Father Al stared at the salt-cellar. "But-thou didst just say the trait was s.e.x-linked!"

"Aye; yet my sister is telekinetic, and we are both tele-paths; so I have begun to attempt to draw on her powers, with the results thou dost see." Brother Mordecai speared a slab of meat as Brother Bertram drifted past him. "She, too, doth make the attempt, and doth draw on mine ability. To date, she hath managed to levitate three centimeters, when she doth lie supine."

Father Cotterson nodded, with pursed lips. "I had not known she had made so much progress."

"But...but... "Father Al managed to get his tongue working again. "Is there no danger that she will learn of the technology thou dost so wish to keep hidden?".

"Nay." Brother Mordecai smiled. "She is of our sister Order."

"The Anodeans?"

Father Cotterson nodded, smiling. "It doth warm my heart, Father, to learn that our Orders are maintained still, on other worlds."

"Yet 'tis indeed a problem of security," another monk volunteered. "Our old disciplines seem to wear thin, Father Cotterson, in the closing of our minds to the espers without our Order."

Father Cotterson stiffened. "Hath one of the King's 'witch-folk' learned of technology from our minds, Father Ignatius?"

"I think not," the monk answered. "Yet, the whiles I did meditate on mine electrolyte vies an hour agone, I did sense an echo, an harmonic to my thoughts. I did, of course, listen, and sensed the mind of a babe in resonance with mine. So 'tis not an immediate threat; yet the child will, a.s.suredly, grow."

"Might not his parents have been listening to his thoughts!"

"Nay; I sensed no further resonance. And yet I think it matters little; the babe's mind held an image of his mother, and 'twas the High Warlock's wife."

Father Cotterson relaxed. "Aye, 'tis small danger there; Lady Gallowgla.s.s cannot have escaped learning something of technology, and must a.s.suredly comprehend the need of silence on the issue."

"I take it, then, thou hast found ways of shielding thy minds from other telepaths?" Father Al burst in.

"Indeed." Father Cotterson nodded. " 'Tis linked with the meditation of prayer, Father, in which the mind is closed to the outside world, but opened toward G.o.d. Yet it doth seem we'll have to seek new ways to strengthen such closure. Brother Milaine, thou'It attend to it?"

A portly monk nodded. "a.s.suredly, Father."

"Research is, of course, common amongst we who are cloistered within this monastery," Father Cotterson explained.

Father Al nodded. " Twould not be a House of St. Vidi-con, otherwise. Yet I a.s.sume such activity is forbidden to thy parish priests."

"Nay; 'tis more simply done." Father Cotterson started cutting his ounce of meat. "Monks trained for the parishes are taught only their letters and numbers, and theology; only those who take monastic vows are trained in science and technology."

"A practical system," Father Al admitted, "though I mislike secrecy of knowledge."

"So do we, Father." Father Cotterson's eyes burned into his. "Knowledge ought to be free, that all might learn it. Yet 'twas only through subterfuge that Father Ricci, the founder of our Chapter, did manage to retain knowledge of science when he did come to Gramarye; and a.s.suredly, he'd have been burned for a witch had he attempted to teach what he knew. Those who originally did colonize this planet were intent on forgetting all knowledge of science. We'd likely suffer burning ourselves, if we did attempt to disclose what we know- and 'twould throw the land into chaos. The beginnings of science did batten the turmoil of Europe's Renaissance, on Terra; what would knowledge of modern technology and science do to this medieval culture? Nay, we must keep our knowledge secret yet awhile."

"Still, the High Warlock may ope' us a path for the beginnings of teaching it,"

Father Ignatius offered.

"Indeed he may." Father Cotterson's eyes gleamed with missionary zeal.

"Saint Vidicon," Father Al murmured, " was a teacher."

"As are we all-are we not?" Father Cotterson fairly beamed at him. "Are we not? For how can we gain new knowledge, and not wish immediately to share it with others?"

This, Father Al decided, was the kind of fanaticism he could agree with.

Father Cotterson turned back to his monks. "Apropos of which, Brother Feldspar, how doth thy researches?"Brother Feldspar chewed his meat thoughtfully. "Dost thou not wish more salt on this fowl, Father?"

"Indeed I do, but..."

The salt-cellar appeared in front of Father Cotterson with a whoosh of displaced

air.

He sat back sharply, eyes wide, startled.

The company burst into laughter.

After a second, Father Cotterson relaxed and guffawed with them. "A most excellent jest, Brother Feldspar! Yet I must caution thee against thy proclivity for practical jokes."

