“I am sure you have confused memories of our wanderings in the wilderness.”
No."
“It is only to be expected. The sun, the thirst, the hunger . . .”
“No, lord. My memory does not confuse readily.”
“Oh, yes. I recall.”
“So do I, lord.”
Vorbis turned his head slightly, looking sidelong at Brutha as if he was trying to hide behind his own face.
“In the desert, the Great God Om spoke to me.”
“Yes, lord. He did. Every day.”
“You have a mighty if simple faith, Brutha. When it comes to people, I am a great judge.”
“Yes, lord. Lord?”
“Yes, my Brutha?”
“Nhumrod said you led me through the desert, lord.”
“Remember what I said about fundamental truth, Brutha? Of course you do. There was a physical desert, indeed, but also a desert of the soul. My God led me, and I led you.”
“Ah. Yes. I see.”
Overhead, the spiraling dot that was the eagle appeared to hang motionless in the air for a moment. Then it folded its wings and fell-
“Much was given to me in the desert, Brutha. Much was learned. Now I must tell the world. That is the duty of a prophet. To go where others have not been, and bring back the truth of it.”
-faster than the wind, its whole brain and body existing only as a mist around the sheer intensity of its purpose-
“I did not expect it to be this soon. But Om guided my steps. And now that we have the Cenobiarchy, we shall . . . make use of it.”
Somewhere out on the hillsides the eagle swooped, picked something up, and strove for height . . .
“I'm just a novice, Lord Vorbis. I am not a bishop, even if everyone calls me one.”
“You will get used to it.”
It sometimes took a long time for an idea to form in Brutha's mind, but one was forming now. It was something about the way Vorbis was sitting, something about the edge in his voice.
Vorbis was afraid of him.
Why me? Because of the desert? Who would care? For all I know, it was always like this-probably it was Ossory's ass that carried him in the wilderness, who found the water, who kicked a lion to death.
Because of Ephebe? Who would listen? Who would care? He is the Prophet and the Cenobiarch. He could have me killed just like that. Anything he does is right. Anything he says is true.
Fundamentally true.
“I have something to show you that may amuse you,” said Vorbis, standing up. “Can you walk?”
“Oh, yes. Nhumrod was just being kind. It's mainly sunburn.”
As they moved away, Brutha saw something he hadn't noticed before. There were members of the Holy Guard, armed with bows, in the garden. They were in the shade of trees, or amongst bushes-not too obvious, but not exactly hidden.