You should probably cue up two songs in your mind for background music for this chapter. First, I need you to imagine Jan speaking in Arlo Guthrie's voice. Yes, as in "Alice's Restaurant". (He *insisted* in telling this story.) Later, cue the "Rocky" theme song! (What else?)
LXVIII. Judgement Day
Patricia stood in front of the Copper Coronet, waiting for Minsc, Jan, & Boo. The early morning light cast long shadows over her wool-swathed figure. The Order robe left nothing exposed to the sun once she had pulled up the hood and tucked her hands into the loose sleeves. She was as shapeless a form as a wraith, and that was also something of how she felt. The monk felt as if everything were curiously unreal this morning, that nothing would have any true substance for her until she knew what fate would befall Anomen. She hadn't been this nervous about her own trial. The difference was that no matter which way Anomen's Test went, she was certain that she did not stand to gain anything. If he failed, she would not be able to bear his pain; if he succeeded, he was likely to pass from her life altogether. She clenched her fists tightly within their enveloping sleeves. She wouldn't break, she mustn't, for Anomen's sake and the sake of her own pride.
Ah! Here came Minsc & Jan. But where was Boo? Then she spotted the small head poking out of the pouch, and smiled. "So, Minsc," she called, "I see you have a passenger once more."
The ranger beamed. "Boo says that he thought it would be better to go like this. Fewer questions. And my hamster must not disappear all at once."
She nodded understanding. She noted that Boo had seen to it that the men were dressed in their best once again. She supposed that somewhere or other she was glad about the fact, though her all her emotions except dread seemed to be covered over with a thin layer of ice this morning.
"Let's go," she said abruptly, and the others fell in on either side of her. She tried to think of anything that might serve as a distraction for the others, if not herself, during the walk to meet Anomen at the Bridge District temple of Helm. "Hey, Jan," she said, "do you mind if I ask what you said during your interview with the Prelate?"
Jan looked at her. "I told them a story, of course. What else? The one about the village council over in the Woodtine Hills. See, most everybody in that village--- Wet Creek Falls--- was from one of three families: the Jansens, the Pringles, and the Shadowspurs. Now, Pringles and Jansens don't see eye to eye in certain matters. Never have, never will. I'm not sayin' anything against 'em, mind, but it's a fact that most Pringles would rather mash potatoes than turnips, and even when they do cook turnips they insist on putting in a hambone for flavoring, which us Jansens think is plain heresy."
"Well, things jogged along pretty well anyway in old Wet Creek for a century or two, until the inevitable happened. A Pringle girl and a Jansen boy decided they just had to get married, much as both sides had done to get 'em to change their minds. So Juniper Pringle and Pennyroyal Jansen decided to sneak off out of the deep gorge the village was in during the middle of the night, and get married at sunup in Stonepatch, which was the next village up the creek. Only problem was, this was in the Claws of the Cold, and the only trail out led up by the side of the great waterfall that gave the village its name. Well, it was covered in ice from the spume thrown by the cascade, so the young lovers slipped and slid on the rocks for hours, until about three in the morning it commenced to snow. And after another hour or two, the snow became a blizzard, and it put a blanket of the white stuff two feet deep all over the gorge before it quit about eight o'clock in the morning."
"Now when the rest of the village woke up, it didn't take long for their parents to notice that Juny and Penny were missin'. And it didn't take much longer'n that before nearly the whole village was out in the square, Pringles on one side and Jansens on the other, each family accusin' the other of drivin' the poor young kids to a horrible fate. Well, it all ended up with a horrendous food fight, potatoes and turnips flung helter-skelter until every single Pringle and Jansen root cellar in town had been emptied of ammunition. There was a layer of potatoes and turnips in the square a foot deep, lyin' over the two feet of snow already there, and by this time it was close to noon."
