.VI.

Captain Merlin Anthrawes' Quarters,

Archbishop's Palace,

and Royal Palace,

City of Tellesberg,

Kingdom of Charis

June 12, Year of God 143 Tellesberg Enclave Safehold "To whoever reads this journal, greetings in the name of the true God.

"My name is Jeremiah Knowles, and I am an Adam. I first opened my eyes on Safehold on the morning of Creation, and my mind and my soul were new-made, as clear and clean as the world about me. I looked upon the work of the Archangels and of God, and my heart was filled with joy and reverence.

"Like my fellow Adams and Eves, I met the Archangels. I saw the Blessed Langhorne, and the Holy Bedard. And I knew Shan-wei, the Bright One Who Fell.

"There are many others who have seen the Archangels I have seen, heard and read the Holy Writ I have heard and read. Many of us have lived out even the span of an Adam or an Eve and passed from this world, yet even now, there are hundreds of thousands-possibly millions-of us still living in this one hundred and forty-third year since the Creation. But of every one of those souls here in Tellesberg, I alone, and my three companions-Evelyn Knowles, my wife; Kayleb Sarmac, Evelyn's brother; and Jennifer Sarmac, Kayleb's wife-have known what none of those others have known. "We know that the 'Holy Writ' is a lie . . . and that there are no Archangels.' "

The being known as Merlin Athrawes sat in the unlit blackness of his quarters in Tellesberg Palace, his eyes closed, looking at the pages stored in his molycirc brain, and tried to take it all in.

It was hard. Indeed, in many ways it was harder for him to absorb this than it had been for Nimue Alban to learn she'd been dead for over eight centuries. Of all the things he might have discovered, this was the one which would never have occurred to him.

He opened his eyes, using his light-gathering optics to gaze through the daylight-bright darkness and out his sleeping chamber's window at the slumbering city of Tellesberg. There'd been no time for him to read the incredible documentary treasure Maikel Staynair and Zhon Byrkyt had shown him at Saint Zherneau's. But there'd been time for him to examine every page of the manuscript journal, and he was a PICA. He had what truly was a "photographic memory," and he had pored over the stored imagery for over six hours now while all around him the rest of Tellesberg Palace and the capital of the Ahrmahks lay wrapped in the sleep he no longer needed.

"Owl," he said quietly, activating his built-in com.

"Yes, Lieutenant Commander," a silent voice said somewhere deep inside him as Owl, the Ordonez-Westinghouse-Lytton tactical computer in the hidden chamber where Nimue had awakened, replied, bouncing his signal off the carefully stealthed SNARC high above the body of water known as The Cauldron.

"Have you completed that data search?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Commander."

"Did you find the specified names?"

"I did, Lieutenant Commander. There are, however, data anomalies."

"Data anomalies?" Merlin sat straighter, eyes narrowing. "Specify data anomalies."

"Yes, Lieutenant Commander. The names you directed me to search for appear in both the Colony Administration's official roster of colonists, a copy of which was filed in my memory by Commodore Pei, and in the roster of colonists filed in my memory by Dr. Pei Shan-wei. They are not, however, assigned to the same population enclaves in both rosters."

"They aren't?" Merlin frowned.

"That is correct, Lieutenant Commander," Owl replied. A more capable AI would have explained the "data anomalies" in greater detail. Owl, on the other hand, clearly felt no need to do so.

"Where were they assigned?" Merlin asked, reminding himself rather firmly-again-that Owl's version of self-awareness was still. . . limited. The manual promised him that eventually the AI's heuristic programming would bring Owl to a fuller state of awareness. That he would begin recognizing rhetorical questions, responding without being specifically cued, and even start providing necessary explanations or potentially significant unexpected correlations of data search results without being specifically instructed to do so.

In Merlin's considered opinion, "eventually" couldn't possibly come too soon.

"According to Administrator Langhorne's official roster, Jeremiah Knowles, known as 'Jere Knowles,' his wife, his brother-in-law, and his sister-in-law were assigned to the Tellesberg enclave. According to Dr. Pei's roster, all four of them were assigned to the Alexandria enclave."

Merlin blinked. He'd never thought to check Shan-wei's notes on the original placement of colonists against the official record, never suspected there might be discrepancies between them. Now, however, he wondered why the possibility hadn't occurred to him.

Because the Commodore didn't say anything about it to you in his downloads, that's why, he thought.

"Are there additional 'data anomalies' between the two rosters?" he asked Owl. "Additional cases in which colonists appear assigned to more than one enclave?"

"Unknown, Lieutenant Commander," Owl said calmly, with the total lack of curiosity Merlin found maddening.

"Well," he said with what a human being would have recognized as dangerous patience, "find out if any such additional anomalies exist. Now, Owl."

"Yes, Lieutenant Commander."

