"Yes, Holiness." The Cardinal rushed into the breach. "One of the young Deacons was discovered in the Great Library last night after Resting Time-"

Vanya frowned irritably and waved his pudgy hand. "Let his punishment be determined by one of the Undermasters, Cardinal. I do not have time to fool with every transgression-"

"I again beg your pardon, Holiness," interrupted the Cardinal, taking a step forward in his earnestness, "but this is not an ordinary transgression."

Vanya stared intently at the man's face and noticed, for the first time, its almost frighteningly serious and solemn intensity. His expression grave, the Bishop laid the Emperor's missive down on the desk and gave his minister his full attention. "Proceed, then."

"Holiness, the young man was found in the Inner Library"-the Cardinal hesitated, not because he was being intentionally dramatic, but in order to brace himself for the reaction of his superior-"in the Chamber of the Ninth Mystery."

Bishop Vanya regarded the Cardinal in silence, displeasure darkening his face.

"Who?" His voice grated.

"Deacon Saryon."

The frown deepened. "Saryon ... Saryon," he muttered, absently tapping the fingers of one pudgy hand upon the desk in a crawling motion, a habit he had. The Cardinal, having seen it before, was always vividly reminded of a spider making its slow, steady way across the black wood. Involuntarily, he edged a step backward as he prodded his superior's memory.

"Saryon. The mathematical prodigy, Holiness."

"Ah, yes!" The bristling brows eased slightly, the displeasure receded somewhat. "Saryon." He was thoughtful a moment, then frowned again. "How long was he there?"

"Not long, Holiness," the Cardinal hastened to assure him. "The Duuk-tsarith Duuk-tsarith were alerted almost immediately by the Undermaster, who heard a sound in the far section of the Library. Consequently, they were able to apprehend the young man within minutes of his entry." were alerted almost immediately by the Undermaster, who heard a sound in the far section of the Library. Consequently, they were able to apprehend the young man within minutes of his entry."

The Bishops face cleared, he almost smiled. Noticing, however, that the Cardinal was observing this relaxation with a growing look of shocked disapproval, Vanya Vanya immediately assumed a stern, severe air. "This must not go unpunished." immediately assumed a stern, severe air. "This must not go unpunished."

"No, of course not, Holiness."

"This Saryon must be made an example, lest others give way to temptation."

"My thoughts exactly, Holiness."

"Still," Vanya mused, sighing heavily and rising to his feet, "I cannot but think that this is partially our fault, Cardinal."

The Cardinal's eyes widened. "I assure you, Holiness," he protested stiffly, "that neither I nor any of our Masters ever so much as-"

"Oh, I don't mean that!" Vanya said, waving his hand negatingly. "I recall hearing some reports that this young man was neglecting his health and his prayers for his books. We have obviously let this Saryon get so wrapped up in his studies that he has been lost to the world. He very nearly lost his soul, as well," the Bishop added solemnly, shaking his head. "Ah, Cardinal, we might have been held accountable for that soul, but, thanks be to the Almin's mercy, we are given a chance to save the young man."

Receiving a reproachful look from the Bishop, the Cardinal muttered, "All praise to the Almin," but it was obvious that he did not consider this one of the great blessings of his life.

Turning his back upon his sulking minister, the Bishop walked over to the window and, drawing the curtain aside with one hand, looked outside as if to meditate upon the fineness of the day. But the day was far from his mind as evidenced by the fact that when the Cardinal did not speak further, Vanya-his hand still upon the curtain-glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"This young man's soul is of paramount importance, wouldn't you agree, Cardinal?"

"Certainly, Holiness," said the Cardinal, blinking as he stared into the bright light, seeing it glint in the Bishop's eye.

The Bishop returned to contemplating the morning.

"It seems to me, therefore, that we share some blame for this young mans downfall through negligence on our part in permitting him to wander alone, without guidance or supervision." Hearing no response, Vanya heaved a sigh and tapped himself on the chest with a heavy hand. "I include myself in this blame, Cardinal."

"Your Holiness is too good-"

"Therefore, doesn't it follow that his punishment should fall upon our shoulders? That we should be the example, not this young man, for it was we who failed him?"

"I suppose ..."

