Chapter XVIII

“At the Show of Faith don't shed a tear,

A hundred eyes watch you, my dear.

Smile as they send your mom to bake,

or you'll be next upon the stake.

Laugh as your father loses his head,

or else you too shall wind up dead.

Don't keep secrets with your friends,

Our eyes will see them in the end.

And don't dare pray to stars above,

The dark of night chokes out their love.

Just be good and stay in line,

and everything will turn out fine.

No blade at your neck nor pitch at your feet,

so long as your loyalty is complete.

Don't listen to the demons' lies,

or else your ash shall fill the skies!”

They'd been singing it all morning, this macabre children's song that explained what life was like under the thumb of the Inquisition and Sir Gilad. Ardal had never before actually found himself wishing children would sing a disgusting song about bodily functions or an annoying song which repeated the same verse over and over, but as he was reminded again and again of the horror these children had seen, and how complacent they'd become in it, he found himself all but praying to Prunikos they'd sing a song about flatulence instead. Each time they sang it they sounded more and more jovial, giggling as if the lyrics were silly.

He'd heard Galia or Sir Kedem scolding them for singing the song from time to time, Galia had even threatened to deny them dessert if they kept singing it. Since they continued singing the song anyway Ardal couldn't tell if they didn't care about being denied dessert because it was more satisfying for them to get a rise out of Galia and Sir Kedem, or if Galia's threats were empty. In any case, he decided that they'd failed to solve the problem, and it was up to him to succeed where they had failed.

The real root of the problem was, of course, the Inquisition, which he would not be able to deal with just yet, but for the time being he could at least deal with the more immediate problem. He made his way to the church's library wing. The library was a recent addition, since the Nihilite gospel was passed on through oral tradition, but Ardal was bound to find something useful there. After a few moments of distracted searching, his fingertips tracing the spines of every book on the shelf, he found “Songs for Children.” Surely there was something appropriate there, and Ardal pulled the book from the shelf. After reading a few pages, however, he discovered a problem with the songs. All of them were, well, too childish. Contrary to what many believed, children knew when they were being talked down to. Part of the reason they were singing “A Hundred Eyes,” was because the song was edgy, dark, and they could tell. They were singing it because they weren't supposed to, because they could get a rise out of all the adults who heard it, and the songs written for their age group wouldn't get that kind of reaction, so he pushed the book back into place. After a moment more of searching he found something far more likely to catch their interest, “Bawdy Songs,” it was called. Perfect! He wasn't sure what it was doing in the temple, and the children would scarce understand the lyrics, sure, but when they saw the reactions on the faces of adults as they sang these lyrics they'd be sure to sing them over and over. Ardal would much rather they sang about debauchery than about oppression, persecution, and being burned alive.

When he was sure he'd found a catchy one, and had repeated the song in a whisper a few times to make sure he got the tune right, he found a group of the boys, all aged between nine and twelve, and gathered together, playing with sticks, which they were using as swords. Clearly the boys had been denied wooden swords as toys, for such might encourage actual violence, but boys would make anything into a play weapon, even if it only vaguely resembled one.

“Good morning, boys,” Ardal said, approaching the group. As he approached they immediately stopped hitting their sticks together as if they were swords and poked at the ground with them instead, avoiding eye contact with Ardal. None of them said a word to him. “How are you this morning?” Again, they said nothing. Ardal looked out the window, watching the city guards and the citizens passing by outside of the temple, and then began humming. When he was sure that the boys were listening to the catchy tune he was humming he began actually singing the lyrics, starting off quiet, and slowly rising in volume.

“Let me tell ye a story lads, from the times when I was young,

'Tis true what the ladies say, like a jackass I was hung,

And matching me in wooing lasses,there was no other,

Not a man alive could match my prowess as a lover!

Lai lee lai lee lai lai lai, lo lee lee lai lai!

Not a man alive could match my prowess as a lover!

I recall the names of every single girl I've ever bed,

And the way each nothing felt around me head,

Even sweet Brianna, now there was a fine lass,

I'd compliment her eyes, but then grab her by the ass!

Lai lee lai lee lai lai lai, lo lee lee lai lai!

I'd compliment her eyes, but then grab her by the ass!

The very next girl I plowed was bonnie young Shanane,

That wildcat's a girl not a soul will ever tame,

She'd howl like the alpha wolf when we were in the sack,

And every night she'd leave her claw marks up and down my back!

Lai lee lai lee lai lai lai, lo lee lee lai lai!

And every night she'd leave her claw marks up and down my back!”

There were several more verses yet to the song, but they just got more and more crass as they went, and by then Ardal figured he had enough. The boys didn't fully comprehend the lyrics they'd heard, but they knew the song was dirty, and they had recognized a few naughty words.