The AI's tone was completely devoid of any suggestion that it had recognized Merlin's impatience. Which, of course, only made it even more maddening, Merlin reflected.

But whatever his shortcomings in terms of personality might be, Owl was a very fast worker. His analysis of the two rosters took less than two minutes, despite the millions of names in each of them.

"There are additional anomalies, Lieutenant Commander," he informed Merlin.

"Well," Merlin said twenty seconds later, "what sort of additional anomalies did you discover? And how many of them are there?"

"All of the anomalies discovered fall into the same category as those already known, Lieutenant Commander. They consist of colonists who appear to have been assigned to multiple enclaves. In all cases, the enclave listed in Dr. Pei's roster is Alexandria. In Administrator Langhorne's roster, they are assigned to several different enclaves. I have detected a total of two hundred and twelve such anomalies."

"I see," Merlin said slowly, his frustration with the AI's lack of spontaneity and initiative fading as he contemplated the numbers.

I know what she was up to, he thought, and his mental tone was almost awed. My God, she was creating a second string for her how, and she didn't even tell the Commodore. That's the only possible reason he wouldn't have told me about it in his message. He frowned. Was this something she'd intended to do all along, or did it only occur to her after they'd officially separated because of their supposed disagreement? And how did she manage to doctor the records without Langhorne and Bedard realizing what she'd done?

There was no way for anyone to know the answers to any of those questions at this distant remove. But if Merlin didn't know how Pei Shan-wei had done it, he did know what she'd attempted.

He flipped ahead through the recorded pages of Jeremiah Knowles' journal to the passage he wanted.

". . . no more idea of the truth, then, than any of our fellow Adams and Eves. None of us were aware of the mental programming Bedard had carried out at Langhorne's orders. But when Dr. Pei realized what Langhorne had done, she took measures of her own. There was no way for her or any member of her staff in the Alexandria enclave to restore the memories of our past lives which had been taken from us. But, unknown to Langhorne and Bedard, she had secretly retained three NEATs. With them, she was able to reeducate a handful of the original colonists. We were among them. "

Merlin nodded to himself Of course that was what she'd done. It had been risky just to retain the Neural Education and Training machines, no doubt, given Langhorne's plans and willingness to crush any opposition, and actually using them on the colonists would have been even more dangerous. But it couldn't have been any riskier than her open refusal to destroy the records of the truth stored in Alexandria. Unfortunately, neither had been enough.

I can't believe this has all been just sitting here for over seven hundred local years, he thought. I wonder if any of her other "sleepers" survived Alexandria's destruction? And if they did, did they leave a record like "Saint Zherneau's," or did they simply dive as deep into their cover identities as they could? And how in Hell did this journal of his manage to survive when the Brethren finally found it?

He had no idea how to answer any of those questions, either . . . but he rather suspected that he knew someone who did.

"His Eminence will see you now, Captain Athrawes."

"Thank you, Father," Merlin said as the under-priest opened the door to Archbishop Maikel's office and bowed the visitor through it.

Sunlight poured through the window that looked out across Tellesberg to the broad, blue waters of the harbor. A dense forest of masts and yards grew out of the waterfront, birds and wyverns rode the updrafts, hovering gracefully as the thoughts of God, and weather-stained sails dotted the harbor beyond them. Staynair's office was located on the lofty (for Safehold) Archbishop's Palace's third floor, and Merlin could see down into the busy streets, where people, dragon-drawn freight wagons, and horse-drawn streetcars seethed and bustled.

"Seijin Merlin," Staynair greeted him, holding out his ring hand with a smile. "How nice to see you again."

"And so very unexpected, I'm sure, Your Eminence," Merlin murmured as he brushed his lips across the proffered ring.

"No, not unexpected," Staynair acknowledged. He sat backdown behind his desk and a wave of his hand invited Merlin to sit in the comfortable chair on the far side of it. He continued to smile as his guest settled into the chair, but the smile had turned a bit more tense, Merlin observed.

"May I assume, Your Eminence, that any conversation you and I might have here today won't be overheard by other ears?"

"Of course you may." Staynair frowned slightly. "My staff understands that unless I specifically tell them otherwise, any conversation I have in this office is as privileged as any other confession."

"I was reasonably confident that was the case, Your Eminence. Under the circumstances, however, I felt I had no option but to be certain of it."

"I suppose that's understandable enough," Staynair conceded. "And I'm quite aware that Zhon and I handed you a rather . . . significant surprise, shall we say, yesterday."

"Oh, you could certainly describe it that way, Your Eminence." Merlin smiled dryly.

"And I'm sure you have questions," Staynair continued. "Under the circumstances, I think it might be simpler for you to just go ahead and ask them rather than having me attempt to explain everything."

"I imagine that explaining 'everything' is going to take considerably more than a single afternoon," Merlin said, and Staynair actually chuckled.

