My blade gleamed through an arc. “Stow the crap, Marmiadon. The solitary innocent in this whole miserable business is a three‑year‑old girl, and she’s been snatched into hell.”
His mouth fell wide. His eyes frogged.
“Start blabbing,” I said. w
For a while he couldn’t get words out. Then, in complete horror: “No. Impossible. I would never, never?”
“How about your fellow priests? Which of them?”
“None. I swear it. Can’t be.” I pricked his throat with the knife point. He shuddered. “Please. Let me know what happened. Let me help.”
I lowered the blade, shifted to a sitting position,, rubbed my brow, and scowled. This wasn’t according, to formula. “See here,” I accused him, “you did your best to disrupt my livelihood. When my life itself is busted apart, what am I supposed to think? If you’re not responsible, you’d better give me a lot of convincing.”
The initiate gulped. “I . . . yes, surely. I meant no harm. What you were doing, are doing?it’s sinful. You’re damning yourselves and aiding others to do likewise. The Church can’t stand idle. More of its ministers volunteer to help than don’t.”
“Skip the sermon,” I ordered. Apart from everything else, I didn’t want him working up enough to stop being dominated by me. “Stick to events. You were sent to abet that mob.”
“No. Not‑ Well, I was on the list of volunteers. When this occasion arose, I was the one allowed to go. But not to . . . do what you say . . . instead to give aid, counsel, spiritual guidance?and, well, yes, defend against possible spells?Nothing else! You were the ones who attacked.”
“Sure, sure. We began by picketing, and when that didn’t work. We started on trespass, vandalism, blockade, terrorizing?Uh‑huh. And you were so strictly acting as a private citizen that when you failed, your superiors comforted you and you’re back at your regular work already.”
“My penance is for the sin of anger,” he said.
A tiny thrill ran along my spine. We’d reached a significant item. “You aren’t down here simply because you got irritated with us,” I said. “What’d you actually do?’
Fear seized him afresh. He raised strengthless hands. “Please. I can’t have?No.” I brought my knife close again. He shut his eyes and said fast: “In my wrath when you were so obdurate, I laid a curse on your group. The Curse of Mabon. My reverend superiors?I don’t know how they knew what I’d done, but adepts have abilities?When I returned here, I was taxed with my sin. They told me the consequences could be grave. No more. I wasn’t told there . . . there’d been any. Were there really?”
“Depends,” I said. “What is this curse?”
“No spell. You do understand the distinction, don’t you? A spell brings paranatural forces to, to bear, by using the laws of goetics. Or it summons nonhuman beings or?It’s the same principle as using a gun, any tool, or whistling up a dog, Mr. Matuchek. A prayer is different. It’s an appeal to the Highest or His cohorts. A curse is nothing except a formula for asking Them to, well, punish somebody. They do it if They see fit?it’s Them alone?”
“Recite it.”
“Absit omen! The danger!”
“You just got through saying it’s harmless in itself.”
“Don’t you know? Johannine prayers are different from Petrine. We’re the new dispensation, we’ve been given special knowledge and divine favor, the words we use have a potency of their own. I can’t tell what would happen if I said them, even without intent, under uncontrolled conditions like these.”
That was very possibly right, I thought. The essence y of Gnosticism in the ancient world had been a search for power through hidden knowledge, ultimately power, over God Himself. Doubtless Marmiadon was sincere in denying his church had revived that particular concept. But he hadn’t progressed to adept status; the, final secrets had not been revealed to him. I thought reluctantly, that he wasn’t likely to make it, either, being at heart not a bad little guy.
My mind leaped forward. Let’s carry on that idea, I thought in the space of half a second. Let’s assume the founders of modern Gnosticism did make so discoveries that gave them capabilities not known before, results that convinced them they were exert direct influence on the Divine. Let’s further suppose they were mistaken?deceived?because, hang it, the notion that mortals can budge Omnipotence is unreasonable. What conclusion do these premises lead us to? This: that whether they, know it or not, the blessings and curses of the Johannines are in fact not prayers, but peculiarly subtle and powerful spells.