The Walls of Air Page 0,51

not to be going better.'

The wound's a little feverish, is all,' Gil excused herself. 'I'll get over it in a day or so.'

The long, bony fingers indicated, without touching, the slings and strapping that bound Gil's shoulder. 'More than that, I fear,' she said. 'Shoulders can be a bad business.'

Beyond them in the holy place, a fresh wave of chanting rose - for the soul, Gil presumed, of Bendle Stooft. Beside her, the Bishop raised her head, listening with a critical ear. In the golden fog of the lamplight, Gil considered that face, the high, intelligent brow shadowing a deep fanatic's eyes, the stubbornness that scarred cheeks and lips like dueling cuts. Fine, small ears, dainty as shells, ornamented the smoothness of the bald pate where it ran into the old, wrinkled power of the

ropy neck muscles. It occurred to Gil that in her youth Govannin Narmenlion must have been a strikingly lovely woman, the toast of a regiment -except that women with that kind of cold and driving intelligence were very seldom the toast of anything.

'Your Grace? she asked softly, and the dark eyes returned to her as if from a reverie. 'How was the Keep built?'

The Bishop considered the matter carefully, not as Gil's friends among the Guards had. Finally she said, 'I do not know. Which in itself is strange,' she added, her long fingers moving to caress the black stone of the doorway at her side. 'For it is our shelter and our home.'

'Does anyone?'

Govannin shook her head. 'Not to my knowledge. I was considered grossly overeducated for an heiress, yet I can recall no word of that.'

Gil had to smile. 'Yeah, I was - grossly overeducated, too.'

A ghost of an answering smile touched those full ungiving lips. 'Were you?'

'Oh, yes. I was a scholar in my own lands. I suppose in a way that's what I will always be. Would the Church records have any mention of the building of the Keep? How it was done, or by whom?

The Bishop folded her arms, thinking. Past her, Gil saw movement in the sanctuary, grey-robed monks ascending narrow steps, dimly lighted by the amber glow of a censer. They vanished in shadows, but their voices remained, like the sound of winds in the rocks. 'Perhaps,' Govannin said finally. 'Most of the Scripture comes from the Times Before, but it contains teaching and wisdom, rather than engineering. The records that, no thanks to my lord Alwir, we brought here to the Keep go back to the time when the see was here at Renweth, but I do not think they extend into the Time of the Dark itself. But some

might.' She must have seen the brightening of Gil's face. 'Is this important to you?'

'It could be,' Gil said. 'Those records could contain in them some clue, some information, not only about the Keep but about the Dark. What they are - why they came -why they left.'

'Perhaps,' the Bishop said again, after a long moment's thought. 'But for the most part, I think you will find them simply tales of how much the harvest was, who was born and who was buried, and if the rains were light or heavy. As for the coming of the Dark to the Times Before...' She frowned, her dark, fine brows drawing together and the lines in that strong, crepy face hardening. 'I have heard that the civilizations of Before were wicked and debased. Amid their pride and their splendour, they practised abominations. It is my belief, now as then, that the Time of the Dark was just punishment, which lasted for the span allotted by God. The Book of lab tells us that God will let the Evil One have domination for a time, for the Lord's own purposes.' She shrugged. 'I have lived a long time and have learned never to question the motivations of God.'

'Maybe,' Gil said. 'But it seems like a lot of suffering and pain to go through, when perhaps it could be averted. If God didn't want us to learn from history, we wouldn't have hands to write with, nor eyes to read.'

'A wizard's sophistry,' the Bishop replied calmly. 'One by which they are all tempted and all fall. No, I do not criticize the argument, though I do know you are loyal to your wizard friends. But I doubt the utility of struggling against the intent of God. His ways are slow but as sure and inescapable as the coming of the ice in the