A Question of Virtue

Rachel chose to believe that the deep gods had veiled Lefwith from understanding them. It was the only way she wouldn't laugh at him here and now. It was obvious that he thought himself discerning and clever. On the way out to the shore he'd told her of inquisitions in the cities, how the king's own brother had admitted his adultery under Lefwith's lash and accepted penance. Dozens burned for blasphemy or heresy or sacrilege. She'd never felt inspired to learn the differences between the three. Each and every whore and whoreson he'd set fire to had been innocent, at least of worshipping the deep gods. When someone lost their favor there were more obvious signs than a failure to produce evidence. They did not like to see their grudges carried out by priests.

"Are you satisfied?" asked Cador.

Clearly not. But Lefwith had thought he'd be able to spot a thread to pull at in their words, and he was much too dull. A child could've figured out their intentions. And he was a man of orthodoxy. The shield of polite society had been over him all his life. It had runted him. Now with his truth on his side and convinced of it in his heart he wasn't able to act on it. "Yes," he said.

Now Cador stood, holding his greatsword in one hand. "Good. Don't trouble me with this again, priest. I entertained it today in magnanimity. Your office does not allow you to make insults to your host." He leaped down from the rock, almost bowling Lefwith over, and strode back toward the castle. Rachel joined him without sparing a moment for the priest left in his dust.

"Just a waste of time," Cador spat when she arrived beside him.

"But now he thinks he doesn't have a leg to stand on," she said.

"I'll make sure he doesn't stand at all."

"Eventually."

Cador, in his typical huff, went on ahead of her. She went slowly on her way back to the castle, feeling Lefwith watching her. His suspicion was only one part of his fascination. Like many priests he'd tried to bury the desires of the body far away where they could touch him, but just one sight of Rachel had been enough to wake them. It had been so with men even before she had learned the secrets of the depths. When they were almost to the castle she felt him walking behind her. There wasn't any need to look to know that he had a question on his lips.

"Is there something more, priest?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Oh! Yes," muttered Lefwith, somehow surprised. "Your father was much concerned with the matter of... your virtue, my lady."

My lady, now, thought Rachel. _Is it that Cador isn't here, or that he wants to look warm, all of a sudden? _A simpleminded child would have seen through him. It was obvious what kind of man Lefwith was: a pretender who didn't realize it himself. "I'd thought my virtue was settled when I answered you about my faithfulness," she said cooly. If the man intended to waste her time she would ensure she wasted his as well.

"The virtue of the soul, yes. But of the body..." He looked ready to catch fire, and she wished she could have done it herself. But she still had use for him. He was one thorn she could use to split apart the armor of Sir John and his wouldbe heroes.