do you mean to say there was a priest in there?"
"Still is." Matt took a deep breath, shaking his head. "Don't ask me how or why - but he's there, all right. And..." He nodded toward Sayeesa. "He wants her."
"Wants ... ?" Sayeesa stared, thunderstruck. "Come, sir - you jest! I, go near a priest? I, a witch? How would I dare?"
"What you would, or wouldn't, doesn't make any difference, apparently." Matt yanked a dagger from Sir Guy's belt and went to Sayeesa's horse. "Hold still, now - I'd rather not see blood for a while."
"But you cannot mean it! Why, I'd ... Aieee!"
"I told you to hold still!" Matt sawed at the knot holding her hands to the saddle horn; the rope parted. He caught her wrists in one hand while he whittled at the rope binding her feet. "You still don't get the message. "You-are-going-to that priest!"
"You can't take me there against my will! What use is a churching, if it's forced? Nay! Leave me be!" She began to twist and thrash her arms. Matt hung onto her wrists for dear life. "Sir Guy! A little help, here!"
Frowning, the Black Knight came slowly over, caught Sayeesa's waist, and dragged her from her horse. She screamed, kicking and writhing. "Nay! You'll not hale me there! I will not!"
"Willing or not, you're going. There's something about this old friar that doesn't brook argument. Come on, lady!" Matt dropped the dagger and flung both arms around her.
"Stand away!" Alisande's face was dark with fury. "Take your hands from her, Lord Wizard. I command you!"
"Glad to comply," Matt ground out, "after she's inside. Let's go, Sir Guy!"
Sayeesa looked from Matt to Sir Guy as they hustled her toward the chapel. "But you are mad! You both have taken leave of your senses! I'll defile that church by my mere presence! Will you take a witch into a church? Bethink you of..." She broke off with a horrified gasp, staring at the inside of the church.
The old friar stood just inside the door, head bowed and shoulders hunched, staring gravely into her eyes.
Sayeesa screamed, and her whole body bucked in a frenzy of anger and terror. Her scream had words, but Matt preferred not to think about their meaning. He just hung on to the wildly whipping body for all he was worth and tried to ignore the feeling of unseen forces thundering in.
The friar's stern old face darkened, grave and somber. He drew a small, round, silver case from the breast of his robe. He opened it and held it up before Sayeesa's eyes.
It was the Host, the consecretated wafer of Communion.
Sayeesa went rigid, her breath rattling in, eyes bulging. Then she gave a hoarse and shrieking wail and went into convulsions.
Matt hung on grimly; so did Sir Guy. Matt felt two unseen wave fronts slam together, one straining towards the church, one away from it, crashing into one another at Sayeesa's body. She tossed and jerked wildly, whipped back and forth by colliding forces.
Matt became aware of another tone underneath her screaming, a strong and steady drone-the friar's voice, chanting Latin. It was beyond the liturgical Latin Matt had picked up at boyhood Masses, and it was taking on a strong and heavy beat. It grew louder and more rhythmic as Sayeesa'a screams weakened, and Matt realized her body had begun to twist in time to the old man's meter. The forces about them were tightening, but pressing against one another to a deadlock, without movement.
The friar's chant thundered to a peak as he thrust the Host up high, looking up toward it, toward Heaven - and Sayeesa screamed, a long, drawn-out shriek, agony from the depths of soul and body, both. Then her voice cut off, and she fell completely limp. The walls of force were gone.
Perspiring and trembling, the old friar slowly closed the viaticum, hiding the Host from sight, and slid it back inside his robe. He turned to Matt, nodding toward the interior of the church. "Bring her in."
Sir Guy swung Sayeesa's arm up over his shoulder and stepped forward; but the priest held up a hand. "Nay. The wizard only."
Sir Guy looked up, startled. Then, slowly, he stepped back, letting go of Sayeesa.
Matt caught the unconscious body, swung an arm under her knees, and hefted her up, staggering. He carried her into the church, slowly and carefully, wondering how such a slender woman could weigh so heavily.