Letting the curtain fall suddenly, plunging the room into cool shadows once more, Vanya turned from the window to face his minister, who was once again blinking, endeavoring to adjust his eyes to the dimness as he was endeavoring to adjust his mind to his Bishop's way of thinking.

"Publicly humiliating ourselves over this incident would, however, do the Church a disservice, wouldn't you agree, Cardinal?"

"Certainly, Holiness!" The Cardinal's shock increased. So did his confusion. "Such a thing is unimaginable ..."

With a thoughtful, pensive air, the Bishop clasped his hands behind his back. "Does it not go against all our precepts, however, that we should allow another to suffer for our own transgressions?"

The Cardinal, now completely lost, could only murmur something noncommittal.

"Therefore," continued the Bishop in a soft voice, "I think it would be best for the Church itself and for the soul of this young man if this incident were ... forgotten."

The Bishop kept his gaze upon his minister. The Cardinal's expression was irresolute, then it hardened stubbornly. Vanya's brows came together again. The fingers of his hands curled around each other in irritation, hidden, as they were, behind his back. The Cardinal was generally a mild, unassuming man whose best quality, as far as Vanya was concerned, was his slowness of thought. But this very slowness had its drawback on occasions. The Cardinal's own life was measured out in equal portions of black and white; consequently, he could never see beyond those stark stripes to the subtle shades of gray. If his minister had his way, Vanya reflected bitterly, young Saryon would probably be sentenced to the Turning!

Keeping his voice calm, Vanya murmured in low tones, emphasizing the last four words, "I would hate to give even the slightest moment of grief to Saryon's mother, especially at a time when she is deeply concerned, as are we all, with the health of her cousin, the Empress .... her cousin, the Empress ...."

A muscle in the Cardinal's face twitched. He may have been slow of thought, but he was no fool-another of his valuable qualities.

"I understand," he said, bowing.

"I thought you would," Bishop Vanya said dryly. "Now"-crossing once more to his desk and continuing briskly-"who knows of this unfortunate young man's transgression?"

The Cardinal considered. "The Undermaster and the Headmaster-we had to inform him as a matter of course."

"I suppose," Vanya muttered, his hand crawling across the desk once more. "The Enforcers. Anyone else?"

"No, Holiness." The Cardinal shook his head. "Fortunately, it was Resting Time-"

"Yes." Vanya rubbed his brow. "Very well. The Duuk-tsarith Duuk-tsarith will not be a problem. I can rely upon their discretion. Send the other two to me, along with that wretched young man." will not be a problem. I can rely upon their discretion. Send the other two to me, along with that wretched young man."

"What will you do with him?"

"I don't know," Vanya said softly, lifting the Emperor's letter and staring at it with unseeing eyes. "I don't know."

But, an hour later, when the Priest who acted as the Bishop's secretary entered the office to say that Deacon Saryon was here to see him as requested, Vanya had made up his mind.

Having only an imperfect recollection of Saryon, the Bishop had been endeavoring all morning to call the young man's face to memory. This should not reflect unfavorably upon the Bishop's power of observation, for it was very acute. It is rather to his credit, in fact, that he was finally able to extract the gaunt and serious face of the young mathematical genuis from the faces of the many hundred young men and women who came and went from the Font.

Having fixed the face firmly in his mind, Vanya continued his work for another half hour after the young man's arrival had been announced. Let the poor fellow suffer a bit, Vanya told himself coolly, well knowing that the most exquisite form of torture is self-inflicted. Glancing at the timeglass upon his desk, he noted, from the position of the tiny, magical sun that was rotating above the sundial encased in its crystal prison, that the allotted time had elapsed. Lifting his hand, he caused a small silver chime to vibrate, sounding a tone. Then, rising leisurely to his feet, the Bishop placed the miter upon his head and smoothed out his robes. Moving to the center of the sumptuously appointed room, he stood waiting in awful majesty.

The door opened. The secretary appeared for an instant, but his form was swallowed in blackness as the robed and hooded, silent Duuk-tsarith Duuk-tsarith flowed past him, surrounding the stumbling figure of the young man they held between them,-surrounding him like his own private night. flowed past him, surrounding the stumbling figure of the young man they held between them,-surrounding him like his own private night.

"You may leave us," the Bishop said to the Enforcers, who bowed and vanished. The door shut noiselessly. The Bishop and his young transgressor were alone.

