Blood of the Fold

Vema picked with a thumbnail at the disorderly edges in the stack of reports awaiting her attention. "Yes." She abandoned her official tone. "What I learned, Philippa, is that these young men, these wizards, are going to be sent out into a world that will test them. The Creator wants us to determine if we have taught them to endure with integrity the pain they will see, and feel." She tapped her chest. "In here. We must determine if they can make the painful choices the Creator's light sometimes requires. That is the meaning of the test of pain. Then" ability to endure torture tells us nothing of their heart, their courage, or their compassion.

"You yourself, Philippa, have passed a test of pain. You would have fought to be Prelate. You've worked for hundreds of years toward the goal of being at least in serious contention. Events cheated you out of that chance, yet you have never said one bitter word to me, though you must feel the pain every time you look at me. Instead, you have done your best to advise me in the post, and have worked in the interest of the palace, despite that pain.

"Would I be better served had I insisted you be tested by torture to become my advisor? Would that have proven anything?"

Sister Philippa's cheeks had mantled. "I won't lie by pretending to agree with you, but at least I now understand that you have indeed been shoveling dirt out of the hole, and are not simply abandoning it as dry because you didn't want to sweat. I will carry out your directive at once, Verna."

Verna smiled. "Thank you, Philippa."

Philippa betrayed the slightest hint of a smile. "Richard created quite an upheaval around here. I thought he was going to try to kill us all, and he turns out to have been a greater friend to the palace than any wizard in three thousand years."

Verna barked a laugh. "If you only knew how many times I had to pray for the strength not to strangle him."

As Philippa left, Verna could see through the door into the outer office that Millie was awaiting permission to enter and do the cleaning. Verna stretched with a yawn, picked up the report she had set aside, and went to the door. She waved Millie into her office as she turned her attention to her two administrators, Sisters Dulcinia and Phoebe.

Before Verna could speak, Sister Dulcinia stood with a stack of reports. "If you're ready. Prelate, we have these in order for you."

Verna took the stack, about the weight of an infant, and rested it on a hip. "Yes, all right, thank you. It's late. Why don't you two be off."

Sister Phoebe shook her head. "I don't mind, Prelate. I enjoy the work, and — "

"And tomorrow is another long day of it. I won't have you nodding off because you don't get enough sleep. Now, be off, the both of you."

Phoebe scooped up a sheaf of papers, probably to take to her own office so she could continue working. Phoebe seemed to think that they were in a paper race; whenever she suspected there was even a remote chance Verna might actually catch up, she worked frantically, producing more of the stuff, almost as if by magic. Dulcinia plucked her cup of tea from the desk, leaving the papers. She worked at a measured pace, never lowering herself to scrambling to stay ahead of Vema, but she still managed to produce stacks of reports, sorted and annotated, almost at will. Neither needed to fear that Verna would catch up with them; every day set her further behind.

Both Sisters bade their farewells, offering their hope that the Creator would grant the Prelate a restful sleep.

Verna waited until they had reached the outer door. "Oh, Sister Dulcinia, I have a little matter I'd like you to take care of tomorrow."

"Of course, Prelate. What is it?"

Verna placed the report she had brought on Dulcinia's desk where it would be the first thing she would see when she sat down in the morning. "A request for support from a young woman and her family. One of our young wizards is to be a father."

Phoebe squealed. "Oh, that's wonderful! We pray that, with the Creator's blessing, it will be a boy, and have the gift. There hasn't been one born with the gift in the city since.. well, I can't even remember the last time. Maybe this time..»

Verna's scowl finally brought her to silence. Verna turned her attention to Sister Dulcinia. "I want to see this young woman, and the young man responsible for her condition. Tomorrow, you will arrange an appointment. Perhaps her parents should be there as well, since they are requesting assistance."

Sister Dulcinia, a blank expression on her face, leaned in a little. "Is there a problem, Prelate?"

Verna hiked the load of reports up higher on her hip. "I should say there is. One of our young men got the woman pregnant,"

Sister Dulcinia set her tea down on the corner of the desk as she took a step closer. "But Prelate, we allow our charges to go into the city for this very reason. It not only lets them dissipate their impulses so they may devote themselves to their studies, but it also, on occasion, nets us one with the gift."