"Forgive me, Your Eminence," he said slowly, "and please, don't take this as any sort of attack. But with this journal, and the other documents in your possession, you've known all along that the Church's entire doctrine, all of its theology and teachings, are built upon a monstrous lie. Yet not only did you never denounce the lie, but you've actually supported it."

"You would have made a splendid Inquisitor yourself, Merlin," Staynair said, his smile more crooked than ever. "I mean an Inquisitor of Father Paityr's sort, not that pig Clyntahn's, of course."

"In what way, Your Eminence?"

"You understand how to direct questions that force a man to look straightly at what he truly believes, not simply what he's convinced himself he believes.

"In answer to your perfectly valid question, however, we must plead guilty, but with extenuating circumstances. As, I feel quite confident, you already understood before you asked.

"Had we openly opposed Church doctrine, proclaimed that every word of the Holy Writ was a lie, we would merely have provoked the destruction of Charis centuries earlier. Perhaps the Inquisition might have settled for simply exterminating those who brought the disturbing message, but I think not. I think too much of Langhorne's and Schueler's intolerance and . . . thoroughness clings to the Inquisition even today." The archbishop shook his head. "I've read Saint Zherneau's account of what truly happened in the destruction of the Alexandria enclave, what truly happened on the dreadful night when it was transformed into Armageddon Reef I do not have the background to understand how simply dropping rocks could have had the effect Saint Zherneau describes, but I fully accept the accuracy of his testimony. And if the Inquisition of today lacks the Rakurai, the Group of Four has just demonstrated that it continues to command swords in plenty.

"So, since we dared not openly oppose the Church's lies lest we achieve nothing but the destruction of the only evidence that they were lies, the Brethren of Saint Zherneau-those of the Brethren who knew the truth, at least-dedicated themselves to gradually building a different sort of Church here in Charis. Even that much constituted a deadly risk. We recognized that, eventually, the Inquisition would undoubtedly react as, in fact, Clyntahn has reacted. We'd hoped it wouldn't be this soon, and it probably wouldn't have been if Clyntahn hadn't become Grand Inquisitor. Yet he did, and we'd already pushed too far, made too many changes of which Mother Church disapproved. The truth of the matter is, Merlin, that Clyntahn has been right all along about the danger Charis poses to his precious orthodoxy. I rather doubt he's felt that way on the basis of any reasoned consideration of the evidence, but his instincts have not played him false where we are concerned."

"How much of this did Haarahld know?" Merlin asked quietly.

"All of it," Staynair replied simply. "He read the entire journal, read the history of the Federation. As for all of us, there was much in that history which he didn't understand, for which he had no context. But, also as for all of us, he understood enough. When you asked him why his grandfather had abolished serfdom here in Charis, he answered you honestly, Merlin. But he could have added that one of the reasons his grandfather believed all men were created equal was that he, too, had read every magnificent word of the Declaration."

"And Cayleb?" Merlin asked the question even more quietly, and Staynair frowned gravely.

"And Cayleb," he replied, "is one of the reasons you and I are having this conversation at this particular time."

"At this time?"

"Yes. One reason is that we are rapidly approaching God's Day, and it seemed . . . appropriate for you to be told the truth before that."

Merlin nodded once more. God's Day, which was inserted into the middle of the month of July each year, was the Church of God Awaiting's equivalent of Christmas and Easter, rolled into one. It was the highest and most holy religious festival of the year, and given what the Brethren of Saint Zherneau knew about the religion they'd dared not openly denounce for so long, he could see why Staynair would have wanted to have this conversation before he had to celebrate God's Day in Tellesberg Cathedral as Archbishop of Charis for the first time. Still- "I can understand that, I suppose, Your Eminence. But what, exactly, does Cayleb have to do with your timing for this little revelation?"

