Chapter 8 #2
I blink, thinking. Okay, so the Holy Grail is a myth. Not one that comes from the Bible, one invented later. Fair enough, I guess.
"But then, so why look for it," I ask, out loud, "if it doesn't exist?"
"Ah," Emrys says, smiling, "but I didn't say it doesn't exist. Did I?
" He drops the chalk back in the metal tray, dusts off his fingers, clasps his hands at his back, and starts to pace back and forth.
“No, I can assure you, it is very, very real.
I have seen it. Or I will see it, depending on your perspective.
From where I stand in time, I've already watched you become what they seek.”
I still can’t believe this. “You're saying you've seen the future."
"No, no.” He shakes his head. "I'm saying I've lived it. I remember it the way you remember yesterday. Except for me, your 'tomorrow' is my yesterday, and my tomorrow is your..." He makes a helpless gesture. "It's confusing. Even for me."
"But if you know what happens," I say, my heart racing, "if you've already seen it—then what do I do?”
“That, Ms. Vale, is the tragedy of it." He rubs his temples.
"I remember that you did unlock it. I remember the triumph, the power, the moment of transformation.
But the path between here and there?" He looks at me with something like despair.
"It's fog. Beautiful, frustrating fog. The harder I try to remember the specifics—the methodology, the steps, what triggered it—the more it slips away. Like trying to remember a dream. But when the future fails me, I look to the past.”
I frown.
“To texts,” he says. “Writings, records, holy books and magical treatises. I can study—we can study—and it is through study that we discover the truth that exists above and beyond time.”
My brain turns this over and over, over and over, like a rock tumbler. “So you’re saying,” I say slowly, “You’re saying that I’m the Grail, but you don’t know what that means, or what I’m supposed to do with that information, and the only way to figure it out is to…”
“Read books,” Emrys says. “Yes.”
I exhale hard. Stare at the ground.
“You’re sure it’s not just a cup?”
Emrys chuckles. “Would that it were so simple. No, my theory is it's something else entirely. A vessel only in the broadest sense. Something, or someone," he darts a glance at me, "that refreshes, restores, renews, and disposes of what must die so that new green roots can sprout."
“I’m…not following," I admit.
“It is difficult to follow,” he agrees. “The path is thorny and split with many forks.” He sighs, almost weary.
“It is only my theory, Ms. Vale, but it is a sound one, I think.
Or thought, as we worked our way through that corpus of now-departed manuscripts.
I think, in brief, that there is something in the magical world—in its traditions and rites, in its stories and myths—that is the Grail, or became known as the Grail, once our chivalrous friends married it into the Christian tradition.
I think that truth lies hidden and defined in the overlap and correspondence of writings that stretch through many centuries.
What I don't know, and what you, I suspect, don't know either, is what or how that power can be made manifest."
"Power," I echo. I close my eyes for a long blink. Magic is real. Miracles are real. But superpowers? I just…don't think so. I don't have anything like that.
"The fire," Emrys says shortly. "You didn't set it."
"I know I didn't," I say. "And I'm glad you believe that I didn't, but—"
He shakes his head swiftly. "Not this one. Here. Not just this one. At home. Your church, St. Catherine's."
My heart hammers. It takes me a moment to find my voice, and when I do, it's small. "No," I say, the word wavering on my lips. "I didn't, but..."
Once again, I hear Jessie's words.
“But then how did it happen?”
"That," Emrys says, his eyes sparkling, "is what I mean to find out. If," he adds, "you'll join me in my quest."
I give my head a little shake. "What?"
"Would you like to be enrolled back at Caliburn University, Ms. Vale?"
My jaw hangs open a little bit. "I... I mean..." I swallow hard. All things being equal? “Yes," I say, the first time I've admitted it, maybe even to myself. "But that’s…not possible."
Emrys chuckles. "I assure you, it's a simple matter of paperwork. Nothing we couldn't straighten out in an afternoon."
I twist my fingers together. "But the tuition—"
He waves a hand. "Funded," he says. "You have a generous benefactor in Luther Pendragon. I've explained to him the situation."
A shiver runs down my spine. I don't like this, don't like the idea of being indebted to him, especially since the last time I saw him, his face was contorted with rage, thinking that I'd single-handedly torched thousands of irreplaceable manuscripts.