"Along about that time folks started realizin' what fools they'd been making of themselves. Their whole winter stores were strewn everywhere, getting stepped on, and nobody knew whose had originally been whose. To make matters worse, the kids had probably frozen to death in the meantime. So everybody was just getting set to have a good long wail of lamentation when someone spies a group of six or seven gnomes floundering through the snow towards them. And in the middle of the group they can just make out Penny and Juny. And everyone is so shocked they don't say a word. Just watch 'em close in."
"Now, the Shadowspurs were a real quiet lot mostly, and there were rumors they actually had dwarvish skeletons somewhere in their closets. I don't know myself, I never got to pick the locks on the closet doors. But anyway, the village council was almost all made up of Shadowspurs, since Pringles weren't gonna vote for Jansens, and vice versa. And the headman was Knomon Shadowspur, a gnome so boring he was actually a cleric of Calladuran Smoothhands."
"As soon as he had heard the fuss starting up, old Knomon had gathered up some of his grandkids and set off with lanterns and ropes and stuff to hunt for the lost lovers. They clattered and scrambled and climbed all the way to the top of the gorge, but there was no sign of Penny and Juny. Just as they were standing on the rim, gazing back into the gorge and about to give up all hope, they heard a shout from below, and the bedraggled pair crawled onto the path. Well, after Knomon had finished giving them what-for, he turned them straight back around and herded them back down to the village. They all had a long talk on the way, and Knomon's face got grimmer and grimmer as he heard the whole truth from Penny and Juny for the first time."
"Once they got to the square, Knomon strode into the center, stamping his mace on the ground with every step and clanking his armor as impressively as possible. All the other villagers thronged around him respectfully, waiting for him to speak."
"Finally he opened his mouth and said, 'This feud's gone on long enough. I hereby make the following proclamations. First: Juniper and Pennyroyal shall trade names. Juny's now a Jansen, and Penny's a Pringle. They've decided they don't love each other, they just wanted to be each other. Juny likes turnips, and Penny likes potatoes.' And the whole village gave a collective gasp of surprise, but shut up again when ol' Knomon stomped that mace down on the loudest gasper's toe."
"'Second,' the cleric said, 'I hereby decree that here in Wet Creek Falls, your name shall indicate what you like: all those who like turnips shall be Jansens, and all those who like potatoes shall be Pringles. If you like both, you're to be called a Shadowspur. Two weeks from now will be official choosing day, since by that point we'll all know for sure which we like best.'"
"Then he ordered all the vegetables to be shoveled into barrels, baskets, and boxes, potatoes and turnips together, and stored in a barn. And since no one knew whose food was whose, everyone had to eat turnip and potato stew three times a day until spring, no matter what they liked best. So now, almost everyone in Wet Creek Falls is a Shadowspur, except for Juniper Pringle-Jansen and Pennyroyal Jansen-Pringle, who eventually did fall in love and get married. They eat potatoes on even days, and turnips on the odd ones."
They were almost within sight of the temple by now. Minsc was looking confused, and even Boo was scratching his head with his paw, but Patricia stopped dead in the middle of the street. Maybe you had to be on the point of a nervous breakdown to understand one of the gnome's stories! She pushed her hood back and bent over until she was at eye level with Jan. "Tell me, Jan, do Pringles have red hair?"
He grinned at her. "Ayup. Mostly."
His grin faded as her arms moved faster than lightning, prisoning him in a gigantic embrace. "Ow! Tisha, come on, not in front of Minsc!"
"Thanks," she said in his ear. "I appreciate it more than you know. I'll keep your secret, though. I won't tell him you think he's not so bad after all." She released him. "Hey, remind me to have Winthrop tell you all about the Alice's Restaurant Anti-Massacre Movement tonight."
She shoved her hood back over her head again. "Come on, we've got a Watcher to collect." She walked on with a bit more spring in her step, humming to herself. You can get anything you want…. But the song died in her heart as she stood in front of the temple entrance once more, drowned out by the memories of mingled terror and tenderness. It was Minsc who finally pushed open the doors and found Anomen waiting in the narthex.