"Ever since the vault was unsealed, there have been strenuous rules governing when and how its contents were to be made known to others. One of those rules has been that before anyone could be admitted to the truth, he must have attained the age of wisdom. Which, simply because some firm definition of when that could be presumed to have occurred was necessary, was set at the age of thirty. Another rule is that all those already privy to the truth must agree before anyone else is admitted to it, and not everyone nominated for the truth is actually told in the end. Two of the last eight monarchs of Charis were never informed, for example, because the Brethren of their time believed telling them would have constituted too great a risk. And"- Staynair's eyes turned even graver-"in both cases, their own fathers agreed with the majority of the Brethren."

"But surely that's not the case with Cayleb," Merlin objected.

"Of course not. We've always-Haarahld always-intended to inform him of the truth as soon as he reached the age of thirty. Unfortunately, the Group of Four refused to wait long enough for that. Now we have a King whose determination, courage, and wit we all trust implicitly, but who's too young, under the Brethren's rules, to be informed. And, to be perfectly honest, there are some among us who fear his youth and . . . directness. His impetuosity, perhaps. One thing young Cayleb has never been is hesitant about speaking his mind or confronting an enemy. The fear isn't that he would reject the journal's contents, but rather that if he learns the full truth, if he's shown the proof that for almost a thousand years the Church has controlled all of Safehold through the greatest lie in human history, he'll be unable to resist throwing that charge against the Group of Four, as well. And that, Merlin, is something we cannot do. Not yet.

"Schism within the Church we can contemplate, especially so long as that schism is couched in terms of reforming corruption, decadence, and abuses. But outright heresy-true heresy, easily provable by reference to the Holy Writ and The Testimonies-would put far too potent a weapon into Clyntahn's hands. The day is coming-will come-when that 'heresy' will be openly proclaimed. The Brethren of Saint Zherneau have labored to bring that day for four centuries. But for now, we must keep this a war over the Church's abuses. Over spiritual issues, yes, but spiritual issues secular rulers can grasp in secular terms, not over deeply divisive points of doctrine and theology."

Merlin unsteepled his fingers and leaned forward in his chair, his expression intent.

"Your Eminence, since you and Abbot Byrkyt have shown me these documents, informed me of their existence, I must assume the other Brethren who know the full truth approved your decision to do so."

His tone and raised eyebrow made the statement a question, and Staynair nodded.

"They have. In no small part, because we want your judgment as to whether or not Cayleb should be told. I believe he should, as do most, though not all, of the others, and all of us realize that at this moment, you're undoubtedly closer to him than any other living man. But I must confess that there's also another reason. Something which was contained in Saint Zherneau's letter, not his journal."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Staynair reached into an inner pocket of his cassock and removed a folded sheet of paper. "This is a copy of that section," he said softly, and handed it across the desk.

Merlin took it just a bit gingerly, unfolded it, and found a passage copied in Staynair's own hand.

"We, and the other Adams and Eves Dr. Pei reeducated to know the truth, were to be what she called her 'insurance policy' " he read. "We were to be the seed, if you will, of a movement among the colonists and children of the colonists if, as she feared, Langhorne, Bedard, and Schueler moved openly against Alexandria. But she had less time than she had hoped, and there were not enough of us when they destroyed Alexandria and murdered her and all of our friends. Yet it is evident that Langhorne and most of his inner circle must also have been killed. Our best guess, especially given the changes in the Holy Writ, is that Commodore Pei must have managed to conceal a vest-pocket nuke and used it. I have often thought, over the years, that the confusion that must have engendered in the 'archangels" leadership- and, quite possibly, the destruction of much of the colony administration's records-explains how we have been able to pass unnoticed out here in this distant corner of Safehold.

"But we do not know where else Dr. Pei may have placed others like us. We were never told, for obvious reasons. We do know she intended to place others here with us in Tellesberg, but there was never time, and now she never will.

