Chapter 45: Share and Share Alike

Olyrrwd’s tirade broke off in a choking sob. He collapsed onto the chair next to his bed, buried his face in his hands, and rocked back and forth, moaning, “He’s got him! What are we going to do?”

Herrwn had never seen his cousin like this. Throwing off his covers, he got up, hurried to the cupboard, poured a goblet of the potent ale Olyrrwd kept there, and brought it back.

“Drink this and calm yourself! You say Ossiam has taken Caelym as his disciple? Tell me what you mean, and then we will decide what is to be done.”

Olyrrwd took the cup in both hands, drained it, and heaved it across the room. “I mean Ossiam has taken Caelym as his disciple—and I know what I’m going to do! I’m going to …”

What followed was an outpouring of the various ways Olyrrwd meant to murder Ossiam—all extremely violent and some quite implausible—that left Herrwn sputtering, “But … but … you are a healer!”

“And I’m going to heal our shrine by getting rid of that pestilent vermin.”

“No, you are not! And we both know you are not!”

Realizing that by implication he had accepted Olyrrwd’s derogatory description of their shrine’s chief oracle, Herrwn drew a breath, cleared his throat, and spoke in the authoritative voice he usually reserved for making declarations at the High Council.

“And we also both know that Ossiam, whatever his flaws, is not a pestilent vermin but an honored priest in the highest ranks of our order—so, if you are finished venting your spleen, tell me what he has done to aggravate you this time.”

Grumbling, “He is too a pestilent vermin,” Olyrrwd walked over to retrieve his cup, refilled it, and carried it back into the bedchamber, where he set it on a side table within easy reach before sitting down and beginning, “I woke up needing to void and was coming out of the latrine when I saw them—”

“Them?”

“Caelym and Ossiam!”

“But Caelym should still be in bed.”

“Should be but isn’t! Now, are you going to hear me out or not?”

“Of course I am.”

“Then please do! It was Caelym and Ossiam, and they were coming from the door to the back gate and heading toward the entrance to the oracle’s tower.”

“How was Caelym dressed?”

“What does it matter?”

“Well, if he was in his nightshirt, perhaps he was just visiting the latrine as well and only happened to meet Ossiam, and it may just have been a kindness that Ossiam was walking him back here.”

“First, he was wearing the robe he wore last night. Second, I just told you they were going to Ossiam’s tower. And third, you are supposed to be listening to me, not interrupting!”

“I’m sorry and I won’t—”

“—say another word until I’ve finished. Good! Don’t! So, seeing them and knowing that Ossiam was up to something—”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do, so will you let me finish?”

“Of course I will!”

“So, knowing that Ossiam was up to something and that I had to get Caelie away from that conniving snake—”

“He’s not a—”

“He is! And if you will stop interrupting, I’ll prove it.”

“I certainly don’t mean to interrupt.”

“Then may I go on?”

“Please do.”

“So I went after them, calling for Caelie that it was time for his healing lessons.”

“Which it is, so what … Ah, sorry … do continue!”

“So Caelie stopped and turned around, but Ossiam grabbed his arm and held him back, crowing, ‘He doesn’t want to be a healer; he wants to be an oracle!’ and turned to Caelym, sneering, ‘Isn’t that right, boy?’”

“What did Caelym say?”

“Nothing at first … just looked embarrassed and gave his please-don’t-be-mad-at-me shrug, but Ossiam shook his arm and shouted, ‘Tell him!’ I don’t know what Ossiam did to cow the poor lad, but he mumbled, ‘I want to be an oracle,’ not looking me in the face, but that wasn’t good enough for Ossiam, who shrieked at him, ‘Look up and say it louder!’ and he did, though he looked like he wanted to drop into a hole and hide. ‘Tell him why!’ Ossiam shrieked again, and Caelym—closing his eyes and speaking as if he were under a spell—recited the words that Ossiam had obviously put in his mouth, ‘Because the study of divination is for those not afraid of seeking answers beyond the reach of ordinary minds.’ Then Ossiam—that vile, venomous vermin, that slithering snake—smirked at me and jeered, ‘So, if you will excuse us, my disciple and I need to begin his lessons,’ and he dragged Caelym off to his tower.”

