Time of the Twins

That wasn’t at all what he had expected. She had more the look of a young girl deceived by a lover. “Why, of course, my dear,” Denubis said in some confusion.

“Really?” Lifting her gaze, she looked into his eyes with an intent stare that made Denubis pause. “You have been with the church for a long time, before the coming of the Kingpriest and Quar—his ministers. You talk about the old days. You have seen it change. Is it better?”

Denubis opened his mouth to say, certainly, yes, it was better. How could it be otherwise with such a good and holy man as the Kingpriest at its head? But Lady Crysania’s gray eyes were staring straight into his soul, he realized suddenly, feeling their searching, seeking gaze bringing light to all the dark corners where he had been hiding things—he knew—for years. He was reminded, uncomfortably, of Fistandantilus.

“I—well—of course—it’s just—” He was babbling and he knew it. Flushing, he fell silent. Crysania nodded gravely, as if she had expected the answer.

“No, it is better,” he said firmly, not wanting to see her young faith bruised, as his had been. Taking her hand, he leaned forward. “I’m just a middle-aged old man, my dear. And middle-aged old men don’t like change. That’s all. To us, everything was better in the old days. Why”—he chuckled—“even the water tasted better, it seems. I’m not used to modern ways. It’s hard for me to understand. The church is doing a world of good, my dear. It’s bringing order to the land and structure to society—”

“Whether society wants it or not,” Crysania muttered, but Denubis ignored her.

“It’s eradicating evil,” he continued, and suddenly the story of that knight—that Lord Soth—floated to the top of his mind, unbidden. He sank it hurriedly, but not before he had lost his place in his lecture. Lamely, he tried to pick it up again, but it was too late.

“Is it?” Lady Crysania was asking him. “Is it eradicating evil? Or are we like children, left alone in the house at night, who light candle after candle to keep away the darkness. We don’t see that the darkness has a purpose—though we may not understand it—and so, in our terror, we end up burning down the house!”

Denubis blinked, not understanding this at all; but Crysania continued, growing more and more restless as she talked. It was obvious, Denubis realized uncomfortably, that she had kept this pent up inside her for weeks.

“We don’t try to help those who have lost their way find it again! We turn our backs on them, calling them unworthy, or we get rid of them! Do you know”—she turned on Denubis—“that Quarath has proposed ridding the world of the ogre races?”

“But, my dear, ogres are, after all, a murderous, villainous lot—” Denubis ventured to protest feebly.

“Created by the gods, just as we were,” Crysania said. “Do we have the right, in our imperfect understanding of the great scheme of things, to destroy anything the gods created?”

“Even spiders?” Denubis asked wistfully, without thinking. Seeing her irritated expression, he smiled. “Never mind. The ramblings of an old man.”

“I came here, convinced that the church was everything good and true, and now I—I—” She put her head in her hands.

Denubis’s heart ached nearly as much as his head. Reaching out a trembling hand, he gently stroked the smooth, blue-black hair, comforting her as he would have comforted the daughter he never had.

“Don’t feel ashamed of your questioning, child,” he said, trying to forget that he had been feeling ashamed of his. “Go, talk to the Kingpriest. He will answer your doubts. He has more wisdom than I.”

Crysania looked up hopefully.

“Do you think—”

“Certainly.” Denubis smiled. “See him tonight, my dear. He will be holding audience. Do not be afraid. Such questions do not anger him.”

“Very well,” Crysania said, her face filled with resolve. “You are right. It’s been foolish of me to wrestle with this myself, without help. I’ll ask the Kingpriest. Surely, he can make this darkness light.”

Denubis smiled and rose to his feet as Crysania rose. Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Thank you, my friend,” she said softly. “I’ll leave you to your work.”

Watching her walk from the still, sunlit room, Denubis felt a sudden, inexplicable sorrow and, then, a very great fear. It was as if he stood in a place of bright light, watching her walk into a vast and terrible darkness. The light around him grew brighter and brighter, while the darkness around her grew more horrible, more dense.

Confused, Denubis put his hand to his eyes. The light was real! It was streaming into this room, bathing him in a radiance so brilliant and beautiful that he couldn’t look upon it. The light pierced his brain, the pain in his head was excruciating. And still, he thought desperately, I must warn Crysania, I must stop her...