"Yet know this, whoever you may be who finally reads these words. We were but one string to Dr. Pei's bow of truth. There is another. I know but little about that second string, and even that I know mostly by accident. It was never Dr. Pei's intention for us to learn about it at all-again, for obvious reasons. But I know this much. She and Commodore Pei have made other preparations, other plans, as well as this one. I will not write even the small amount I do know, lest this letter fall into the Inquisition's hands. Yet you must always remember that second string. The day will come when it sends forth its arrow, and you must recognize it when it flies. Trust it. It springs from fidelity you cannot even imagine, from a sacrifice deeper than space itself I believe you will know it if-when-you see it, and this is the test: Nimue."

A PICA had no circulatory system, but deep pain stabbed through Merlin's nonexistent heart as he read that final sentence. He looked down at it for endless seconds. It was almost as if he could hear Pei Shan-wei's voice one final time through the words written by a man seven hundred and fifty years dust.

Finally, he looked up again, and Staynair looked deep into his sapphire PICA's eyes.

"Tell me, Merlin," he said, very, very softly, "are you Shan-wei's second arrow?"

"What's this all about?" King Cayleb asked, ignoring the throne on its raised dais as he stood with his back to the small presence chamber's window. He looked back and forth between Archbishop Maikel and Merlin, his eyebrows raised, and Merlin smiled crookedly.

"You may recall, Your Majesty," he said, "that I once told you that when I could explain a certain subject more fully, I would."

Cayleb's eyes widened suddenly. Then they darted to Staynair's face. He half raised one hand, but Merlin shook his head.

"It's all right, Cayleb," he said. "It turns out Archbishop Maikel-and, for that matter, your father-had a somewhat better idea of who I am than I'd realized."

"They did?" Cayleb's expression was suddenly very intent, and the gaze he turned upon Staynair was intensely speculative.

"Oh, I think you might say that." Merlin's smile turned more crooked than ever. "You see, Cayleb, it's like this . . ."

.VII.

King Cayleb's Private Dining Salon,

Royal Palace,

City of Tellesberg,

Kingdom of Charis

May I refill your glass, Maikel?" King Cayleb asked late that evening, still holding the bottle of wine from which he had just refilled his own glass.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Please." The archbishop extended his glass and smiled almost mischievously. "At least one good thing's come out of Corisande," he remarked, looking at the label on the bottle.

"Something good has to come out of almost anywhere," Cayleb replied as he filled the glass. He seemed totally focused on the minor task, as if he found its mundaneness reassuring. Or perhaps distracting.

He finished, set the bottle back on the table, and sat back in his chair.

Officially, this was simply a private supper with his archbishop, at Maikel's request. With Gray Harbor out of the kingdom, and Staynair acting as first councilor in his place, there had been several such suppers. At which, of course, Captain Athrawes had always been the king's chosen bodyguard. That precedent had come in handy tonight.

"All right," he said quietly. "I've had at least a few hours to think over what the two of you have told me. I have to admit that it. . . hurts a little bit to discover there was a secret this profound that Father never shared with me, but I understand why he wasn't free to make that decision by himself."

"Cayleb"-Staynair's voice was equally quiet-"it was never a matter of trust or distrust. It was only a matter of the procedures which had been set up four hundred years ago. Procedures which have served the Brethren of Saint Zherneau-and, I think, the entire Kingdom-well."

"I said I understand, Maikel." Cayleb met the archbishop's eyes with a steady, level gaze. "And I think the real reason it hurts is that Father never had a chance to tell me the secret on my thirtieth birthday, after all."

"I wish he had had that opportunity," Merlin said softly, contemplating his own wineglass, watching the ruby light pool at its heart. "Your father was one of the finest men I've ever known, Cayleb. In fact, he was an even better man than I ever would have realized without the Archbishop's little revelation."

"Ah, yes. His 'revelation.' An excellent word for it, Merlin. Almost"- Cayleb switched that level gaze to Merlin-"as astonishing a revelation as your own."