"Very well, then, Your Eminence," Merlin continued, "I suppose my first question has to be why 'Saint Zherneau's' journal and the other documents with it weren't simply destroyed, or handed over to the Inquisition, when they were finally rediscovered?"

"Partly because they weren't 'rediscovered' at all, Seijin Merlin." Staynair leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "The Brethren of Saint Zherneau always knew exactly where all of them were; we simply didn't know what they were. Saint Zherneau and Saint Evahlyn left them sealed, with solemn directions for the Brethren to leave them that way for three hundred and fifty years after their deaths. Their instructions were followed to the letter."

"And the reason they weren't simply destroyed or regarded as the most heinous possible heresy when they were unsealed?"

"There, I think, you see the planning-or the impact, at least-of Saint Zherneau," Staynair said seriously. "Most of the religious philosophy and thought of Saint Zherneau and Saint Evahlyn was as orthodox as Mother Church could possibly have asked. For reasons which make perfectly good sense, I'm sure, now that you've had an opportunity to read his journal. You did read it overnight, didn't you, Seijin?"

"Yes, I did." Merlin regarded the archbishop with a speculative gaze.

"I assumed that was why you examined each page individually at Saint Zherneau's," Staynair murmured. Merlin cocked an eyebrow, and the archbishop smiled slightly. "The ability of the seijin to memorize things at a glance is a part of their legendary prowess. In fact, I rather suspect that was one of the reasons you decided to become one."

"I see." Merlin leaned back in his own chair and rested his elbows on its upholstered arms, steepling his fingertips across his chest. "Please, Your Eminence. Continue with your explanation."

"Of course, Seijin" Staynair agreed with a slightly ironic nod. "Let me see, where was I? Ah, yes. The single aspect in which Saint Zherneau's teachings departed from the mainstream of Church thought was the fashion in which he and Saint Evahlyn both emphasized tolerance and toleration so strongly and made it so central to their thought. The responsibility of all godly people to see all other human beings as their true brothers and sisters in God. To reason and remonstrate with those who might be in error, rather than condemning without seeking to understand. And to be open to the possibility that those who disagree with them may, in fact, prove in the end to be correct-or, at least, closer to correct-than they themselves had been at the beginning of the disagreement."

The archbishop paused, shaking his head. Then he looked away, gazing out his office window at the roofs and spires of Tellesberg.

"There is a reason Charis has worried the Inquisition for so long," he said quietly, "and not all of it was simple paranoia on the part of Inquisitors like Clyntahn. Despite the small size of the Monastery of Saint Zherneau, the Brethren of Saint Zherneau have wielded a disproportionate influence here in Charis for generations.

"Many of our local clergy have passed through Saint Zherneau's at one time or another. Indeed, I've often wondered what would have happened had the Inquisition been able to cross-post our clergy the way it has the mainland clergy. One thing, I suspect, is that it might have learned of Saint Zherneau's. . . influence if more of our homegrown priests had been assigned to mainland parishes. Not to mention what might have happened had the Church's senior positions here in Charis been more completely filled by foreigners. Fortunately, the Inquisition's distrust of Charisian orthodoxy has left the Church disinclined to expose other congregations to our contaminating notions, so very few of our local clergy have been posted to churches outside Charis itself. And the difficulty in getting senior churchmen to agree to serve out here at the edge of the world has worked in our favor in many ways, as well. Not least is that none of the relatively small number of truly senior clergy sent into Charis have even begun to suspect what the Brethren of Saint Zherneau have truly become here in the Kingdom and the Archbishopric."

"And what have they become, Your Eminence?" Merlin asked quietly.

"Agents of subversion," Staynair said simply. "Only a very small handful of the most senior Brethren are aware of the existence of Saint Zherneau's Journal or any of the other documents. Outside that handful, none of them have ever heard of a book called The History of the Terran Federation, or of a document called The Declaration of Independence. What every Brother of Saint Zherneau has been taught, however, is that every individual is responsible for his or her personal relationship with God. The Inquisition would most certainly find that teaching pernicious, even though it's precisely what the Holy Writ says. Because, Seijin Merlin," the archbishop looked back from the window, his eyes dark and intense, "a personal relationship implies both toleration and questions. It implies a personal search for God, a need to understand one's relationship with Him for oneself, not simply the regurgitation of official doctrine and catechisms."

Merlin nodded slowly as he felt previously unsuspected puzzle pieces slotting into position. So that was the explanation-or part of the explanation at least-for the openness, the sense of inclusiveness, which had attracted Nimue Alban to Charis and its society when she first set about seeking a proper base of operations.

