Zeb was curt. ‘This tears it. Our reliefs will be along in ten minutes; we’ve got to figure this out in less time than that. Well?’
Our suggestions were all impractical to the point of being ridiculous, but Zeb let us make them-then spoke straight to the point. ‘Listen to me, it’s no longer just a case of trying to help Judith and you out of your predicament. As soon as Snotty is missed, we-all four of us-are in mortal danger of the Question. Right?’
‘Right,’ I agreed unwillingly.
‘But nobody has a plan?’
None of us answered. Zeb went on, ‘Then we’ve got to have help . . . and there is only one place we can get it. The Cabal.’
3
‘The Cabal?’ I repeated stupidly. Judith gave a horrified gasp. ‘Why . . . why, that would mean our immortal souls! They worship Satan!’
Zeb turned to her. ‘I don’t believe so.’ She stared at him. ‘Are you a Cabalist?’
‘No.’
‘Then how do you know?’
‘And how,’ I insisted, ‘can you ask them for help?’
Magdalene answered. ‘I am a member-as Zebadiah knows.’ Judith shrank away from her, but Magdalene pressed her with words. ‘Listen to me, Judith. I know how you feel-and once I was as horrified as you are at the idea of anyone opposing the Church. Then I learned-as you are learning-what really lies behind this sham we were brought up to believe in.’ She put an arm around the younger girl. ‘We aren’t devil worshipers, dear, nor do we fight against God. We fight only against this self-styled Prophet who pretends to be the voice of God. Come with us, help us fight him-and we will help you. Otherwise we can’t risk it.’
Judith searched her face by the faint light from the portal. ‘You swear that this is true? The Cabal fights only against the Prophet and not against the Lord Himself?’
‘I swear, Judith.’
Judith took a deep shuddering breath. ‘God guide me,’ she whispered. ‘I go with the Cabal.’
Magdalene kissed her quickly, then faced us men. ‘Well?’
I answered at once, ‘I’m in it if Judith is,’ then whispered to myself, ‘Dear Lord, forgive me my oath-I must!’
Magdalene was staring at Zeb. He shifted uneasily and said angrily, ‘I suggested it, didn’t I? But we are all damned fools and the Inquisitor will break our bones.’
There was no more chance to talk until the next day. I woke from bad dreams of the Question and worse, and heard Zeb’s shaver buzzing merrily in the bath. He came in and pulled the covers off me, all the while running off at the mouth with cheerful nonsense. I hate having bed clothes dragged off me even when feeling well and I can’t stand cheerfulness before breakfast; I dragged them back and tried to ignore him, but he grabbed my wrist. ‘Up you come, old son! God’s sunshine is wasting. It’s a beautiful day. How about two fast laps around the Palace and in for a cold shower?’
I tried to shake his hand loose and called him something that would lower my mark in piety if the ear picked it up. He still hung on and his forefinger was twitching against my wrist in a nervous fashion; I began to wonder if Zeb were cracking under the strain. Then I realized that he was tapping out code.
‘B-E-N-A-T-U-R-A-L,’ the dots and dashes said, ‘S-H-O-W – N-O – S-U-R-P-R-I-S-E – W-E – W-I-L-L – B-E -C-A-L-L-E-D – F-O-R – E-X-A-M-I-N-A-T-I-O-N – D-U-RI-N-G – T-H-E – R-E-C-R-E-A-T-I-O-N – P-E-R-I-O-D -T-H-I-S – A-F-T-E-R-N-O-O-N’
I hoped I showed no surprise. I made surly answers to the stream of silly chatter he had kept up all through it, and got up and went about the mournful tasks of putting the body back in shape for another day. After a bit 1 found excuse to lay a hand on his shoulder and twitched out an answer: ‘0-K -I- U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-N-D’
The day was a misery of nervous monotony. I made a mistake at dress parade, a thing I haven’t done since beast barracks. When the day’s duty was finally over I went back to our room and found Zeb there with his feet on the air conditioner, working an acrostic in the New York Times. ‘Johnnie my lamb,’ he asked, looking up, ‘what is a six-letter word meaning “Pure in Heart”?’