Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [63]
He fixed me with a shrewd look, and I warned myself inwardly against overplaying my hand. “I expect you have many questions.” He took a seat in the straight-backed chair, indicating the stool with a nod. “Let us see if I might answer some of them before we begin.”
I sat obediently, wondering if this was some sort of trick.
The Patriarch saw the uncertainty on my face. “Allow me to speculate,” he said gently. “Surely you must wonder how I knew of your existence, your nature, and your history. Is that fair to say?”
I nodded. “Aye, my lord.”
He stroked the sheaves of paper in his lap. “Are you aware of the prophecy that Yeshua will return to establish his kingdom in the north?”
I nodded again.
“Very good.” He gazed into the distance. “When I was a child, I believed that Vralia had done everything possible to make ready for his return. Every day, I awaited it; and yet it did not come. As a man, I began to doubt. I sought answers. In my quest, I turned to men of great wisdom and discipline.” His expression turned stern. “Are you aware that there was a schism in the Vralian Church of Yeshua?”
I shook my head.
“Yes, indeed.” The Patriarch nodded, half to himself. “It came about after the death of Avraham ben David, the Rebbe who counseled the mighty Grand Prince Tadeuz Vral in the aftermath of his historic victory and shepherded the birth of the Church of Yeshua.”
It struck a distant chord of memory within me. “Was he the priest who granted sanctuary to Berlik?”
“Exactly so!” His eyes shone, his gaze returning to me. “Berlik of the Maghuin Dhonn, Berlik the Cursed. Is he your ancestor?”
I shrugged. “All of the Maghuin Dhonn are kin in some way. We are a scarce folk.”
“So you are,” he agreed. “Scarce and secretive.”
I was confused. “I don’t understand.”
Pyotr Rostov lifted a finger. “Patience, child. I am telling you a tale.” A deep solemnity returned to his features. “In his last years, when he was old and ailing, Avraham ben David wrote a series of essays, memoirs of his life. One infamous tract centers around his encounter with Berlik the Cursed, and the many discussions they had.”
“Oh?” I murmured.
He leaned forward, like a man uttering a confidence. “It is called Conversations with a Heretic Saint.”
I still didn’t understand.
The Patriarch of Riva leaned back in his chair, obviously feeling he had made his point clear. “That is the tract that led to the Great Schism,” he said in a satisfied tone. “For all that he was a great man, the Rebbe Avraham ben David faltered in the face of his mortality. The path to God’s grace is a straight and narrow one. In his final days, the Rebbe expressed regrets for helping make it so in Vralia.”
I blinked. “Because he was kind?”
He raised his voice like thunder. “Because he was weak and fearful!”
I forced myself to breathe slowly and deeply. “Forgive me, my lord. I do not understand why you are angry with this man.”
“No.” With an effort, he controlled himself. “No, of course not. Suffice it to say that from that day forward, the Church was divided. Tadeuz Vral’s heirs embraced a broader path toward the faith. It is only in the far east of Vralia, where greater discipline was necessary to enforce order, that they remember it is not meant to be an easy path to tread.”
“Why?” I asked honestly.
Pyotr Rostov ignored the question. “Thus began my interest in your mother’s folk,” he said in a conversational manner. “Your people. Berlik’s folk. The bear-witches of the Maghuin Dhonn. I was intrigued by the fact that they had gone so deep into hiding. For three generations… nothing.”
“We were not in hiding, exactly,” I murmured. “It is the way we live. We are a reclusive folk as well as a scarce one.”
“You’re not,” he observed. “But then, you’re a half-blood. No matter.” He waved the issue away. “I’ll come to your father’s people in time. You know, there is very, very little written or known about the Maghuin Dhonn. And yet one bear-witch managed to change the entire course of the Vralian Church.”
Since I didn’t know what to say, I held my tongue.
“For all their conversations,