Keeping his expression carefully cold and stern, Vanya eyed the young man curiously. He noted to himself with satisfaction that his recollection of Saryon's features had been precise, though it took a few moments' study to ascertain this, so changed was the face that presented itself to his view. Gaunt it had been, from hours of study, but now it was cadaverous and touched with a corpselike pallor. The eyes burned feverishly, and had sunken into the high cheekbones. The tall spare frame trembled, the overlarge hands shook. Suffering and remorse and fear were visible in every line of the quivering body, in the red-rimmed eyes and the streaks that tracked down the face.

Vanya permitted himself an inner smile.

"Deacon Saryon," he began in a deep, sonorous voice. But before he could say anything further, the wretched young man hurled himself across the room, and, falling to his knees before the startled Bishop, grasped the hem of his robe and pressed it to his lips. Then, wailing something incoherent, Saryon burst into tears.

Slightly discomfited, and seeing a large stain spreading over the hem of his costly silken robe, the Bishop frowned and snatched the fabric out of the young man's grasp. Saryon did not move, but knelt there still, crouched over, his face in his hands, sobbing in misery.

"Pull yourself together, Deacon!" Vanya snapped, then added more kindly, "Come now, my boy. You have made a mistake. It isn't the end of the world. You are young. Youth is a time of exploration." Reaching down, he took hold of Saryon's arm." It is a time our feet carry us down untrodden paths," he continued, almost dragging the young man up off the floor, "where, sometimes, we encounter darkness." Steering his unsteady footsteps, the Bishop guided Saryon to a chair, talking soothingly the while. "We have only to look to the Almin for help in finding our way back. Here, that's it. Now, sit down. You've had nothing to eat or drink all night or this morning, I presume? I thought not. Try this sherry. Really quite fine, from the vineyards of Duke Algor."

Bishop Vanya poured Saryon a glass of sherry which the young man, appalled at having his Bishop serve him, shrank away from accepting as though it were poison.

Noting the young man's confusion with well-concealed pleasure, Vanya increased his kindness to him, placing the sherry in his reluctant hand. Then, removing the miter, the Bishop sat down in a soft, comfortable yet elegant chair opposite the young man. Pouring a glass of sherry for himself, he suspended it in the air near his mouth and smoothed out his robes, making himself comfortable.

Completely taken aback, Saryon could do nothing but stare at this great man, who now looked more like someone's overweight uncle than one of the mightiest powers in the land.

"The Almin be praised," said the Bishop, causing his glass to brush up against his lips, sipping a tiny bit of the excellent sherry.

"The Almin be praised," mumbled Saryon reflexively, attempting to drink and nervously sloshing most of the sherry onto his robes.

"Now, Brother Saryon," said Bishop Vanya, assuming the air of a father about to punish a beloved child, "let us drop formalities. I want to hear from your lips exactly what occurred."

The young man blinked; the glass hovering before him wavered as his concentration on it slipped. Grabbing it hastily, he set it down upon a nearby table with a trembling hand. "Holiness," murmured the wretched Saryon distractedly, "my crime ... is wicked ... unforgivable ...."

"My son," said Vanya in a tone of such infinite patience and kindness that Saryon's eyes filled with tears again, "the Almin in his wisdom knows of your crime and, in his mercy, he forgives you. Compared to our Father, I am but a poor mortal. But I, too, would share his knowledge of the crime that I may share in its forgiveness. Explain to me what led you down this dark path."

Poor Saryon was so completely overcome that for several moments he could not speak. Vanya waited, sipping his sherry with that outward look of fatherly benevolence upon his face and the inner, unseen smile of satisfaction. Finally, the young Deacon began to talk. His words came haltingly, limping at first, as his eyes sought the floor. Then, as he glanced up now and then to see the effect of what he believed were confessions of a soul so blackened and corrupt as to be lost forever and saw only compassion and understanding, he became more relaxed. His sins gushed forth in a torrent.

"I don't know what made me do it, Holiness!" he cried out helplessly. "I used to be so happy, so content here."

"I think you know. Now you must admit it to yourself," Vanya said placidly.

Saryon hesitated. "Yes, perhaps I do know. Forgive me, Holiness, but lately, I've felt-" He faltered, as though unwilling to speak.

