Prison of Night

Veac straightened his shoulders. No monk could yield to fear and all had the right to be ambitious. It was only when that ambition became a thing of self rather than of aiding the unfortunate did it become a sin. And yet he had been close and could even have passed over the edge. The vision of Hope, the statues and items of price-avarice and pride of possession were both to be shunned. No monk could wear gems while others starved. No church could be built of gold while poverty reigned. Yet some things, while priceless, could not be sold.

"So we have an assassination," said Thotan. "Well, it isn't the first and I doubt if it will be the last, but monks are too scarce to be targets." He looked down at his massive hands. They were clenched-at times it was hard to be forgiving. "The question is-who wanted Eldon dead and why? We know how he was killed; the derelict who asked for help when he returned from the field. The man must have been waiting, primed, placed like a weapon ready to fire. Dead, of course?"

"He was dying when he arrived," said Biul. "He was washed and fed and given drugs to ensure rest and sleep. He never woke. Only after Eldon had been found did we investigate. It seems a natural death but, though old, he was strong and I grew suspicious. Tests showed the presence of poison. More from where it came. The rest you know."

The report which had been sent over the hybeam and which had brought him from a nearby world to make what investigation he could. As yet he had discovered nothing new.

"Gartok," he said. "He was cleared at the official inquiry, I know, but that was a casual affair. Anything more?" He pursed his lips as Veac told him about the man's attendance at the cremation, his salute. "Mercenaries are superstitious and he could have told you the truth. And what connection could there be between him and Eldon? Yet a man isn't killed without reason. If possible we must find it."

As a protection. As a warning to others who might be tempted to attack the monks and the Church which they served. And as a comfort to those same monks who would be bolstered by the assurance that to be humble was not to be weak.

Things Veac thought about as, later, he searched through Eldon's possessions. They were few-a monk owned only what he could carry, but each held some strong memory and each had helped to soften the harshness of the chamber in which he lived and slept. Light splintered from glass embedded in a polished scrap of wood, the edge of the mineral flecked so as to create a razor-sharp edge. Perhaps it had served as a razor or even as a scalpel. A scrap of fabric bore an elaborate design of knots. A piece of stone had been rubbed into a smooth complexity of curves and concavities over which the fingers traveled in sensuous caress; a worry-stone striped with rippled rainbows. A painting done in oils of a young man with a fresh, open face. Eldon himself? Veac doubted it, few monks wanted to be reminded of their past and the portrait was probably that of a relative or an old associate. Putting it down he looked about the chamber. There had been something else, he remembered, a book in which the old man had written from time to time. A record of his achievements, he had once explained. A slim journal containing fifty years of his life.

Veac couldn't find it. Searching he found a battered medical handbook, another containing a list of useful herbs together with illustrations and instructions as to preparation, a third which held a collection of poems. But the journal was not to be found.

Going to the door he opened it. Thotan had arrived accompanied by Audin and another. He waited outside for the room to be cleared, a small, slim man with liquid eyes and a skin like oiled chocolate.

"Brother Anz, a moment if you please." Veac stepped back into the chamber. When the other joined him he said, "Have you seen anyone enter or leave this room today? Anyone at all?"

"Yourself and, earlier, Brother Thotan."

"Anyone else?"

"A woman. She came to clean, I think, at least she carried a bucket and held a broom. But I only saw her as she walked along the corridor."

"Describe her," Veac nodded as the man obeyed. The woman was, as the monk had suspected, a cleaner-one of many volunteers probably on her way to the infirmary or kitchen and taking a short-cut through the living quarters. He would speak to her later and advise against her continuing the habit. "Thank you brother."

The book must have been lost somehow but, as Veac was turning toward the door, Anz said, "A moment, brother. I remember now. Before I saw the woman and before I had entered the passage a man passed me coming from this direction. I suppose he could have entered this room if he had wished but why he should eludes me. Perhaps he wanted an interview with yourself or Brother Biul. He was big with a scarred face and-"

"A moment!" Veac described Kars Gartok. "Yes?"

"It is possible. I only caught a glimpse but that could be the man."