"I guess I can't object, then," I say lamely. “I mean, you’ve seen the future, right? You know what I’m going to do.”
Emrys shakes his head. “On the contrary. Certainly you can object. I won't accept your presence as an unwilling partner. A troubled mind cannot be an open one. A heavy conscience is too pressing a burden for the voyage ahead. Or behind, as it were.” He smiles. “Ms. Vale, I’ve spent centuries—from my perspective—pondering the question of free will. And all I can say is in every action, in every moment, there is one thing humans cherish above all others.”
I wait a beat. “Which is?”
“Sovereignty,” he answers simply. “The ability to choose for oneself. It is that, not desperation, not obligation, that opens us to the broadest and most glorious possibilities. So I ask you again: do you want to return and study at this university?"
I clench my fists.
I think of all the reasons I shouldn't. The students that likely still hate me. The invisible strings that must be attached to any kind of scholarship. The four fencers in Camlann House and every confusing, wrenching, furious feeling they make me feel.
And yet, on the other side...
On the other side is all I've ever wanted.
The freedom to study, to read, to learn, to pursue something that really matters. And wrestle with unpacking and unpuzzling it. Something that no one else can do. Something that I get to do.
I can’t refuse. I won’t.
"I would love to," I say, "if you'll have me."
"Marvelous!" Emrys claps. "Absolutely marvelous. I am beyond delighted to hear it. I'll dash something off for the registrar." He picks up a pen, scribbles a few notes on a pad of paper. “and we’ll set you right. I'll have you in an independent study, along with your erstwhile compatriot, and—
"Wait," I interrupt him. "I...what about them?" I blurt out. "The four of them just following me around all the time? Is that part of this, too?”
Emrys presses his lips together. "I think you'll find them to be upstanding protectors, Ms. Vale, whether you want them to be or not.
And as far as this mystery goes, they are the most ardent pursuers of its resolution that walk the earth today.
If what you need is undisturbed time and space to read your way into the truth, then they will give you that. That is their oath-sworn duty."
I sit with that for a long time.
"All right," I say, and let out a deep, long breath.
“I guess…”
I shake my head, clutch my skirt in my hands. "I guess I don't know what to do now. I just get back to studying, like nothing's changed?"
Emrys chuckles. "My dear, everything has changed. So naturally, you must get back to studying." He hands me the slip of paper. "I'll see you Tuesday. Don’t be late.”
When I leave Emrys's classroom, I almost walk into someone. Lanz.
"Oh," he says. "Gwenna."
"Who else?” I say, maybe a little too sharply. "Sorry. I just…” I look around. He's alone, no one else in the corridor.
"I'm taking over," he says. "We do all still have to eat and sleep sometime, you know."
I blow out a short breath. "The bodyguard thing is ridiculous," I tell him, and I catch him straight in the eye when I do. "You know that, right?"
“I…do," he says, after some hesitation. "I mean, I can see why it feels that way, and I'm sorry that I have to be part of something you don't want to have happen, but—" He winces a little. "I kind of have to insist."
I purse my lips. "Fine, well, I need to go to the registrar's office and pick up a class schedule."
At that, his bright eyes widen a bit. "Really? A schedule? You're—
“Re-enrolling,” I finish for him. “I’m sure Elena and her friends will be thrilled that their favorite punching bag is back in town."
I don't know where all the sudden bitterness is coming from.
Maybe it's the reality of what I'm taking on sinking in for the first time. Being in Emrys’s classroom felt welcoming and familiar, even if everything he told me was completely strange and all but unbelievable.
Now, out here with Lanz hovering—well, not too close, because he knows how to be deferential, but certainly nearer to me than would have been my preference—it's all got me on edge.
As if he can read my thoughts, he takes another half step back and holds his hands at the small of his back. Did they all learn that somewhere? I wonder. Like…knight school? Oh, ha ha ha, I’m hilarious.
Wordlessly, we troop down the staircases of the Classics building and out onto the quads.
It's softly silent, the way only a morning covered in fresh snow can be.
I'm about to make some observation about how February isn't usually this pristine when I catch myself and clench my jaw.
I don't want to make small talk, not with someone I don't really trust, and who doesn't think I'm capable of keeping myself safe.