“Sing it again!” one of them demanded as soon as he was done, a big smile across his face.

Ardal knew he had them, so he repeated the song for them, and they giggled at the end of every rude verse. He felt a little bad about teaching children something so base and disrespectful, but he still felt it better than the other song they'd been singing.

Far down the hall, Galia came out of her bedroom, dressed in her priestly robes, and ready for the day, and she spotted Ardal with the boys. She couldn't hear what he was singing to them, not clearly anyway, but she could vaguely make out the sound of a tune, and could hear the children laughing. Sir Kedem soon joined her in the hall, crossing his arms and shaking his head as he watched Ardal with the children.

“What?” said Galia. “He's good with kids!” She didn't understand why Sir Kedem couldn't appreciate this, it was rare to find a man Ardal's age who could make little ones laugh so hard, especially after they'd seen all the horrors they'd seen.

“Good at teaching them blasphemies!” Sir Kedem said. “If that's not what he's doing it's what everyone will think he's doing if they see him with the children. You want my advice? Lock him in the guest room, make sure he doesn't come out until it's time for him to leave.”

“He's not a prisoner!” Galia hissed. “And people won't come into the light if those in the light are treating them like that!”

When Ardal noticed Galia and Sir Kedem watching him he said a quick goodbye to the boys and walked away. Honestly, he didn't really want Galia knowing that he'd taught them such a crude song, just in case she didn't see the value of it like he did. He felt confident that all the kids in the temple would be singing that song soon, as the boys were already humming it as they walked away.

“How are you feeling?” Galia asked as Ardal drew near and Sir Kedem walked away in a huff.

Even when Sir Kedem was angry his steps made very little sound. Ardal would have to make note of that for later. “My shoulder still aches,” said Ardal, in response to Galia's inquiry, “But I have some feeling in my forearm again, so that's an improvement.”

“It is it is,” Galia said, smiling widely. “God is good!”

“Your God's the one who infected me in the first place,” Ardal blurted out, but promptly covered his mouth. Now he was sure he'd gone and done it, Galia had been kind enough to heal him and he'd insulted her God. Out loud. To Galia's face. That was all he needed, to offend the one person who could help him. He was sure he'd no longer be welcome there after that.

But Galia simply glanced around the temple, making sure no one else was in ear-shot when he'd said that. “Why don't we speak privately?” she said, taking his good hand and leading him down the hall and back to her room. She glanced around the hall one more time before shutting the door to her room with her and Ardal inside, hoping the closed door would give them some privacy. “Alright, tell me your grievances.”

“My what?”

“You hate the Agalmite God. I want to know if this stems from something more than just Nihilite doctrine.”

“You want to know why I hate your God?” Ardal asked.

“Yes. I want to understand why.”

Ardal wasn't sure why Galia wanted to know the reasons why he was, as she saw it, a blasphemer, but he didn't want to miss the opportunity to express his grievances to a member of the Agalmite church who seemed to be willing to listen. “Well, for starters, because he's trapped all of mankind here in this terrible world!”

“What makes you think this world is so terrible?” Galia asked.

“You honestly don't know?” To Ardal all of the ways in which the world was an awful, terrible place were plain as day. He was baffled how anyone, no matter how indoctrinated into an idolatrous belief system couldn't see that. “Where do I begin? Let's start with the mere fact that we're forced to walk on the ground.” Ardal took a few steps back and forth to illustrate his point. “You know what the daemons do in the Void? They fly! They may go wherever they wish! There's no ground beneath their feet, no limitations, they're free!”

“Sounds rather chaotic to me,” Galia said. “I see your point, but doesn't something as simple as ground under your feet give you some stability? A feeling of safety?”

“Perhaps that wasn't the best example,” Ardal said. “Alright, how about this, take a look at the politics of this world. Look at the people in power. Maybe in Arx you've been blessed with your fair share of benevolent kings and queens, but everywhere else in the world operates on a simple principle: if you want to succeed you have to be more ruthless than everyone else! You see it even in this very city! Duke Jachai could have appointed a knight who was fair and just to watch over this city, but instead he appointed Sir Gilad. And it's not just here in Nihilus either. The warlords of Shadia are constantly at war, and only those willing to go further, commit the more horrible atrocities win these wars. In the West the noble houses of the city-states gain their power through poison, assassination, bribery, and corruption.”

“These are some serious problems, Ardal,” Galia admitted. “But surely you must see that it is mankind, not God, who creates these problems.”

“He doesn't do much to fix it.”

“His powers are limited. He could always send his armies of angels to conquer Erets and rule it, but then wouldn't he be even more the tyrant you hate? Wouldn't you just hate him for that too?”