The Watcher looked pale and grave, and as he stepped into the sunlight, every metal piece of his equipment gleamed. He was so bright it almost hurt her eyes to look at him. Yes, of course that was why her sight was suddenly a little blurry…. She was grateful for the all-concealing robe; as long as she could just be silent, she need not betray herself.
"Lead on," was all she could manage to say, and even those two words sounded strange to her own ears. Cautiously she tried to keep a good ten feet between them; if she caught any anxiety at all from him at this point, she would break down completely.
"Nalia and Keldorn are meeting us there," Jan added.
"Boo says that he wishes you all success," Minsc added. Anomen's eyes widened as he noted the return of the pouch. "I… thank you for the good wishes, Beauregard," he said weakly. He turned toward the northeast end of the Bridge. "Come then. Let me face my Judgment."
They said nothing more until they met Keldorn and Nalia in the east foyer of the Headquarters building. Keldorn looked rested and happy; Patricia recalled with despair that she would need to discuss this Imnesvale business with him as soon as possible. Nalia was quite simply excited by the occasion.
Patricia felt her chest constricting as she saw Sir Ryan enter at the far end of the foyer. Somehow, the companions arranged themselves automatically into a triangular formation, Anomen at the point, backed by Minsc and Keldorn, with herself in the center back, flanked to either side by the mages.
"Sir Ryan Trawl! I have arrived and am prepared to be Judged," Anomen said.
"Excellent, Squire Anomen," replied the paladin. "The Prelate waits within. May Torm be with you on this day."
"And also with you," replied the Watcher.
"Step inside the hall," Ryan instructed. "I shall speak with you when you are finished. Your party may accompany you if you wish."
"I do wish it," said Anomen with firmness. He turned at looked straight at them all, ending with Patricia. "My friends, follow me and observe the Judgement."
The main hall was ringed with observers standing between the columns of the colonnade. As the party entered, a sussuration of whispers echoed among the vaulted ceiling. So that's who's up today… remember how awkward… what's a Rashemani doing so far from home… who's the girl… what's that in the robe… must be a mage… can't be… some funny chain… Lady Nalia de'Arnise… had a run-in with some ogres…that one in the wool must be sweating buckets…A JANSEN?
The echoes died as all comments ceased at the entrance of Prelate Wessalen. He paced in stately procession to the dais, where other chief members stood at silent attention. He came to a halt in the center of the platform, and stared for a long moment at Anomen's glittering figure, which now advanced slowly a few feet. Keldorn signaled Minsc, and they peeled back to form a straight line with the others. Patricia was now standing about fifteen feet directly behind the Watcher.
"Anomen Delryn, son of Cor and Moirala, do you stand before me pledged to the service of justice? Do you stand before me pledged to the service of righteousness?" asked the Prelate suddenly, in ringing tones that broke the silence with the violence of a rock splashing into a puddle.
"Prelate of the Order, I so stand. I pledge my life to the service of justice and righteousness."
Oh, no, how much of this is there to get through? I never even asked! Patricia thought suddenly. It could be hours, for all I know! Even so, she remained as rigidly immobile as Anomen and the Prelate themselves.
"Anomen Delryn, do you stand before me seeking a knighthood of the Order?"
"I do so stand," replied Anomen steadily.
"Do you stand before me prepared to accept the Judgement of Torm? Are your actions and those you travel with laid bare? Shall I judge you as I have been judged?" pressed Wessalen, voice stern with warning.
Patricia saw with pride that Anomen did not flinch an iota. She could read his posture the way other people could read faces.
"My past and my actions I lay bare before you. I ask that you judge me as you have been judged."
"May the spirit of Torm enter this chamber!" said the Prelate, raising his hands in invocation to the heavens, and automatically Patricia's left hand raised in the ritual gesture symbolic of her own Order as she knelt respectfully. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Keldorn also dropping to his knees, the Hallowed Redeemer braced in front of him. Anomen, too, made obeisance.
