by David Weber
“You said Owl told you Father Tymahn had been murdered,” he said just a bit obliquely. “I assumed from that that you meant you’d asked him for a complete report on the situation.”
“What was there to ask about?” Cayleb retorted. “Tymahn was already dead, and it’s not as if anything we decide this morning is going to have any immediate effect in Corisande. For that matter, it isn’t even dawn yet in Manchyr.”
“Actually,” Merlin corrected with scrupulous accuracy, “it is dawn in Manchyr. And they’re having lovely, clear weather down there, too, I might add.”
“And just what else is happening in Manchyr, Captain Athrawes?” Sharleyan demanded, regarding him with pronounced suspicion.
“Well, as a matter of fact, it happens that at this particular moment Koryn Gahrvai and his father, Charlz Doyal, General Chermyn, Bishop Kaisi, and Archbishop Klairmant are having their first interview with Aidryn Waimyn.”
“They’re what?!” Cayleb actually rose an inch or two out of his chair, and Sharleyan’s eyes widened in astonishment. Nahrmahn, on the other hand, simply sat back with his chocolate cup in hand.
“I’m sorry, Cayleb,” Merlin said. “When you told me Owl had told you what had happened, I thought you meant he’d told you everything.”
“Well,” Cayleb said with commendable restraint as he sat back down again, “obviously, you were in error.”
“So I’ve just realized,” Merlin replied a bit dryly. Then he shook his head. “Actually, Owl’s finally starting to show signs of real autonomous self- awareness. He became aware of what was happening and realized I’d want to know about it, so he woke me up.” The seijin’s artificial face muscles tightened. “Unfortunately, he’d picked up on it too late. Even if I’d dared to go to Manchyr to intervene, I’d never have gotten there in time. So all I could do was sit there and watch him die.”
Merlin’s face was a grim, harsh mask now. Sharleyan had never seen it quite that way before, even after the assassination attempt at Saint Agtha’s. Cayleb had . . . on the quarterdeck of the galley Royal Charis when Merlin realized he hadn’t been in time to save King Haarahld, after all.
“It was ugly,” Merlin said quietly. “Very ugly. And I couldn’t do one single damn thing to stop it.” His right fist clenched at his side, and he looked down at it, as if it belonged to someone else. “I didn’t see any reason to com you two and wake you up in the middle of the night to see something like that when none of us could do anything about it, anyway.” He looked back up again. “So I decided I’d wait until I could get back here in person, then tell you—preferably not until after you’d had breakfast, since I didn’t expect you to have a lot of appetite afterward. But when I reached the palace, Franz Ahstyn told me you were already up and that you’d summoned Nahrmahn. I was afraid I knew why.”
“All right,” Cayleb said slowly. “I understand that much. But what’s this business about Waimyn?”
“I couldn’t keep them from murdering Father Tymahn,” Merlin replied. “But I decided I could keep them from murdering anyone else. And that I’d damned well better, if I didn’t want even more of the Reformists butchered and dumped on street corners somewhere. So I used one of Owl’s remotes to write a little note, then toss it through Koryn Gahrvai’s window.” He smiled faintly, despite his grim mood. “I think it got his attention. And when he’d read it—”
“—so that’s about the size of it,” Merlin finished several minutes later. “Gahrvai’s men got Aimayl and at least three- quarters of the rest of Waimyn’s top cell leaders. Hainree heard them coming, though, and he managed to evade them. And so did that nasty piece of work Cahmmyng. But Gahrvai’s confiscated all four of their main weapons caches, and he’s got more than enough people to interrogate.” Merlin grimaced. “They’re not being any too gentle about how they ask questions, either. They’re being scrupulous about staying away from The Book of Schueler, but that’s not stopping them from being pretty damned . . . insistent. I imagine he and Doyal will be coming up with all sorts of ‘normal’ leads to help keep what’s left of Waimyn’s organization in Manchyr on the run.”
“My God, Merlin.” Cayleb had sat silent during Merlin’s recital. Now he shook his head. “Forgive me for asking, but hadn’t we all pretty much decided we needed to leave those people alone? Keep an eye on them and build up that ‘database’ of yours?”
“We had,” Merlin agreed. “But when they murdered Father Tymahn they escalated things to an entirely different level.” His sapphire eyes were grim and hard. “Bad enough if they’d only kidnapped him, held him as a hostage while they made demands or something like that. But they intended to kill him from the outset, and they did it in a way which was a deliberate challenge to Archbishop Klairmant, to Gahrvai’s authority, to the Regency Council, and even to Chermyn. I couldn’t let that stand—not when Tymahn and the other Reformists have been making so much ground in the capital.”
“You couldn’t let it stand?” Sharleyan said in a careful tone, and Merlin nodded.
“I couldn’t,” he confirmed flatly.