"Bored?" suggested Vanya.

The young man flushed, shaking his head. "No. Yes. Perhaps. The duties are so simple ..." He made an impatient move with his hand. "I have learned all the skills to be a catalyst to any type of magi. Yes"-this in response to Vanya's skeptical look-"I'm not boasting. Not only that, but I have developed new mathematical formulas to take the place of centuries-old, traditional, clumsy calculations. I suppose that should have satisfied me, but it didn't. It left me hungrier." Forgetting himself in his words, Saryon talked faster and faster, finally standing up and pacing about the room, gesturing with his hands. "I started working on formulas that could pave the way for new marvels, magics never before dreamed of by man! In my research, I delved deeper and deeper into the libraries of the Font. Finally, in a remote part of the Library, I came across the Chamber of the Ninth Mystery.

"Can you imagine what I felt? No"-Saryon glanced at the Bishop in embarrassment-"how could you, who are goodness personified? I stared at the runes carved above the doorway and a feeling crept over me much akin to the feeling of the Enchantment that we feel every morning on sensing the magic. Only this feeling was not one of light and fulfillment. It was as if the darkness in my soul deepened until it was sucking me inside. I hungered and thirsted and literally shook with desire."

"What did you do?" asked Vanya, fascinated in spite of himself. "Did you enter it then?"

"No. I was too scared. I stood before the chamber, staring at it for I don't know how long." Saryon sighed wearily. "It must have been hours, because I was suddenly aware of an aching in my legs and a feeling of dizziness. I sank into a chair then, terrified, and looked around. What if I had been seen? Surely the forbidden thoughts I was thinking must be plain upon my face! But I was alone."

Unconsciously suiting his actions to his words, Saryon sank back into his chair. "Sitting there, in the Study Room near that forbidden chamber, I knew what it was to be tempted by Evil." His head lowered into his hands. "You see, Holiness, I knew, as surely as I sat in that wooden chair, that I could enter those forbidden doors! Oh, they are guarded and shielded by wards and runes"-he shrugged impatiently-"but they are such simple spells of sealing that anyone with any Life in him at all can easily undo them. It's as if they are guarded in this way as a mere formality, it being simply assumed that no one in his right mind would even want to be near the forbidden texts, let alone read them."

The young man was silent then. His voice dropping, he spoke almost to himself. "Perhaps I'm not in my right mind. It seems lately that everything I look at is distorted and foggy, as though I'm seeing it through a gauze curtain." Glancing up at Vanya, he shook his head and continued, his voice tinged with bitterness.

"I realized something else in that instant, Holiness. I had not discovered those books by accident." His fist clenched. "No, I had been searching for them, deliberately hunting for them without admitting it to myself. Entire passages of other books I had read came clearly to my mind as I sat there, passages that made reference to books that I was never able to find and assumed must have been destroyed after the Iron Wars. But, when I found that room, I knew differently. They were in there. They had to be. I'd known it all along.

"What did I do?" He laughed hysterically, a laugh that cracked into a sob. "I fled the Library as though pursued by phantoms! Running back to my cell, I cast myself upon the bed and shivered in fear."

"My son, you should have talked to someone," Vanya remonstrated gently. "Do you have so little faith in us?"

Saryon shook his head, impatiently wiping away his tears. "I almost did. The Theldara Theldara sent for me. But I was afraid." He sighed. "I thought I could manage by myself. I tried to drown this thirst for forbidden knowledge in my work. I sought to cleanse my soul in prayer and obedience to my duties. I never once missed Evening Ritual, after that. I took to exercising with the others in the courtyard, letting myself get so exhausted that I couldn't think. sent for me. But I was afraid." He sighed. "I thought I could manage by myself. I tried to drown this thirst for forbidden knowledge in my work. I sought to cleanse my soul in prayer and obedience to my duties. I never once missed Evening Ritual, after that. I took to exercising with the others in the courtyard, letting myself get so exhausted that I couldn't think.

"Above all, I avoided the Library. Yet not a moment passed-waking or sleeping-but that I did not think of that room and the treasure which lay within.

