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think we could manufacture a quantum black hole but we fear to do it on a
planet's surface."
Father Al tried not to stare.
"Indeed," Father Cotterson commiserated. "I shudder to think of the effects of so
steep a gravity-gradient, Brother; and I've no wish to find myself atop a sudden
new volcano! Nay, I fear the experiment will have to wait till we've access to
space flight."
Brother Chronopolis turned to Father Al. "Father, when thou dost depart
Gramarye& "
"Well, I could not perform the experiment myself." Father Al smiled. "I do be an
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anthropologist, not a physicist. Yet where I can provide aid, I will rejoice to do
so."
"The rest is for the Abbot to consider," Father Cotterson said firmly.
Manufacture quantum black holes? The DDT's best scientists still thought they
couldn't exist! Either the Gramarye monks were very mistaken or very
advanced. There was a way to find out& Father Al said casually, "Hast thou
made progress in molecular circuitry?"
The whole room was silent in an instant; every eye was fastened to him. "Nay,"
breathed Brother Chronopolis, "canst thou make a circuit of a molecule?"
Well. They were very far behind, in some things. "Not I, myself. Yet I do know
that 'tis done; they do fashion single crystalline molecules that can perform all
the functions of& " What was that ancient term? Oh, yes& "& an whole
integrated-circuit chip."
"But thou knowest not the fashion of it?"
"I fear I do not."
" Tis enough, 'tis enough." Brother Feldspar held up a quieting palm. "We know
it can be done, now; 'twill not be long ere we do it."
Somehow, Father Al didn't doubt that for a minute.
"A most excellent evening, indeed," Father Cotterson sighed as he opened the
oaken door and ushered Father Al in. "Thy presence did stimulate discussion
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wonderfully, Father."
" 'Twas fascinating, Father especially that account of the nun who doth surgery
without opening the body."
"Well, 'tis only the mending of burst blood vessels, and the massaging of hearts
thus far," Father Cotterson reminded him. "Yet it doth hold great promise. I trust
this cell will be to thy satisfaction, Father."
"Luxurious," Father Al breathed, looking around at the nine-by-twelve room
with bare plaster walls, a straw mattress on an oaken cot-frame, a wash-stand
and a writing-desk with athree-legged stool. "True woodis luxury indeed,
Father!"
"To us, 'tis the least expensive material," Father Cotterson said with a smile. "I'll
leave thee to thy devotions, then, Father."
"God be with thee this night, Father," Father Al returned, with a warm smile, as
Father Cotterson closed the door.
Then Father Al darted over to it, carefully pressing his ear against the wood.
Faintly, he heard a key turn in a lock and all his earlier forebodings came
flooding back. Disappointment stabbed him; he'd found himself liking the
monks' company so well that he'd hoped his suspicions were unfounded, then
had become almost certain it was only his own paranoia.
Not that locking him in his cell proved they intended to imprison him, and not let
him see the rest of Gramarye. In fact, the Abbot might be delighted to have him
visit Rod Gallowglass.
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But he also might not.
So Father Al charitably decided to avoid putting him to the test. Accordingly, he
waited two hours, after which all the Brothers must certainly have been snoring
on their cots. Then he took out his vest-pocket tool-kit, picked the huge old lock,
and slipped down darkened hallways, as silently as a prayer. He drifted through
the colonnade like a wraith of incense, found a ladder and a rope, and slipped
silently over the wall.
They were such wonderful monks. It was so much better to remove temptation
from their path.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"All sleep, except Elidor," Magnus said, glowering.
He sat on the edge of a massive four-poster bed opposite a fireplace as tall as
Rod. Tapestries covered cold stone walls; Rod paced on a thick carpet.
"He was& " Cordelia burst out; but Gwen clapped a hand over her mouth, and
stared at Magnus. He looked up at her, surprised, then nodded quickly, and
closed his eyes, sitting very straight. He held it for a few minutes, then relaxed.
"I'm sorry, Mama; I was carried away."
"No great harm is done," Gwen assured him. "They heard only that one sentence,
and they cannot do so much with that."
"Spies?" Rod frowned. "How many of them were there?"
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"Only the two," Gwen assured him. "One there, behind the knight on the tapestry
o'er the hearth thou seest that his eye is truly a hole? And one behind the panel
next the door, where there's a knot dropped out."
Rod nodded. "Milord Foidin likes back-up systems no doubt so he can check
them against each other, and make sure no one's lying. Well, it kinda goes along
with the rest of his devious personality; I think he's in the process of inventing
the police state." He turned to Magnus. "How long are they out for?"
"Till dawn," Magnus assured him, "or after."
Rod shook his head in amazement. "How does he do it so fast?"
Gwen shook her head, too. "I know not how he doth it at all."
"Oh, that's easy! It's just projective telepathy. You just think 'sleep' at 'em, right,
son?"
"Not really, Papa." Magnus frowned. "I just want them to sleep."
Rod shook his head again. "You must 'want' awfully loudly& Well! Can you tell
what Duke Foidin's thinking?"
"I shall!" Cordelia said promptly.
"No, thou shalt not!" Gwen pressed her hands over her daughter's ears. "Thou
shalt not soil so young a mind as thine; that man hath filth and muck beneath the
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