There was silence in the council chamber again. Snow was falling more heavily outside the window, and Nahrmahn rather imagined he could feel the day’s chill even from where he sat. Except that the cold breeze blowing down his spine at the moment had nothing at all to do with the weather.
We tend to forget that Merlin—Nimue Alban—has his own agenda,the Emeraldian prince thought quietly. We work together with him so closely, and the success of Charis is so important to his mission, that we forget he isn’t really a Charisian himself. Not even a Safeholdian, when you come to it. I suspect this is the first time since Cayleb learned the truth about him that Merlin hasn’t even consulted the Emperor before making a decision of such magnitude. I wonder how Cayleb and Sharleyan—especially Cayleb—are going to react to that?
“And the reason you didn’t tell us all this yesterday?” Cayleb asked quietly. “Because, as I said, I wanted to tell you in person. I hoped you wouldn’t have heard about Father Tymahn’s murder before I got back here, since I’m the one who normally monitors what’s going on in Manchyr. I wanted to give you that news personally, not over the com. And I wanted to tell you personally what I’d done about it.”
“Because you expected us to be angry that you didn’t even consult with us before standing our entire strategy for Manchyr on its head? Was that it?” It was impossible to read Cayleb’s tone, but his eyes were very intent.
“Not so much because I expected you and Sharleyan to be angry, no,” Merlin replied steadily. “I did think, though, that since I’d already gone ahead and acted—since it was what we used to call a ‘fait accompli’ back on Old Earth—I at least owed you the courtesy of a personal explanation of what I’d done and why.”
Cayleb sat back in his chair on his side of the table, gazing at the tall, blue-eyed man in the blackened armor, badged with the gold, blue, and silver of the Empire of Charis, standing on its other side. Nahrmahn wondered which Cayleb was seeing in that moment: the Imperial Guardsman, or the PICA with the soul of a dead woman?
Then the emperor glanced at Sharleyan for a moment and shrugged. “First, Merlin, let me say—and I imagine I speak for Sharley in this, as well—that, under the circumstances, I wholeheartedly approve of your decision.”
He lifted one eyebrow at his wife, who nodded in firm agreement, then turned his attention back to Merlin.
“Second, however, I’d like to remind you of a conversation you had, once upon a time, with my father. ‘I respect you, and in many ways I admire you,’ you said to him. ‘But my true loyalty? That belongs not to you, or to Cayleb, but to the future. I will use you, if I can, Your Majesty.’ ”
The council chamber was silent once more, and Cayleb smiled thinly. “Are you surprised I knew what you said to him?” the emperor asked. “A bit,” Merlin admitted after a moment. “I didn’t realize he’d told you about that.”
“He didn’t. Charlz Gahrdaner did. Father ha
dn’t told him not to, and when he saw how close you and I were getting, he thought I should know. It wasn’t that he distrusted you, Merlin. It’s just that his loyalty was first, last, and always to Charis. To the House of Ahrmahk.”
“And are you angry that mine isn’t?” Merlin asked softly. “Merlin.” Cayleb shook his head with a sudden, unexpected smile. It was a bit crooked, that smile, but it was definitely a smile. “Merlin, I’ve always known that. Even if Charlz hadn’t told me, you have, often enough and openly. It hasn’t kept you from offering Sharley and me your friendship—even your ser -vice. For God’s sake, you flew halfway around the planet to save her life! Of course I could wish—hope—we’ll always find ourselves in general agreement. And I’ll admit that I would have preferred to have at least a little input before you sicced Gahrvai on Waimyn. In that regard, please feel as free to wake me up in the middle of the night as I’ve always felt about waking you up. But don’t think I expect you to do one inch less than what ever it is you believe your duty requires of you. I’m not that stupid. And I’m not that selfish, either, Merlin.” He shook his head again. “There’s a phrase you used to me once, about someone else. You said he’d ‘paid cash’ for the right to make up his own mind about something. Well, so have you.”
There was another moment of silence, then Merlin chuckled. “I hoped you’d take it that way,” he said. “I’d be lying if I said I’d been certain you would, though.”
“And would it have made one bit of difference to your future actions if I’d decided to pitch an imperial tantrum about your having had the sheer effrontery to make a decision without consulting me and Sharley?”
“No,” Merlin told him a bit wryly. “No, not really.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Cayleb said.
.XIII.
Archbishop Maikel’s Suite,
Archbishop’s Palace,
City of Cherayth,
Kingdom of Chisholm
Maikel Staynair looked up from the book in his lap as someone rapped lightly on his chamber door.
