Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 04 - The Warlock Unlocked (v1.0) (html).html by Stasheff Christopher

Author:Stasheff, Christopher
Language: eng
Format: epub

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 04 - The Warlock Unlocked (v1.0) (html).html shave-pate, canst thou not tell my bearing?"

"I would, if I could see thee," Father Al muttered, and ambled patiently toward the new bush. Giggling, the girl moved with him.

"Nay, hither!" the voice commanded again, from yet another bush, off to his right and farther from the house. " Wilt thou come, I say!"

About then, Father Al began to get suspicious. The voice was plainly leading them away from the house, and he began to think this was no childish prank, but the work of some guardian who didn't trust strangers. "Nay, I'll go no farther!

I've come where thou hast said, not once, but several times! If thou dost wish that I should move another step, now show thyself, that I may see which way to step!"

"As thou wilt have it," the voice grumbled; and, suddenly, the form of a broad and portly man rose up and came around the bush. Its head was shaven in the tonsure, and it wore a brown monk's robe with a small yellow-handled screwdriver in the breast pocket.

Father Al stared.

The girl burst into a peal of laughter.

"Dost thou not know me, fellow?" the monk demanded. "Wilt thou not kneel to the Abbot of thine own Order?"

"Nay, that will I not," Father Al muttered. Father Cotter-son had said the Abbot was on his way back to the monastery, half a kingdom away—what would he be file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20krui...20Warlock%2004%20-%20The%20Warlock%20Unlocked.html (182 of 356)20-2-2006 21:35:38

Stasheff, Christopher - Warlock 04 - The Warlock Unlocked (v1.0) (html).html doing here, near a High Warlock's house, at that? Father Al's suspicions deepened, especially since he recognized an element out of folklore. So he began to whistle loudly, untied his rope belt, and took off his cassock. The witch-girl gasped and averted her eyes; then she looked back at him, staring.

"Friar!" the Abbot cried, scandalized. "Dost thou dis-robe before a woman?!! ?

… And what manner of garb is it thou wearest beneath?"

"Why, this?" Father Al sang, improvising a Gregorian chant. " Tis nought but the coverall all Cathodeans wear, which warms me in winter, and never doth tear."

He went back to whistling, turning his cassock inside-out.

The Abbot's voice took on a definite tone of menace. "What dost thou mean by this turning of thy coat? Dost thou seek to signify that thou'It side with the King against me?"

Interesting; Father Al hadn't known the old Church-State conflict was cropping up here. "Why, nay. It means only that…" (he put the monk's robe on again, wrong side out, and wrapped it about him) "… that I wish to see things as they truly are."

And before his eyes, the form of the abbot wavered, thinned, and faded, leaving only a stocky, two-foot-high man with a pug-nosed, berry-brown face, large eyes, brown jerkin, green hose, green cap with a red feather, and a smoldering expression. "Who ha' told thee, priest?" he growled. His gaze shifted to the witch-girl. "Not thou, surely! The witch-folk ever were my friends!"

The girl shook her head, opening her lips to answer, but Father Al forestalled her.

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