Ardal stammered for a moment, trying to think of a retort to that. She had him there, many of his grievances against the Agalmite God had to do with the evils of mankind and how little their God did about it. He wanted to tell her that it was the Arxians who had most encouraged his growing disgust for their deity, but he realized that her comment already covered that. For one brief moment he found himself questioning what he believed. Perhaps did he really just hate Saklas, the God the Agalmites worshiped, because he'd been taught to? Because he'd been caught up in all of the doctrine that Nihilite elders had fed him all these years? He'd never been to the Void, could he honestly say that it was any better than Erets?

But then he remembered something else his professors used to tell him, another reason to hate Saklas. “What about those mothers who give birth to still-born children? Those people who are born blind or deaf? The earthquakes that level entire cities? What about the countless people every day who catch the damned Gavish? Your God gives them this disease, why? So they can thank him when the priests heal them? Sounds to me like he creates a problem just so he can seem the hero for solving it in that case.”

“I started to heal you yesterday, something I couldn't have possibly done if God didn't want me to. So tell me, Ardal, did you feel even the most fleeting moment of gratitude to him for that?”

“No! He infected me in the first place!”

“So he knows you hate him, knows you're ungrateful to him, knows you will probably continue to hate him long after you're healed, and even knows that, as a Nihilite, you are actively seeking ways to destroy the beautiful world he's worked so hard to create, and yet he gives me the power I need to heal you anyway. Why do you suppose that is?”

“I...I don't know...”

“What could he possibly have to gain?”

“...Nothing...” Ardal said.

“Then why?”

“I really have no idea.”

“It's simple, really. I'll tell you,” Galia began. “Because in spite of the fact that you hate him, in spite of the fact that you have no faith in him, he still sees the good in you, still sees the virtue in you. The very fact that you're not too proud to come to me for help, in spite of my faith, shows a great deal of character, and that character must be genuine, otherwise the prayers wouldn't work. You have a good heart, Ardal, even if it's confused, and because you have a good heart he's empowering me to heal you.”

In a strange way, a lot of what she was saying was starting to make sense to Ardal. He wasn't ready to swear his loyalty to Saklas just yet, for Saklas was still the one responsible for King Therion's death, and had undoubtedly had a hand in the Arxians conquering Nihilus, but he could understand why Galia believed so strongly in him.

“Let me show you what I mean,” Galia said, taking Ardal's petrified hand and pressing it to her forehead again. “Oh, God, who dwells beneath the land, you who created Erets as a bastion of hope and order in the chaotic Void, show this man your love for him, pour out your loving kindness upon him and heal him of his affliction. So may it be.”

Again the crystals on his arm receded, and more feeling was restored to his forearm. He could feel the warmth of her forehead and her hands against his. Seeing the crystals shrink back, and realizing now the implications of what this meant, tears gathered in Ardal's eyes, but he fought them, held them in, he would not show a sign of weakness, not even for a second. By no means was she to know that she had touched him with her talk of how much her God loved him. He kept silently reminding himself, “Elykos is taking care of me, not her God. Elykos watches over me. Elykos watches over me!”

“I understand why it's hard for you to believe,” said Galia. “I don't blame you for how you think, but please try to at least keep what I said in mind.”

“Thank you, priestess,” Ardal choked out.

“Just call me Galia, my friend.”

Ardal and Galia sat in silence a moment, just looking into one another's eyes, both wanting to say something but neither finding the words to fill the silence. Ardal had spent the last several years of his life hating the Agalmites, calling them “Idolaters,” and for most of that time every Agalmite he met justified his hatred. What made this priestess so different from the others? And why did she seem so familiar to him?

Galia could tell by the look in Ardal's eyes that he was starting to recognize her, and she wondered whether or not she wanted him to. On the one hand, given that he'd been one of her favorite professors, in spite of being a bit grumpy at times, she loved the idea of a reunion with him, of him marveling at how much she'd grown since then, what a woman she'd become, all that sappy, overly-sentimental silliness that always came with such reunions. In order to do that, however, she'd have to reveal that she knew who he was, and given that sixteen years ago the Arxians were killing the professors at Leti Academy, and that the inquisitors would love to get their hands on a professor of black magic, she wasn't sure she wanted to do that. He might feel his cover was blown and make a run for it.

Their silent moment was interrupted, though, with a loud knock on the door to Galia's room. Galia scrambled to her feet, nervously, and opened the door. Standing on the other side was Sir Kedem, along with an inquisitor. Sir Kedem shot Galia an apologetic look but said nothing.

