The kettle began to hiss, clouds of vapour puffing from the curved spout. Shielding his hands with a cloth, the Abbot poured the water into a second pot, in which he had spooned dried herbs. Placing the kettle in the hearth, he sat back in an old leather chair.
‘Now the Source very rarely speaks to us directly, and the question is: How do we know what is required? These matters are very complex. You chose to absent yourself from study, and soar across the Heavens. In doing so you rescued the spirit of a young girl and led her home to her abused body. Coincidence? I distrust coincidence. Therefore it is my belief, though I may be wrong, that the Source led you to her. And that is why she now haunts your mind. Your dealings with her are not yet concluded.’
‘You think I should seek her out?’
‘I do. Take yourself to the south wing library. There is a small cell beyond it. I will excuse you from all studies tomorrow.’
‘But how shall I find her again, Lord Abbot? She was a slave. She could be anywhere.’
‘Start with the man who was abusing her. You know his name – Collan. You know where he was planning to take her – Mashrapur. Let your spirit search begin there.’
The Abbot poured tea into two clay cups. The aroma was sweet and heady. ‘I am the least talented of all the priests,’ said Vintar sorrowfully. ‘Surely it would be better to pray for the Source to send someone stronger?’
The Abbot chuckled. ‘It is so strange, my boy. Many people say they wish to serve the Lord of All Peace. But in an advisory capacity: “Ah, my God, you are most wondrous, having created all the planets and the stars. However, you are quite wrong to choose me. I know this, for I am Vintar, and I am weak.” ‘
‘You mock me, father.’
‘Of course I mock you. But I do so with at least a modicum of love in my heart. I was a soldier, a killer, a drunkard, a womaniser. How do you think I felt when He chose me to become a member of the Thirty? And when my brother priests stood facing death, can you imagine my despair at being told I was the one who must survive? I was to be the new Abbot. I was to gather the new Thirty. Oh Vintar, you have much to learn. Find this girl. I rather believe that in doing so you will find something for yourself.’
The young priest finished his tea and stood. ‘Thank you, Father, for your kindness.’
‘You told me she has a husband who was searching for her,’ said the Abbot.
‘Yes. A man named Druss.’
‘Perhaps he will still be in Mashrapur.’
An hour later, in the bright sky above the city, the spirit of the young priest hovered. From here, despite the distance that made the buildings and palaces seem tiny, like the building bricks of an infant, he could feel the pulsing heart of Mashrapur, like a beast upon wakening; ravenous, filled with greed and lust. Dark emotions radiated from the city, filling his thoughts and swamping the purity he fought so hard to maintain. He dropped closer, closer still.
Now he could see the dock-workers strolling to work, and the whores plying the early-morning trade and the merchants opening their shops and stalls.
Where to begin? He had no idea.
For hours he flew aimlessly, touching a mind here, a thought there, seeking knowledge of Collan, Rowena or Druss. He found nothing save greed, or want, hunger or dissipation, lust or, so rarely, love.
Tired and defeated, he was ready to return to the Temple when he felt a sudden pull on his spirit, as if a rope had attached itself to him. In panic he tried to pull away, but though he used all his strength he was drawn inexorably down into a room where all the windows had been barred. An elderly woman was sitting before a red lantern. She gazed up at him as he floated just below the ceiling.
‘Ah, but you are a treat to these old eyes, my pretty,’ she said. Suddenly shocked, Vintar realised that his form was naked and he clothed himself in an instant in robes of white. She gave a dry laugh. ‘And modest too.’ The smile faded, and with it her good humour. ‘What are you doing here? Hmmm? This is my city, child.’