After waiting a moment to be sure Olyrrwd had finished his diatribe, Herrwn shook his head, saying firmly, “It is a misunderstanding, I’m sure.”

Herrwn was sure, and he would have explained why if Olyrrwd hadn’t drowned out his next words in a flood of invectives so foul it made his earlier outburst seem restrained.

“Olyrrwd, you must stop this!”

“Me? What about Os—”

“You and Ossiam both! He taunts you and you badger him, and that is what this is about—not whether Caelym is to be a healer or an oracle! If there were three Caelyms and we could each have one, you two would find some new reason to torment each other!”

“But there’s only one, and Ossiam has no right to him!”

“He has the same right as you or I to impart his wisdom to the one pupil we have left—the pupil that you yourself have said that we must share.”

“He never showed any interest in the boy before.”

“But before, he had a disciple—one who is now lost and for whom he must be feeling great grief and pain.”

“Him? Feel pain or grief over Rhedwyn? He cares nothing for anyone except himself! He destroyed Rhedwyn and will do the same to Caelym!”

“Stop! I will not allow you to say that about our cousin and our shrine’s chief oracle.”

As Olyrrwd was drawing his breath to retort, Herrwn put up his hand.

“I insist that you look at this from Ossiam’s point of view. Like us, he knows that he must have a disciple to replace him, and so you and I must share the one pupil we have with him.”

Olyrrwd was not ready to be reasoned with or pacified. “But Ossiam doesn’t share! He’s claimed Caelym as his disciple! I told you what he made the boy say!”

“You told me what Caelym said to you, colored by your suspicions and your readiness to think the worst of Ossiam! What you heard is that Caelym wants to be an oracle, which is as honorable a goal as to be a physician or a bard!”

“But—”

“But, in any case, Caelym is only beginning the second level of his training, and it will be four years, at the earliest, before his discipleship, or discipleships, will be decided. Until then, he will remain under my supervision, and he will continue his studies in healing and recitations, along with the lessons in divination that Ossiam now offers to him.”

“Offers? He’s poisoned the boy’s mind, I tell you, convincing him that being a healer or a bard is just for those of us too stupid to be oracles!”

“Even if that were true, which—”

“It is!”

“—which I am sure it is not, the choice of whose disciple he will be is not decided by the pupil but by his teachers! It is a decision that we three elders will make together when Caelym has completed his second-level training, and if none of us relinquishes our claim—and I do not foresee that any of us will—then he will be a disciple to all three.”

“But if Ossiam keeps him until then, stuffing his head full of—”

“He will not ‘keep him’!”

“But Ossiam said—”

“Ossiam is not the chief priest in this shrine. I am. And I have just said that Caelym will remain under my supervision and will continue his lessons with both of us!”

“But—”

“But his most important lessons will be seeing his three teachers treating each other with courteous respect and honoring the wisdom that each has to impart.”

Olyrrwd snorted. “Maybe you should tell Ossiam that!”

Herrwn sighed. “I will, but now I am telling you.”

Herrwn did speak with Ossiam and was relieved at the oracle’s ready acquiescence, as well as his assurance that he had simply been elated by Caelym’s unexpected interest in the wonders of divination and had never imagined Olyrrwd would take his lighthearted jesting so seriously. He had no objection at all to Herrwn’s stipulation that Caelym’s time be divided evenly between the three of them, asking only that occasional allowance be made when intensive preparations were required for critical incantations.

That, Herrwn had to agree, was entirely reasonable, and he said as much when he repeated his exchange with Ossiam to Olyrrwd. He was disappointed, but not surprised, that Olyrrwd’s only response was, “Harrumph!”