"I should have known then that I was fast losing my soul." Saryon's words swept him on. "But the ache of my desires was too much. I gave in. Last night, when everyone else had retired to their cells for Resting Time, I slipped out and crept through the corridors until I came to the Library. I didn't know the old Deacon had been posted there to scare off rodents. I don't suppose it would have stopped me had I known, so completely consumed was I by my torment.

"As I had foreseen, undoing the spells of sealing was simple. I could have cast such magic as a child. For a breathless moment I paused on the threshold, savoring the sweet ache of anticipation. Then I entered that forbidden room, my heart beating so that it came near bursting, my body drenched in sweat.

"Have you ever been in there?" Saryon looked at the Bishop, who raised his eyebrows so alarmingly that the young man shrank back. "No, no, I-I suppose not. The books are not assembled neatly or in any sort of order. They're just piled up in stacks as though they had been hurriedly tossed inside by hands eager to cleanse themselves of the contamination. I picked one up, the first one I came to." Saryon's hands twitched. "The elation and fulfillment I felt when I touched the small book made me lose all sense of sight or sound or where I was or what I was doing. I remember only holding it and thinking what wonderful mysteries were about to be revealed, and that my burning pain would burst forth at last and free me from its torment."

"And what was it like?" Bishop Vanya asked very softly.

Saryon smiled wanly. "Dull. Boring. Turning the pages, I grew more and more confused. I understood nothing of it, absolutely nothing! It was filled with crude drawings of strange and senseless devices, containing oblique references to such things as 'wheels' and 'gears' and 'pulleys.'" Sighing, Saryon's head drooped and he whispered in the voice of a disappointed child, "It didn't mention one thing about mathematics."

Vanya's inner smile slipped out upon his lips, but it didn't matter. Saryon wasn't looking at him, the young man was staring at his shoes.

In a lifeless voice, Saryon concluded. "At that moment, the Enforcers came in and ... everything went black. I-I don't remember anything more until ... until I found myself in my cell." Exhausted, he sank back into the soft cushions of his chair, his head in his hands.

"What did you do then?"

"Took a bath." Looking up, Saryon saw Vanya's smile and, assuming it was at this statement, added by way of explanation. "I felt so filthy and dirty, I must have bathed twenty times last night."

Bishop Vanya nodded in understanding. "And, no doubt, you spent the night imagining what your punishment might be."

Saryon's head dropped again. "Yes, Holiness, of course," he murmured.

"Undoubtedly you saw yourself sentenced to become one of the Watchers-turned to stone to stand forever on the Border of the land."

"Yes, Holiness," Saryon spoke in a low tone, barely audible. "It is nothing more than I deserve."

"Ah, Brother Saryon, if we were all punished so drastically for seeking knowledge, this would be a land of stone statues-and deservedly so. The search for knowledge is not evil. You sought in the wrong place, that is all. This dreadful knowledge was banished for a reason. It very nearly destroyed our land. But you are not alone. All of us are tempted by Evil at one time or another in our lives. We understand. We do not condemn. You must trust us. You should have come to me or one of the Masters for guidance."

"Yes, Holiness. I am sorry."

"As for your punishment, it has already been inflicted."

Astonished, Saryon raised his head.

Vanya smiled gently, his voice pleasant. "My son, you have suffered far more this night than your mild crime merited. I would not add to it for the world. No, in fact, I am going to offer you something to try in some small way to make up for what I fear is my share in your crime."

"Holiness!" Saryon's face flushed, then went white. "Your share? No! I am the one-"

Vanya waved a deprecating hand. "No, no. I have not been open with you young people. It is obvious that you consider me unapproachable. The same is true, I begin to see, with the other members of the hierarchy. We will try to remedy that. But, for now, you need a change of scenery to brush these dusty cobwebs from your mind. Therefore, Deacon Saryon," said Bishop Vanya, "I would like to take you with me to Merilon, to assist in the Testing of the Royal Child, whose birth is expected to take place any day now. What do you say to that?"

The young man could not respond, being literally struck dumb. This was an honor for which the members of the Order had been politically vying and shuffling for months-ever since it was announced that the Empress was finally with child. Being absorbed in his studies and consumed by his lust for forbidden knowledge, Saryon had paid little attention to the talk. He was outside the circle of the popular young men and women in the seminary anyway and figured he would not have been asked to go, even if he had wanted it.