"Yet without it, Father, how would I ever have begun to seek methods of teleporting objects other than myself?"

"Truth," Father Cotterson admitted. "Yet I think thou didst make intermediate bits of progress in thine experiments that thou didst not inform us of. Beware, Brother; we might credit someone else with thy results! For a moment, I thought Brother Chronopolis had made progress."

"Sadly, no, Father," Brother Chronopolis smiled. "The theory is sound, and I do think we could manufacture a quantum black hole-but we fear to do it on a planet's surface."

Father Al tried not to stare.

"Indeed," Father Cotterson commiserated. "I shudder to think of the effects of so steep a gravity-gradient, Brother; and I've no wish to find myself atop a sudden new volcano! Nay, I fear the experiment will have to wait till we've access to s.p.a.ce flight."

Brother Chronopolis turned to Father Al. "Father, when thou dost depart Gramarye..."

"Well, I could not perform the experiment myself." Father Al smiled. "I do be an anthropologist, not a physicist. Yet where I can provide aid, I will rejoice to do so."

"The rest is for the Abbot to consider," Father Cotterson said firmly.

Manufacture quantum black holes? The DDT's best scientists still thought they couldn't exist! Either the Gramarye monks were very mistaken-or very advanced. There was a way to find out... Father Al said casually, "Hast thou made progress in molecular circuitry?"

The whole room was silent in an instant; every eye was fastened to him. "Nay," breathed Brother Chronopolis, "canst thou make a circuit of a molecule?"

Well. They were very far behind, in some things. "Not I, myself. Yet I do know that 'tis done; they do fashion single crystalline molecules that can perform all the functions of..." What was that ancient term? Oh, yes... "...an whole integrated-circuit chip."

"But thou knowest not the fashion of it?"

"I fear I do not."

" Tis enough, 'tis enough." Brother Feldspar held up a quieting palm. "We know it can be done, now; 'twill not be long ere we do it."

Somehow, Father Al didn't doubt that for a minute.

"A most excellent evening, indeed," Father Cotterson sighed as he opened the oaken door and ushered Father Al in. "Thy presence did stimulate discussion wonderfully, Father."

" 'Twas fascinating, Father-especially that account of the nun who doth surgery without opening the body."

"Well, 'tis only the mending of burst blood vessels, and the ma.s.saging of hearts thus far," Father Cotterson reminded him. "Yet it doth hold great promise. I trust this cell will be to thy satisfaction, Father."

"Luxurious," Father Al breathed, looking around at the nine-by-twelve room with bare plaster walls, a straw mattress on an oaken cot-frame, a wash-stand and a writing-desk with athree-legged stool. "True woodis luxury indeed, Father!"

"To us, 'tis the least expensive material," Father Cotterson said with a smile. "I'll leave thee to thy devotions, then, Father."

"G.o.d be with thee this night, Father," Father Al returned, with a warm smile, as Father Cotterson closed the door.

Then Father Al darted over to it, carefully pressing his ear against the wood. Faintly, he heard a key turn in a lock-and all his earlier forebodings came flooding back. Disappointment stabbed him; he'd found himself liking the monks' company so well that he'd hoped his suspicions were unfounded, then had become almost certain it was only his own paranoia.

Not that locking him in his cell proved they intended to imprison him, and not let him see the rest of Gramarye. In fact, the Abbot might be delighted to have him visit Rod Gallowgla.s.s.

But he also might not.

So Father Al charitably decided to avoid putting him to the test. Accordingly, he waited two hours, after which all the Brothers must certainly have been snoring on their cots. Then he took out his vest-pocket tool-kit, picked the huge old lock, and slipped down darkened hallways, as silently as a prayer. He drifted through the colonnade like a wraith of incense, found a ladder and a rope, and slipped silently over the wall.

They were such wonderful monks. It was so much better to remove temptation from their path.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

"All sleep, except Elidor," Magnus said, glowering.

He sat on the edge of a ma.s.sive four-poster bed opposite a fireplace as tall as Rod. Tapestries covered cold stone walls; Rod paced on a thick carpet.

"He was..." Cordelia burst out; but Gwen clapped a hand over her mouth, and stared at Magnus. He looked up at her, surprised, then nodded quickly, and closed his eyes, sitting very straight. He held it for a few minutes, then relaxed. "I'm sorry, Mama; I was carried away."

"No great harm is done," Gwen a.s.sured him. "They heard only that one sentence, and they cannot do so much with that."