“What do you want?” Galia snapped at the inquisitor. Ardal reeled back from Galia at the sound of her aggression. Just moments ago she'd been as sweet as could be, now she was snapping at people who regularly had people tortured and executed as heretics if they didn't like them.

“I've heard a disturbing report. You took in a man with Gavish, a possible heretic,” the inquisitor said, eying Ardal's arm. “I see the rumors weren't unfounded.”

Ardal went pale. Now that he finally had a chance to survive the Gavish he felt afraid of death again. The city guard seemed to bow to Mother Galia and step out of her way, but would the Inquisition? Without turning his head he began searching the room for escape routes and planning how he would go about his attempt to get out of there. If he summoned Kamwi to provide an initial distraction he could get past Sir Kedem and the inquisitor and make a break for the sanctuary. Once there he could summon a Seeker. He'd be exhausted after that, but the Seeker, being one of the most dangerous daemons he could possibly summon, would give him the edge he needed to have a slim chance of escaping.

“How dare you?” Galia shouted at the inquisitor. “How dare you accuse this brave pilgrim?”

“Come again?” the inquisitor said. Ardal almost repeated the words, equally confused by Galia's question.

“You don't know what he's been through! This man was one of several who went with a missionary up to Shadia, to speak to the northern barbarians there, to bring them into the light! A vicious warlord attacked his group, slaughtering everyone. He was the only survivor! And as he made his way through the wilderness, lost, alone, and starving he discovered he'd caught the Gavish! He barely made it back to civilization alive! After all he's been through you want him to suffer even more? You want to throw your accusations at him?”

“I...I had no idea...” the inquisitor stammered.

“GET OUT!” Galia shouted. “Get out of my temple! Do not profane this place with your presence any longer!”

The inquisitor gave a quick, apologetic bow and then scampered out of the temple like a frightened dog, nearly tripping over his own cassock in the process. Sir Kedem could barely contain his laughter. Ardal just stood there, his mouth hanging open.

“Well done,” Sir Kedem said, once the inquisitor had left, now allowing himself to laugh out loud.

“Thank you.” Galia grinned and laughed along.

“My dear girl, you're the only one I know who can make those black-robed fools wet themselves! That was priceless! My only regret is that I can't tell everyone all about it!”

“It would make quite the story at parties, to be sure,” Galia said, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes. “Now, Sir Kedem, if you don't mind, I need a few more moments with Ardal.”

“Of course.” There was no hesitation in Sir Kedem's voice this time. Perhaps after seeing her handle that situation so well he assumed she knew what she was doing with Ardal.

Galia closed the door again, and gave herself a moment to collect herself before speaking to Ardal again. “Well, I'm sure you know what that little exchange implies.”

“I'm...not sure...” Ardal responded, scratching his head. The shock of seeing her tell off an inquisitor was still in his mind, it would be a few more moments at least before he could think of much else.

“It implies that you'll have to keep up the act,” Galia said, patting his shoulder. “Until you're fully healed you'll have to pretend as if my story is true, act as if you truly are a loyal Agalmite.”

“You expect me to kneel before your idol? I refuse!”

“You come to me for healing, showing that you care about your own life, but you're not willing to bend a knee in front of a statue? Oh, please!” Galia rolled her eyes. “You'd only be pretending, not actually believing the words you'd say. I'm sure that if your demons are as kind as you seem to think they are they'll understand your need to deceive the inquisitors in order to survive.”

That was a challenge as much as it was an argument. Ardal could tell that she was implying that he put his daemons to the test regarding their forgiving nature. If her God was willing to heal him in spite of his open defiance but the daemons were quick to curse him just for pretending to worship Saklas for a few days it would, in her mind at least, prove her theology right and his wrong. “You make a fair point,” he said. “Fine, for the next few days I'll pretend to be...” Ardal hesitated on the wording for a moment, before finally coming up with the right phrase, and emphasizing every syllable, “One of you.”

Galia ignored how obviously the words were meant to hurt her. “Good to know I can count on you to look after yourself.”

That response stung. Ardal would have much preferred that she'd simply gotten mad at him, gotten offended, or rolled her eyes at his comment. Instead she responded with kindness, and reminded him that it was not for her sake that she was asking him to lie, it was not for her sake that he was there in the temple at all. “I'm sorry, I don't want to sound ungrateful...really, I'm not. Thank you for everything you're doing for me, Galia.”

There was the good man she'd remembered. In a time when having a good heart could get you killed he was hiding the good in him, burying it deep inside, under layers of anger and prejudice. With a little digging, though, she was bringing it out of him again. As much as she enjoyed the thought of bringing him into the light, helping him to see the world and her God as she did, she much more enjoyed the thought of bringing him back to his old, kind-hearted self.