"Well," Merlin's smile was lopsided, "I did tell you I'd explain everything if the day ever came when I could."

"Which, in this case," Cayleb said rather pointedly, "was more a case of the day when you had to, wouldn't you say?"

"Fair enough." Merlin nodded. "On the other hand, there's also this. With Archbishop Maikel and the journal of Saint Zherneau to vouch for me, I figured you were a lot less likely to decide I was a lunatic. Or that you'd been wrong to trust me, after all."

"There is that," Cayleb agreed, and folded his arms across his chest. The intensity of his gaze faded into something else, a look of wonder, almost reverence, with what might have been still just a lingering trace of fear. Or, at least, apprehension.

"I can hardly believe it even now," he said slowly, contemplating Merlin from head to toe." To be honest, I don't know which . . . confuses me more- the fact that you're dead, or the fact that you're a woman."

"In point of fact," Staynair said mildly, "I'm not at all certain Merlin-or Nimue-is dead."

"Oh, trust me, Your Eminence," Merlin said in a tone that blended wryness with a lingering, aching grief, "Nimue Alban is dead. Has been, for over nine hundred of your years. As dead as all of her friends . . . and as dead as the Terran Federation."

"I've tried to visualize what you must have seen, experienced." Staynair shook his head. "I can't, of course. I don't suppose anyone could."

"In some ways, it's not that different from what you and Cayleb-and King Haarahld, of course-have faced right here in Charis," Merlin pointed out. "If we lose, everything that matters to you will be destroyed. Although mind you, I'm hoping for a rather happier outcome this time around."

"As are we all," Staynair said dryly.

"Well, of course we are," Cayleb said, still gazing at Merlin with those perplexed and wondering eyes. "I have to say, though, Merlin, that however hard I try, I just can't visualize you as a woman."

"Which speaks well of my chosen disguise," Merlin said, then surprised himself with a chuckle. "On the other hand, that first rugby game you and Ahrnahld got me involved in was almost my undoing."

"What?" Cayleb's eyebrows knitted. "What are you talking about?"

"Cayleb," Merlin said patiently, "think about it. A PICA is fully functional, and I do mean fully functional. It can do anything, mimic any response, an organic human body can do . . . and I spent twenty-seven years-almost thirty of your years-being a woman. Trust me. There are some things that just don't change all that easily. Finding myself in the water, naked as the day I was born, and surrounded by all of those nice, equally naked, muscular, slithery male bodies . . . I discovered that there's this physical response men have. I'd always realized, in an intellectual sort of way, that it happened, of course, but I'd never expected to experience it, you might say."

Cayleb stared at him for a moment, and then he began to laugh. It started out quietly, but it didn't stay that way, and there was something deeply cleansing about the hilarity. Something that chased that lingering trace of fear-if that was what it had been-out of his eyes forever.

"Oh, my God!" he managed to gasp between roars of laughter. "That was why you stayed in the water! Why you were so damned careful about that towel!"

"Yes, it was," Merlin agreed rather repressively. "There've been other adjustments, but I have to admit that that one's probably been the most. . . interesting."

Staynair had begun chuckling himself as he realized what Merlin and Cayleb were talking about. Now he shook his head.

"Merlin," he said, still smiling, "somehow I don't think a dead woman-or a ghost-would have a sense of humor."

"I'm not so sure about that, Your Eminence."

"Then let me pose it this way. What constitutes being 'alive' for a human being?"

"I suspect most people would think breathing was a reasonably important criterion."

"Perhaps 'most people' would, but I'm not asking them. I'm asking you."

"I truly don't know," Merlin admitted. He looked back down into his wineglass. "Maybe it's because I've worried about it so much, chewed the problem up one side and down the other so often that I can't stand back and think about it with any sort of detachment. I've just decided that even if I'm not-alive, I mean-I might as well act as if I were. Too many people made too many sacrifices to put me here on this world, at this particular time, for me to do anything else."

