Rillibee shivered, unable to answer. “Let me die,” the parrot cried from the top of a ruined wall, fluttering its gray wings.
‘The boy saw his family die of it,” Mainoa said hastily. “Don’t ask him. Instead, think on this. Elsewhere, something killed the Arbai slowly. I know that here something killed them quickly. I know that men are dying, everywhere, and that no cure exists. So much I know. That, and the fact that Sanctity denies it all.”
Her jaw dropped. Was he saying that the current plague had happened before? “What do you know about it here, on Grass?”
“We at the Friary seem to have escaped it, thus far. What else is there to know?”
“How many have died of it here on Grass?”
He shrugged. “Who can count deaths that may be hidden? Sanctity says there is no plague. Not now. Since they deny plague exists, they do not tell us if anyone dies of it. And, since there is none now,
Sanctity finds it expedient to deny that there could ever have been plagues in the past. Acceptable Doctrine is that the Arbai died of ennui. Or of some environmentally related cause. But not of plague. ‘Not only are there no devils now, there never were,’ says Doctrine. Still, those of us who came from outside know that plague did exist, once. And devils, too.”
“You think that devils exist?” she asked with a sidelong look at Father Sandoval, whose mouth was pursed in distaste at this subject. “Have existed always, perhaps? Waiting for intelligent creatures to reach the stars? Waiting to strike them down, for hubris, perhaps?”
“Perhaps.”
“You have not answered. Will you come see my husband?”
He cocked his head again, staring over her shoulder at something only he could see. “If you send a car for me, ma’am, I’ll come, of course, since it would be discourteous to do otherwise You might want to consult me about the gardens at Opal Hill. I helped plant them, after all. It would be an understandable request. If you ask my superiors to send me for any reason, likely they won’t.”
She was silent for a moment, thinking. “Are you very loyal to your superiors, Brother Mainoa?”
Rillibee/Lourai snorted, a tiny snort. Brother Mainoa gave him a reproving glance.
“I was given to Sanctity, ma’am. I had no say in the matter. Brother Lourai, here, he was given, too. And then, when we didn’t like it, we were brought here. We had no say in that, either. I don’t recollect ever being asked if I was loyal.”
Father Sandoval cleared his throat and said firmly, “Thank you for your time, Brothers.”
“And yours, Father.”
“I’ll send a car,” Marjorie promised. “Within the next few days. Will you be here?”
“Now that we’re here, we’ll stay until someone makes us go back, Lady Westriding.”
“How is it, Brother, that you knew who I was, though we had not met before?”
“Ah. A friend of mine has been interested in Opal Hill. Your name came up.” He smiled vaguely. “During our discussion.”
The Brothers watched the aircar leave and then returned to their quarters, where Brother Mainoa took out his journal from a hidey-hole and wrote his comments upon the happenings of the day.
“Do you always do that?” asked Rillibee/Lourai.
“Always,” the older man sighed. “If I die, Lourai, look in these pages for anything I know or suspect.”
“If you die.” The other smiled.
Mainoa did not return the smile. “If I die. And if I die, Lourai, hide this book. They will kill you, too, if they find it in your possession.
Tony heard the word “plague” as he would have heard a thunderclap. The word began to resonate in his mind, causing other ideas to reverberate with them. Plague. One had heard of it, of course. One whispered about it. Sanctity denied there was any. For the first time he wondered why Sanctity had to continually deny something that did not exist. Why had his father gone to Sanctity and met with the Hierarch about plague?
Plague. He had seen no signs of it here. No one even talked of it, here. Tony spent a good deal of time with Sebastian Mechanic down at the village, learning the local way of things, meeting the people, getting to know them, but no one had mentioned plague. Illness, yes. The people had illnesses. Things went wrong with old bones and joints. Hearts wore out. There was very little lung trouble, though. The air breathed cleanly and caused no problems here. There were few if any infectious diseases. They had been wiped out in this small population, and the quarantine officers at the port kept Commons clean.