“Where did these come from?”
“A weathered and wrinkled fellow called . . . Marina, apparently,” Erik answered. “Your bishop didn’t like him much. Do we take them off?”
The doctor-priest shook his head. “No. I wonder if he knows what he is dealing with? Someone . . . a woman . . . has imbued those with a great healing and soothing power. I sense the work of one of the neutrals . . . one of the ancient nature spirits about them. They may do more good than I can. Now. This man has been spiritually attacked as well as physically hurt. The physical hurt is great, but the spiritual hurt is greater. His life is like a guttering candle flame. This not a consecrated place, so we will need circles of exclusion and the evocation of guardians to secure and defend him. Are either of you skilled in the working of magic?”
Both Erik and Manfred hastily shook their heads.
The doctor-priest sighed; shook his head. The gesture seemed one of slight puzzlement. “Your auras . . . Never mind. Take these.”
He dug into his bag and came up with a censer, salt, and a bottle of water. He hesitated a moment. “Water. Yes.” He looked carefully at Erik. “Water. There is much latent force in you.” He turned on Manfred. “And you can take the salt. It is . . . right. Neither of you must ever take fire or air.” The enigmatic doctor-priest then placed candlesticks around the Venetian lord.
“Fiat lux!” The doctor-priest’s voice, so gentle a few moments before, now commanded.
And there was light. The censer in his hand began to smoke.
“Let that which cannot abide, depart! In the name of Jesus, in the name of the Holy Spirit . . .”
He led them, praying, in the ninefold circle . . . of smoke, sprinkled salt, and water.
Then, when that was done and they were enclosed in a wall of smoke, they went to work under the doctor-priest’s direction. First unguent, then poultices and then, as gently as possible, they rolled Calenti onto a blanket the doctor-priest had brought. As they worked the priest led them through various psalms.
Father Belgio called on names of power, evoking guardianship and protection on the burned lord. Then he led them in thanking and dismissing the Guardians and the wall of shifting smoke was gone . . . to reveal Abbot Sachs, Sister Ursula, several knights, and three people who were obviously Venetian nobility. All of whom wore expressions of irritation, worry, and perplexity in varying degrees.
“What in Heaven’s name have you been doing in there?” demanded Sachs.
“God’s work, brother,” answered Father Belgio tranquilly. “Lord Calenti can be moved now. It is God’s will that he should live, at least for now. And these brave knights saw to it that he was spared.”
“But what were you doing?” demanded Sister Ursula. “We tried to reach you, to break in, but to no avail! Abbot Sachs and I are two of the most skilled practitioners of Christian magic in the Servants of the Holy Trinity!”
Father Belgio smiled tiredly. “I am a simple healer, and one whose gift it is to be sensitive to certain occult forces. A minor magician only.” He looked at Erik and Manfred. “I can only think that some of the primitive nature forces lent their aid. They are capricious . . . And I am exhausted. Can some stout fellows be called to carry poor Lord Calenti to the chapel? I think it best that he be nursed there.”
“Will he live?” demanded Ursula. She shuddered. “Burns are dreadful. I fear them.” Manfred noticed that the nun’s hands were balled into such tight fists that her knuckles were strained white. She looked ready to faint. It was the first time he’d seen the ice-woman display as much as a trace of any emotion.
Belgio nodded. “If it is God’s will.”
“We will accompany him to the chapel and pray. It was surely the hand of the Lord and his apostle Paul that brought the Knights of Holy Trinity here today,” said Sachs.
“Actually, it was that letter from Lord Calenti, Abbot. The one you thought was a trap,” said Erik, yawning.