"Very well, then. Let's take care of certain formalities before we go any further. May I use your table, Divinity?" he asked Dweia.

"Of course, Exarch Emdahl," she replied.

The harsh-faced Emdahl seated himself at, the marble table and pulled up his hood. "Would you be so good as to present the charges to the court, Yeudon?"

"That's not the way it's done," Aleikon protested.

"That depends entirely on who's running things, Aleikon," Emdahl said. "Brother Bheid's a Black Robe, and that puts him under my jurisdiction. The trial-and the final judgment-is in my hands. The court will hear the charges, Exarch Yeudon."

Yeudon rose to his feet, also pulling up his hood. "The prisoner is charged with murder, Holy Emdahl," he intoned, "and freely has he confessed to this crime."

"How says the prisoner?" Emdahl demanded sternly. "Quickly, quickly, Bheid. It's almost suppertime."

"I am guilty, my Exarch," Bheid answered in a broken voice, "for I deliberately killed the man called Yakhag."

"And will you submit to the judgment of this court?"

"In all things, my Exarch," Bheid agreed.

"The prisoner will kneel to hear the judgment of the court," Emdahl announced sternly.

Trembling, Bheid sank to his knees.

Emdahl absently placed his hand on the Book. "The prisoner stands convicted of the crime of murder," he announced in a formal tone. "Has the prisoner anything to say before the court passes judgment?"

"I . . ." Bheid faltered.

Emdahl cut him off. "I didn't think so. It is the judgment of this court that you shall serve out the remainder of your life at hard labor, and, moreover, the labor which you shall undertake shall be to serve as the Exarch of the Grey Robe order-and may the Gods have mercy on your miserable soul."

"But-"

"Shut up, Bheid," Emdahl snapped. "Now get on your feet and go to work."

"That was slick, Emdahl," Althalus complimented the Black Robe Exarch as they followed the others downstairs to supper.

"I'm glad you liked it." Emdahl smirked. "I can't take all the credit, though. Expiation through hard labor was Yeudon's idea in the first-place. I'm surprised you didn't think of it yourself."

"I don't look at the world in quite the same way you priests do," Althalus replied. "I'm a professional criminal, so I don't get very worked up about my assorted sins. Yakhag needed killing, but I couldn't quite get that across to Bheid. I had a certain amount of success by slamming him against a wall, though."

"Interesting variation," Emdahl noted. "Bheid was suffering from his sense of guilt. We needed him in a certain position, so all I did was define that position as a punishment. He wanted to be punished, so now we're both getting exactly what we want."

"And I'm getting what I want as well."

"That went by a little fast."

"Bheid's sense of his guilt was separating him from Leitha, and that was starting to make her come unraveled."

"The witch? I didn't think anything could bother that one. She's made of steel, isn't she?"

"Not really, Emdahl. She's very fragile, and she needs love. She's chosen me to be her father. Me, of all people."

"She could do worse," Emdahl noted. "You've got more than your share of faults, Althalus, but you do love everybody in your little group of followers. With a little training, you'd make a good priest-of course that's what you really are, isn't it? You're the Exarch of the Church of Dweia, aren't you?"

"We aren't quite that formal, Emdahl. Emmy's a lot more relaxed than her brothers are. As long as we love her, she's perfectly happy. She even purrs.

"Purrs?"

"It'd take much too long to explain," Althalus told him.

"It's probably the best we can do on such short notice, Bheid," Emdahl said when they'd all returned to the temple at Maghu a few days later. "Aleikon wasn't very happy about it, but we all finally agreed that our orders were going to have to give the Grey Robes a free hand. Your order won't be very large. That vow of poverty makes most priests start to choke, so you won't have very many voluntary followers at first."

"There'll be some, though, who'll be involuntary," Yeudon added drily.

"No," Bheid declared adamantly. "You gentlemen aren't going to use the Grey Robes as a garbage heap for your undesirables."

"Now, wait a minute, Exarch Bheid," Aleikon said. "Your order's less than a week old. You're definitely subordinate to the three of us."

"Then we can just forget the whole idea," Bheid said, his face hardening. "If all you three are trying to do is throw a sop to the commoners to quiet the current unrest, I'll have no part in it. Something along those lines would just be a perpetuation of the blunder that opened the door to Argan in the first place. Can't you see that?"

"He's got a point there," Emdahl conceded grudgingly. Then he shook his head and made a wry face. "I think I may have let one of the good ones get away. If I'd been paying attention the way I'm supposed to, I could have groomed Brother Bheid to be my successor."

"Not if I'd seen him first, Emdahl," Yeudon disagreed.

"Emmy wants to talk with you, Althalus," Eliar said quietly as they were all leaving Exarch Aleikon's ornate office.

"Oh? Am I in trouble again?"

"She didn't say. I don't think so, though. Why don't we use the door to your room? I'll stand guard outside."

"All right."

They went along the corridor of the temple where the quarters Exarch Aleikon had provided them were located, and Eliar opened the door to the room assigned to Althalus. Just beyond that door were the familiar stairs.

Dweia was waiting in the tower room when Althalus came up the steps. She held her arms out to him, and they wordlessly embraced. "Is something amiss, Em?" he asked her.

"No, actually things are going rather well. Bheid's turning out even better than I'd expected. That's something I wanted to explain to you. I think it's important for you to know what's really happening."

"I thought it was fairly obvious, Em."

"Not entirely, pet. The words on the Knife are just a bit more complex than they appear on the surface. What did it tell you to do?"

