Count Scar - SA Read Online Free PDF

leave me in an instant. "The reverend abbot—does me great honor. But is this not an assignment for a more—a more seasoned brother?"
    "Some argued so. But the—the abbot thought otherwise, and so do I. You are about the same age as this new count. He will be coming into his situation feeling himself a stranger to everyone, so this fact may help you in winning his confidence. Moreover, there is reason to believe that the priest of our Order assigned to Peyrefixade should be an expert in the magic of divination, and I happen to know that subject has been one of your particular studies. It's a taxing branch of magic, one that requires a young healthy Magian like yourself. Moreover, the duke himself specifically requested you." The Provost gave his mirthless smile once more. "You must have made a surprisingly strong impression upon him during the period you served in his city a few years ago."
    Well that's done it, I told myself. Until Provost Balaam's last statement I had hoped I might yet persuade him to return to the abbot and the officers of the Order with my carefully reasoned arguments as to why I would be so much less suitable for this task than several other brothers whom I could readily name. But that was out of the question now. Our Order of the Three Kings had attained-whatever small security and prosperity it now enjoyed thanks principally to two great patrons: the late old Count of Peyrefixade and the duke himself.
    The good old count had supported us out of a genuine interest and belief in the possibilities of magic as a force for good, so long as its study and practice was conducted by men also sworn to holiness and living under the well-understood discipline of the cloister. But as for the duke, his reasons for doing anything were seldom either so single or so simple, and our Order had consequently found it well always to give the most serious consideration to any request from him—and indeed, to comply—unless some highly compelling spiritual objection could be produced.
    What conceivable action or virtue of mine the duke might have witnessed during my periodic attendance at his court, in an extremely junior capacity, to make him think of placing me at Peyrefixade was completely obscure to me. But it made no difference. Bowing my head and folding my hands in the posture proper to an obedient junior canon, I produced the only possible response, the one I'd so often heard given by many a greater figure than myself: "Then of course it must be as our lord duke wishes."
    "Exactly," said old Balaam, and I almost thought I glimpsed the hint of a smile tugging for a moment at the corner of his flat mouth. "Mark well that you take care always to give such politic answers once you have taken up your new duties."
    "And when am I expected to go take up those duties, my father?"
    "Why, tomorrow, of course!" Provost Balaam declared, looking as if my question was the most surprising thing he'd heard in the last twelvemonth. "The weather augeries look excellent for the next three days, so there is nothing to delay you. Moreover, it would be best if you were with this new Count Caloran as quickly as possible."
    He turned his head at the sound of the bells announcing nones. "We must be off to the holy office now. As soon as that's over, go pack your belongings and other things and make the preparations for your journey. Come see me again tomorrow morning before you depart and I shall advise you concerning a few practical matters you will need to know." He rose briskly and stepped over to his little stand to wash the inevitable ink stains from his long wiry fingers, nodding in dismissal. I started to go out, but the sight of the crucifix that hung above his wash stand, or perhaps a glimpse he caught of something in my face, caused him to call after me. "Oh, and Brother Melchior—?"
    "Yes, my father?" I said, turning back.
    "The Order asks that you assume this service for its welfare, but also because it truly believes it will