"Spies?" Rod frowned. "How many of them were there?"

"Only the two," Gwen a.s.sured him. "One there, behind the knight on the tapestry o'er the hearth-thou seest that his eye is truly a hole? And one behind the panel next the door, where there's a knot dropped out."

Rod nodded. "Milord Foidin likes back-up systems-no doubt so he can check them against each other, and make sure no one's lying. Well, it kinda goes along with the rest of his devious personality; I think he's in the process of inventing the police state." He turned to Magnus. "How long are they out for?"

"Till dawn," Magnus a.s.sured him, "or after."

Rod shook his head in amazement. "How does he do it so fast?"

Gwen shook her head, too. "I know not how he doth it at all."

"Oh, that's easy! It's just projective telepathy. You just think 'sleep' at 'em, right, son?"

"Not really, Papa." Magnus frowned. "I just want them to sleep."

Rod shook his head again. "You must 'want' awfully loudly... Well! Can you tell what Duke Foidin's thinking?"

"I shall!" Cordelia said promptly.

"No, thou shalt not!" Gwen pressed her hands over her daughter's ears. "Thou shalt not soil so young a mind as thine; that man hath filth and muck beneath the surface of his thinking that he doth attempt to hold back, but ever fails!"

"Oh." Rod raised his eyebrows. "You've had a sample already?"

"Aye, of the things he doth yearn to do to the folk in his part of Tir Chlis, but doth never, out of cowardice, and, be it said to his slight credit, some lingering trace of scruple. This I read in him, whilst he did speak of Lord Kern's 'foul rule!' "

Rod nodded. "If you could get him talking about one thing, all the related thoughts came to his mind, just below the surface."

"Thou hast learned the fashion of it well, mine husband. Almost could I believe thou hast practiced it thyself!"

"No, worse luck-but I've learned a lot about the human mind, from books." He surveyed his children. "I hope none of you were peeking into the Duke's mind."

All three shook their heads. "Mama forbade us," Magnus explained.

"One of those little telepathic commands that I couldn't hear." Rod sighed philosophically. "Speaking of things I can't hear, what's the Duke doing right now?"

Gwen's eyes lost focus. "Speaking to Elidor..."Her voice suddenly dropped in pitch, in a parody of the Duke's. "I was so very glad to find thee well, unharmed -believe, 'tis true!" Her voice rose, imitating Elidor's. **f do believe it, Uncle."

"Then believe it, also, when I tell thee that thou must not wander off again, alone! 'Tis too dangerous for an unfledged lad! There be a thousand perils in this world, awaiting thee! I own I have been harsh with thee, from time to time-yet only when thou hast tried mine patience overly, and ever have I repented of mine anger after! Stay, good lad, and I'll promise thee, I'll try to be more moderate."

Very low: "I'll bide, good Uncle."

"Wilt thou! There's a good lad! Be sure, 'tis chiefly my concern for thee that moves me to this protest! Oh, I will not hide from thee my hatred for Lord Kern, nor have I ever sought to hide it-or my abiding fear that he may somehow seize thee from me, and use thee to gain power over me! For thou dost like him more than me, now dost thou not?... Dost thou not!... Answer!"

"He and his wife were kindly," Elidor muttered.

"And was I not? Have I never treated thee with kindness? Nay, answer not-I see it in thine eyes. Thou dost remember only cuffs and blows, and never all the sweetmeats I did bring thee, nor the games that we did play! Nay, thou didst not wander off for mere adventure this day, didst thou? Thou didst seek to join Lord Kern! Didst thou not? Now answer to me!... What, wilt thou not?" Gwen's whole body shook; she shuddered, and her eyes focused on Rod again. Trembling, she said, "He doth beat the lad. Most shrewdly."

Rod's face darkened. "The animal!...No, son!" He clamped a hand on Magnus's shoulder; the boy's body jolted, his eyes focussing again. "You can't just teleport him away from the Duke; you'd raise a hue and cry that'd keep us penned in this castle for days. Poor Elidor'll have to last it out until we can find a way to free him."

"He did not seem so bad a man, when first we met him," Cordelia said, troubled.

"He probably wouldn't be, if he weren't a Duke, and a regent." Rod ran his fingers through his hair. "A burgher, say, where he could split the responsibility with a committee-or a clerk in an office. Without the pressure, his kind side'd be able to come through. But in the top position, he knows down deep that he can't really handle the job, and it scares him."