"And that's why I'm certain you are alive, Merlin. Nimue Alban," Staynair said softly. "You were one of the ones who made those sacrifices. And you haven't done what you've already done here on Safehold out of some lingering sense of responsibility to people who have been dead for almost a thousand years. Oh, those people are important to you, and I understand that for you it hasn't been a thousand years since they died, either. But as Haarahld once told you, a man must be judged by his actions. And for all the lies heaped together in the Writ, there are truths, as well. Including the truth that a man's innermost nature will inevitably be known and revealed by his deeds.

"You've shouldered your burden out of personal outrage, Merlin Athrawes. I haven't watched you, talked to you, learned from you for two years now without taking the measure of the man-or the woman-you truly are. You feel the pain which is so much a part of life, just as you feel the joys. I've always thought you were a profoundly lonely man, and now I know why. But I have never, for one moment, doubted that you were a good man, and despite what those fools in Zion believe, God is a god of love, Merlin, not a god of savage discipline and mindless rejection. His way may be hard sometimes, and He may demand much from some of His servants, but whatever else He may be, He isn't stupid. He knows what He's asked of people like you, over the ages. And whether you realize it or not, God knows you as one of His own, as well. I have no doubt that when Nimue Alban's physical body died, God had another task, another duty, waiting for her. There are too few great souls for Him to waste one which burned that brightly. And so, He let that soul sleep until the day a machine, a . . . PICA awoke in a cave here on Safehold. You have Nimue Alban's soul, Merlin Athrawes. Never doubt it. Never question it. . . or yourself."

Merlin looked at the archbishop for endless seconds. And then, finally, he nodded once. He didn't say a single word. He didn't have to.

The others let his silence linger for a time. Then Cayleb cleared his throat.

"For what it's worth, Merlin, I agree with Maikel. Maybe it's just as well-no, it is just as well-you didn't try to explain all of that to me aboard Dreadnought before Darcos Sound. But it's like I told you that day in King's Harbor, when you killed the krakens. You may be able to conceal what you are, but you can't hide who you are, what you feel. I'm sorry, but you're just not very good at it."

"Gosh, thanks," Merlin said wryly.

"Don't mention it." Cayleb grinned at him. "On the other hand, it's going to be quite some time, I imagine, before I really manage to come to grips with all of this. It's going to change a lot of my assumptions."

"I'm sure it is," Merlin acknowledged. "Still, it's not really going to change most of the constraints we face. There's still that kinetic bombardment system, floating up there in orbit. And there are still those power sources under the Temple I haven't been able to identify. Between the two of them, I think they constitute a damned good argument in favor of maintaining the secret just the way the Brethren have been maintaining it for the last four centuries. I, for one, have absolutely no desire to turn Charis into a second Armageddon Reef"

"Granted." Cayleb nodded. "But from what you've said, there's an enormous number of things you can teach us, show us."

"Yes and no." Merlin took another sip of wine, then set his glass aside and leaned forward in his chair, resting his folded forearms on the table.

"I can teach you, but I can't just hand you the knowledge. For a lot of reasons, including concealment from the Church and whatever remote sensors might be reporting to those power sources under the Temple. But even if I wasn't worried about that particular aspect of it, I couldn't just replace the Church as the source of all authority. People all over Safehold have to learn to do what you already do here in Charis, Cayleb. They have to learn to think. To reject the automatic acceptance of dogma and restrictions simply because someone else-whether it's the Church of God Awaiting or some all-knowing oracle from the lost past-tells them they must accept them. We have to transform Safehold into a world of people who want to understand the physical universe around them. People who are comfortable innovating, thinking of new ways to do new things on their own. That's one reason-the main reason, in a lot of ways-I've made suggestions, pointed out possibilities, and then stood back and let people like Baron Seamount, Ehdwyrd Howsmyn, and Rhaiyan Mychail figure out how to apply them.