The Mystic Marriage Read Online Free Page A

aim.”
    The archbishop said dryly, “I see you have been studying Gaudericus.”
    Once again she looked for a trap—she recalled the stares and questions she’d received when hunting down that particular book. “It would have been difficult to do this without his work,” she acknowledged. Gaudericus and his circle had nearly caused a schism between those who viewed the mysteries purely as worship and those who saw them as granting power. Strangely enough, it had been the Protestant rejection of thaumaturgy that had saved Gaudericus from being condemned outright as a heretic. But there was still a fine line drawn between the mechanists and those with even less acceptable philosophies.
    The archbishop gathered the several series of diagrams into a stack and placed them at his right hand. “I will examine these further,” he said.
    Margerit stifled a protest. There were details, analyses that she couldn’t easily reproduce from memory. The notes from that last ceremony that Aukust presided over would be impossible to duplicate. She wished she’d thought to make copies. And yet this was what she’d hoped for: to be given a hearing and have her work acknowledged and tolerated. There had never been a reasonable expectation of more. The flaws in the Mauriz tutela would continue to haunt her, but she was learning to choose her battles.
    “Was there anything else, Your Grace?” The question was directed at Princess Annek.
    Her answer was deliberately casual and she waved one long-fingered hand as if to dismiss the matter. “Nothing of great importance. The Guild of Saint Adelruid would like permission to celebrate a new mystery in the cathedral.”
    The request should have been only for form’s sake. The Royal Guild was the most exclusive and prestigious of the lay guilds—certainly the most important of those sponsored by the cathedral. There would need to be good reason to deny it. Their private mysteries were their own affair, unlike the Mauriz tutela, which belonged to the cathedral.
    “And what would be the nature of this ceremony?”
    “Do you recall that unfortunate matter of the Atelpirt castellum ? The one that caused such a fuss back before I was confirmed as my father’s heir? We’ve reworked it. Or rather Maisetra Sovitre has. The basic structure is sound and it seems a good addition to the royal mysteries.”
    Margerit knew it was tactful of everyone not to mention the part she’d had in designing the original, treacherous version of that ceremony. The one that had ended with Iohennis Lutoz banished and Estefen Chazillen executed. This was her hope of redeeming that disaster: the adoption of the mystery as part of the divine protection of the realm.
    “As you wish,” he replied.
    It seemed an anticlimax: all the preparation, the courting of the dozzures to support her presence, the careful analysis and diagramming of her visions. But there had been two goals and both had been achieved. She had been presented to those who mattered as the princess’s thaumaturgist, with her work not dismissed outright, and her first great mystery would have its place on the calendar.
    * * *
    Finally released from the council chamber, Margerit looked around to find where Marken would be kicking his heels, waiting to escort her home. Her armin would have preferred to fulfill his duties by standing behind her throughout her ordeal, but that would not have been proper. His mandate did not extend to the council chamber, only to the streets and ballrooms where an unmarried heiress might need protection for her reputation and her person. But instead of his stolid bulk she saw a tall, slim figure in mannish riding clothes, rising from the window-bench opposite the door. The sight made her heart leap every time, even after so short an absence. “Barbara! I didn’t realize you were back.”
    “Only an hour or two. Did you think I’d leave you to face the dragons alone? I told Marken I’d see you home.” Barbara kissed her