"Almost every Brother of Saint Zherneau is aware that our emphasis on personal relationships with God would not find favor with the Inquisition," Staynair continued. "But not one of them, to the best of our knowledge, has ever brought the philosophy of Saint Zherneau to the Inquisition's attention. And that, Merlin, is because there is something in most men which cries out to know God. To find that personal, direct relationship with Him. The Brethren of Saint Zherneau-all of the Brethren of Saint Zherneau-recognize that wellspring of personal faith and belief within themselves. And although we never specifically address the point, all of them know it must be both protected and passed on."

"And it's also the first line of defense, isn't it, Your Eminence?" Merlin said shrewdly.

"Of course it is." Staynair's smile was crooked. "As I say, very few of the Brethren have ever learned the full truth of Saint Zherneau's writings. But by protecting and preserving the portions of Saint Zherneau's teachings of which they are aware, they also protect and preserve the portion of which they are not aware. For reasons I'm sure you can understand, it's been necessary to limit complete knowledge to a relatively small number of people. That's been a problem for many of us over the centuries, because it goes against the grain to deceive, even if only by omission, those who are truly our brothers. Yet we've had no choice, and so the majority of the Brethren have always viewed our purpose as gradual reform-as teaching the clergy to truly serve the souls of God's children rather than the wealth and power of Mother Church.

"Even that has scarcely been a safe mission over the years, of course. But many of our number, the majority of whom do not know of the existence of Zherneau's journal, have risen to relatively high positions in our local churches, and from those positions, they've sheltered and aided other Brethren of Saint Zherneau. Which is, of course, one reason why such a high percentage of our local priests were prepared to support our break with the Council of Vicars."

"I can see that, too," Merlin agreed.

"Don't misunderstand me, Merlin," Staynair said soberly. "When Zherneau's journal was first unsealed four hundred years ago, it was deeply shocking to the then Abbot. Only his own deep-seated faith in the teachings of Saint Zherneau kept him from doing one of the things you'd wondered about. He very seriously considered simply destroying all of it, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even the 'mainstream Church' has a deep and abiding reverence for written testimony. That goes back to the original Adams and Eves who wrote The Testimonies, I suppose. And, of course, four hundred years ago, there were far fewer literate Safeholdians than there are today."

Merlin nodded again. The Church of God Awaiting's historical and doctrinal experience included none of the textual disputes of terrestrial tradition. The documents which composed the Church's official canon had been defined by the archangels themselves, not by any potentially fallible councils of humans, which automatically placed them beyond any possibility of dispute. And there was no tradition of "false gospels" or other fraudulent documents deliberately constructed to discredit the Church's faith in its formative period. There'd been no "formative period," and any attempt to produce such "false gospels" would have been buried without a trace under the writings of eight million literate colonists. As a consequence, Safehold approached the historicity of the Church with a completely different mindset from that of terrestrial theologians. Every scrap of history only proved the accuracy of the Church's traditions, and so became one more pillar of support, not a seedbed of skepticism.

Of course, that could change, couldn't it? As the decades in centuries passed in a society deliberately locked into muscle and wind power, with all of the hard labor required to support such a society, that universal literacy had disappeared. By and large-there had been exceptions, especially in the Church-only the upper classes had retained the leisure time to become literate. And as the ability to read and write had become less and less common, the reverence of the common (and illiterate) man and woman for the written records whose mysteries they could not penetrate had become paradoxically greater and greater.

And that must have suited the Council of Vicars just fine, he thought grimly. In fact, "Mother Church" may well have encouraged the trend, since the illiterate members of the Church became completely dependent upon their hierarchy to instruct them about the contents of those mysterious books they could no longer read for themselves. And that, in turn, became one more tool for strangling independence of thought in its cradle. On the other hand, the fact that literacy's been on the upswing again for a century or so is one of the reasons the wheels are threatening to come off their neat little mind-control machine, isn't it?

"Despite the temptation to simply destroy the journal and other documents, he chose not to," Staynair said. "It must have been an incredibly difficult decision for him. But in addition to the journal itself he had the letter Saint Zherneau had left for whoever finally unsealed the vault. And, of course, he had ample historical evidence to support the fact that Saint Zherneau had indeed, been an Adam himself That Saint Evahlyn had been an Eve. That' coupled with all of the public writings the two of them had left-including sections in The Testimonies-was enough to stop him from simply labeling the journal the ravings of a mad heretic. And the fact that he knew the books included with the journal had been sealed in the same vault for the better part of four hundred years proved they, too, must date from the Creation itself or immediately after it.

"Or, of course"-the archbishop's eyes bored into Merlin's-"from before it."

Merlin nodded once again. Personally, despite all of the Church's traditional reverence for history and historical documents, he suspected Staynair was probably understating even now the incredible depth of the spiritual struggle that long-ago Abbot of Saint Zherneau's must have faced. The degree of intellectual integrity it must have taken to make-and accept-the connections Staynair had just summarized so concisely in the face of every single word of the Church's official doctrine was difficult even to imagine.