"May my Judgement be unclouded," finished the Prelate. He advanced towards the edge of the dais. "Welcome to this place, Anomen. Is there aught that you would say before we begin?"
"Thank you, Prelate," said Anomen respectfully. "I would say that all of my life I have dreamed of this day, as the culmination of everything I have strived to become. I shall never be more or less ready in the sight of Torm and Helm than at this moment. Judge me as you have been judged."
There was a long moment of silence. Patricia could not breathe, and her heartbeat rang like thunder in her ears, along with the singing noise of the blood in her veins. How long is he going to drag this out? Another part of her mind replied, It's only been ten seconds, silly.
"So shall it be," said the Prelate, as a broad smile spread across his face. "The Judgement is perfectly clear. Anomen Delryn, you have proven yourself well worthy of the honor of knighthood."
Patricia held her pose by sheer strength of will, even though she wanted to let out a wild cry of joy. Or pain, she wasn't sure which. She heard a gasp, and the soft impact as Nalia clasped her hands together in delight.
Wessalen drew an immense sword from a scabbard held by an aide and descended the dais to tap it on the Watcher's shoulders and head in the age-old ritual. "I dub thee Sir Anomen. Knight of the Order, arise and give your oath!"
Oh, how she wished she could see Anomen's face at this moment! But she could hear the repressed emotion in his voice as he made his vows. Ah, that took her back! She heard the same awed joy that she herself had felt when she swore her own oath.
"Under witness of all gathered, I swear to uphold the honor of the Order for as long as I shall live. I pledge my dying breath to the service of good. In Helm's name, I thank thee, Prelate. I swear that I shall never falter 'neath the banner of Helm."
"Go then, Sir Anomen Delryn, and serve the cause," commanded the Prelate. "As in the days of your squirehood, you shall serve for now under the Paladin Ryan Trawl. May Torm bless thee. You are hereby excused."
As soon as the Prelate had spoken those last words, Anomen was surrounded by a knot of well-wishers. Patricia's heart suddenly sank like a stone as she remembered the likely outcome of the day. It wouldn't do to show her lacerated feelings in front of everyone else. She spied Keldorn still standing next to her, not yet pulled into the thronging mass. Might as well get that unpleasant piece of business out of the way. She reached over and touched his arm, pitching her voice low to make herself heard over the sudden cacophony. "Sir Keldorn, may I speak with you privately for a moment?"
He looked surprised. "Of course, Lady Patricia, but do you not wish to stay a few moments?"
She shook her hooded head emphatically. "No. I have nothing to stay for. When he gets a chance, Anomen will tell us where he has been posted to, I am sure."
Keldorn looked even more surprised than before, and Patricia blessed the impenetrable shadow created by the robe. Had she really been wearing her heart on her sleeve all these days, in spite of her efforts to disguise her feelings? "Will my quarters be acceptable?" he finally asked hesitantly.
"Yes, that is fine. I have a problem to lay before you, but you will need to discuss it later with Maria, which is why I want to explain now," she replied.
"Ah!" he said, brow clearing. "I wondered what was so important that it could not wait, but I see you want an answer tonight."
"Yes," she agreed. "In fact, shouldn't you send a messenger on home to let your wife know the outcome? I know it may take hours to prepare everything."
He laughed. "That was her order, in fact, and I'm glad you reminded me." He beckoned to one of the pages, who gladly sped off on the errand.
As they walked down the corridors, she said, "I can see that I need not ask how your day went yesterday. You are obviously renewed by the contact with your family. That makes me even more hesitant to bring up my problem. Well, Nalia dragged me into it, really, but I don't see that I have much choice about becoming involved."
In a few sentences, she outlined Delon's story. "Even in this garbled form, the whole thing reeks of foul magic, possibly even the undead," she concluded, "and therein lies my dilemma. I as much as promised Lady Maria that I would not ask for your help on anything outside the city walls, but I will need the aid of someone with at least some clerical abilities."