"Seek. Didn't that mean that I was supposed to wander around and find the others?"

"It goes perhaps a bit further than that, love. You were also supposed to find me."

"I'd already done that, hadn't I?"

"Not really. You'd found Emmy the cat, but you hadn't found me yet when you first saw the Knife."

"I suppose I hadn't at that. Where are we going here?"

"We'll get to it, Althalus. When Eliar saw the word 'lead,' he thought it meant that lie was supposed to command an army, but that's not what it meant at all. Andine read 'obey' and that's how she defeated Gelta."

"All right, I can follow you so far. Leitha's supposed to 'listen,' except that she doesn't do it with her ears. We've already used that particular capability of hers any number of times."

"It's going to be just a bit more complicated than that when she meets Koman."

"I sort of gathered that. She knows what she's going to have to do, and she doesn't like it one little bit. She cried all over the front of my tunic after she'd tacked that 'daddy' on to me. Just exactly what is it that she's supposed to do to Koman?"

"She'll listen, Althalus, and when she listens, Koman won't be able to hear anymore. It's a very subtle sort of procedure."

"But awful?"

"Very, very awful. That's why Leitha needs you so desperately. Don't scold her when she calls you 'daddy.' She's crying out for help. Comfort her as much as you can."

"In that dream you wished off on all of us, what the deuce was that shirt she was tearing apart?"

"That was Koman, love."

"She's going to rip him all to pieces? Isn't that just a little gruesome?"

"Quite a bit worse than gruesome, love," Dweia said sadly, "but it has to be done. Next we come to Bheid. 'Illuminate' might just be the most complicated word of the lot. Ultimately, Bheid's going to expose Argan and his Scarlet Robes for what they really are-the priesthood of Daeva."

"I didn't see anything like that in the dream vision."

"Then you weren't watching, Althalus. What was I doing?"

"You brushed all the dust off the altar into your hand. Then you tossed it up into the air, and a breeze from the window blew it away." He frowned. "But that window was Bheid in some peculiar way. That was the part that really confused me."

"Bheid's task is to 'illuminate,' Althalus, and that's what windows are for. They let in light-but they also let a breeze come in. The dream turned Argan into dust, I tossed him up into the air, and the breeze that came through the window we call Bheid blew the dust that was Argan away. Look upon the dream vision I gave you as a metaphor." She paused. "That is the most useful word. All sorts of things can be explained as metaphors."

"In a nonmetaphorical sense, what's really going to happen to Argan?"

"His body will lose its cohesion, and the tiny bits that were originally Argan will float in the air. Then the window we know as Bheid will let in a breeze. A good, stiff breeze clears the air and lets in the truth. That's another kind of 'illumination,' isn't it?"

"Will Argan ever come back together again?"

"I don't think so, no."

"So Bheid kills again, right? He was just practicing when he killed Yakhag. His real task is to kill Argan. Why all this beating around the bush, Em? Why didn't you just come right out and tell me that you want Bheid to murder Argan?"

Her green eyes narrowed, and she hissed at him.

He laughed delightedly. "Oh, I do love you, Em!" he declared, taking her in his arms and affectionately nuzzling at the side of her neck.

She suddenly giggled almost girlishly and tried to pull away and to hunch up her shoulder to cover her neck. "Please don't do that, Althalus," she said.

"Why not?" he asked with wide-eyed innocence.

"Because it tickles, that's why."

"Are you ticklish, Em?"

"We'll discuss that some other time."

He grinned at her slyly. "I can hardly wait," he said, laughing.

CHAPTER FORTY.

Brother Bheid looked distinctly uncomfortable in the ornate chair in Exarch Aleikon's former office. "Do I really have to use this room, Althalus?" he asked a bit plaintively after they'd been in Maghu for about a week.

Althalus shrugged. "Not if it bothers you, Bheid. What's wrong with it?"

"It's too luxurious. I'm trying to recruit priests for an order that's supposed to take a vow of poverty. This isn't really the place for that."

"Select another room, then. How's the recruiting coming along?"

"Not too well, really," Bheid admitted. "Most of the applicants still believe that joining the clergy is an easy road to wealth and power. As soon as I tell them what's going to be expected of them, they lose interest. The ones who keep smiling and nodding are usually Brown Robes in disguise. Aleikon's doing his best to infiltrate my order, but Leitha's been weeding his people out for me. When we get to the bottom of it, though, it's a good day when I manage to get three acceptable candidates."

"I think you might have to start raiding seminaries, Bheid," Althalus suggested. "Catch them when they're still young and idealistic."

The door opened, and Leitha stood a bit hesitantly in the doorway. "Are you busy?" she asked.

"Not noticeably," Bheid said. "The word seems to be getting around that when I say 'poverty,' I mean just that. Come in."

Leitha entered and crossed the large room. "Is there some way for you to block out the eavesdroppers, Daddy?" she whispered to Althalus. "Aleikon's got several people hidden behind the walls of this place. They're reporting every word back to him."

"We should have expected that, I guess," Althalus observed. He frowned, roving back through the pages of the Book. "This might turn the trick," he muttered.

"Why not ask Dweia?" Leitha suggested.

"I'd like to see if I can find one on my own," Althalus replied. Then he said, "Kadh-leu," waving one hand in the air.

'"Kadh-leu"?' Dweia's voice echoed incredulously in his mind.

'I have trouble with negatives, Em,' he admitted. 'I can usually come up with the right word when I want to tell somebody to do something. Telling him not to do it gets a little confusing. Did it work?'