"But--- forgive me, Patricia, but won't Anomen's help suffice?" Keldorn asked perplexedly. "Or is there some reason that you no longer wish his company? He has not offended you somehow, has he?"
She pushed back her hood in frustration. "Keldorn, I thought that in the Radiant Heart you must go wherever you are posted, except for the period in which you are sent forth to seek your own adventures before the Test. That only very senior knights, such as yourself and Sir Ryan, had much freedom of choice. Am I wrong?"
He laid a kindly hand on her shoulder. "I see what has been troubling you. Lady Patricia, all of us in the Order are subject to authority, true, but the binding of duty is not quite so harsh as you seem to believe. Perhaps my own situation has helped to create this false impression. If a major threat comes down upon us, then yes, whoever is available may well be remanded to serve. But otherwise, we are in fact often allowed to choose what quests we like or feel led by the gods to accept. We may even request a leave of absence for a time. I did so for a few months when I wed, and when each of my daughters was born. If no other pressing business has arisen, all you will need to do is ask the Prelate, or Sir Ryan, for assistance, specifying that you would like Sir Anomen's help. The last months have been fairly quiet, by all accounts. I do not believe they will have any objections."
She felt her knees shaking with relief. "Truly? That is all I need do?"
"Yes," he said gently, "and if Ryan proves obstreperous, send him to me. The Order already owes you and Beauregard more than one favor."
She smiled at him. "Thank you, Keldorn. And before you even think about it, don't change your mind and decide to come along to Imnesvale. I promised Lady Maria, and I don't like breaking promises. Or getting my hostess mad at me. Oh, er, one more thing," she said.
"Yes?"
"Would it be too much if I asked you to step outside for a moment? This heavy wool is miserable, and I don't want to walk back in it."
"Of course," he smiled. "The mirror is inside the wardrobe door, milady."
Patricia heard the cacophony of many armored figures walking down the hall, laughing and shouting. Probably some sort of post-Test rite, like the way she'd been pelted with ink by the other novices as she left the Master's office after being invested as a Journeywoman. She hurried to finish changing. Luckily the long-sleeved dark blue dress she had worn last night to dinner was made of a layer of unwrinklable crinkly cotton gauze that floated over an underdress of sheeting material in the same color. The gauze was embroidered all over with pastel butterflies, and she still had a pair of silver dragonfly earrings that Gorion had given her for a birthday present some years ago. Hastily she jammed the wires through the holes in her lobes (she hadn't worn earrings in so long that they'd almost grown back together) and shoved her feet back into her flat velvet shoes. It was really amazing how much one could stuff underneath a monk's robes, once you knew the secret.
She heard a low rap on the door. "Come in, Keldorn," she called, and the knight stepped back within the room only a little ahead of the cresting wave of celebrants. They didn't speak until the noise receded; Patricia spent the time folding her robe into the small cloth bag she'd used to smuggle in her other clothes, and trying to master her elation. The heavy wool took up much more space than the gauzy cotton, barely fitting into the container, and she thought that her joy was also about to burst the seams of her soul.
"What was that? A victory lap?" she inquired.
"Something of the sort, yes. Our young friend is being carried aloft to the horse trough in the stableyard, where he will be ceremoniously dunked. I expect he will come by here soon, dripping wet."
"Well, I can't stay, I'm afraid," she said. "I have a rather important errand of my own to run." She managed to make it sound careless, though in reality all she wanted to do was run singing and dancing through the halls. Oh, she could bear to wait until the evening now; in fact, a little extra delay would only sweeten the reunion. She had no qualms now about presenting Anomen with her gift, since she no longer feared that it would be a parting memento. She only needed to arrange the proper presentation, and she thought Ribald would probably have just what she wanted.
Well, that's it for now. I'm not particularly thrilled with this chapter, as it absolutely refused to go where I wanted (Keldorn just *had* to butt in). Comments are welcomed, as always! I'm concerned about possible choppiness. I know there's been a posting rush today, but I would very much appreciate any input!
---Luned