The morning had been as quiet as only a winter morning could be. He’d stationed himself by his chamber’s eastern- facing window in order to take advantage of the morning light for his reading, but it had also let him look out across the snowy Chisholmian landscape. He hadn’t been in Cherayth long enough for the novelty of snow to fade, and he found the graceful, floating descent of the snowflakes endlessly fascinating. Ahrdyn, on the other hand, had decided snow was a terrible idea. Fortunately for the cat- lizard’s peace of mind, his basket was large enough to accommodate a truly luxurious, incredibly soft blanket—a gift from Empress Sharleyan, in fact—and he was currently burrowed down under it, with only the very tip of his nose exposed.
Whoever their visitor was rapped again, a bit more loudly. “Yes?” Staynair called, and the door eased open just far enough to admit a human head. The head in question belonged to Father Bryahn Ushyr, his personal secretary and most closely trusted aide.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Eminence, but Seijin Merlin wonders if he might have a moment of your time?”
Staynair’s snowy eyebrows rose. He sat there for a moment, then slipped a bookmark into the volume in his lap and closed it.
“Of course, Bryahn. Ask the seijin to come in, please.”
“Certainly, Your Eminence,” Ushyr murmured, and his head disappeared once more.
The door opened again—wider—a few seconds later, and Merlin Athrawes stepped through it. Staynair was surprised to see him for several reasons. For one thing, he’d understood Merlin would be remaining in Maikelberg for at least another day or so. For another, he was a little perplexed as to why Merlin might have come to see him in person rather than simply using their coms, since the seijin’s SNARCs must have told him Staynair was alone in his chamber, which meant no one would have noticed him talking to himself.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Your Eminence,” Merlin said as Ushyr closed the door once more behind him.
“You’re always welcome,” Staynair replied with a smile. “All the same, I must admit I’m a little surprised by your visit.”
“I’m sure you are.” Merlin smiled back, but then the smile faded. “I’ve just come from a meeting with Cayleb, Sharleyan, and Nahrmahn, though. Well,” he corrected himself, “I’ve just come by way of a bath and a clean uniform.”
“What sort of meeting?”
“There’ve been some . . . unexpected developments in Manchyr.” Stay-nair’s eyes narrowed as Merlin’s voice turned unexpectedly grim. “In fact, one reason I’m here is to ask you to join the three of them to discuss those developments. They wanted to wait until after you’d had breakfast. For several reasons.”
“Should I assume the ‘unexpected developments’ in question are less than happy ones?” Staynair asked quietly.
“I’m afraid so. And, frankly, I’m also afraid they’re going to have some implications for your own visit.”
“I see.” Staynair laid his book aside and started to climb out of his comfortable armchair.
“Just a moment, Your Eminence. Please.”
The archbishop’s eyebrows rose once more as Merlin gestured for him to remain seated. He settled back, cocking his head to one side.
“Yes?” he invited. “I said that one reason I’d come was to extend their invitation,” Merlin said. “I have another one, though. One I really need to discuss with you before I bring the matter to their attention.”
“This has something to do with what’s happened in Manchyr?”
“No, Your Eminence. Or, not directly, at any rate. It has to do with a discussion you had with Baron Wave Thunder before you departed for Emerald.”
“I beg your pardon?” Staynair blinked, and Merlin gave him an off- center smile.
“Before you left Tellesberg, Your Eminence, you arranged for Father Bryahn to deliver several cases of documents to the Baron. Documents which had been sent to you from Zion... by way of Madame Dynnys.”
Staynair stiffened. For a moment, simple surprise—and shock—held him motionless in his chair, his eyes widening in astonishment. Then his normally gentle face darkened. The eyes which had gone wide narrowed, and his entire body seemed to quiver as a bolt of outrage went through him.
“Merlin—!”he began in a hard, angry voice. “Please, Your Eminence!” Merlin said quickly, raising one hand in a pacific gesture. “I have no intention of violating your confidence in any way!”
“You already have!” Staynair was as furious as Merlin had ever seen him. “I realize the entire ‘Church of God Awaiting’ is only a farce, and not a good one,” he said sharply, “but you know perfectly well that I still take my priestly responsibilities seriously! And you obviously also know Madame Dynnys came to me under the seal of the confessional!”
“Yes, I do,” Merlin agreed, keeping his own voice deliberately calm. “And I became aware of it only because Owl gave me the information in a routine data dump. I’m sorry to say it hadn’t occurred to me—then—to put in place a filter which would respect the privacy and confidentiality of your pastoral discussions with individual members of the Church. Since that incident, I have.”
Staynair glared at him, and Merlin looked back levelly. “You’re perfectly welcome to check with Owl about that, Your Eminence,” he said very quietly.
A tense, brittle silence hovered for a moment. Then Staynair’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply.
“That won’t be necessary.” His voice was as quiet as Merlin’s had been. “Your word is more than good enough for me, Seijin Merlin. It always has been.”
“Thank you,” Merlin said sincerely. “I must assume, however,” Staynair continued with the air of a man deliberately stepping back from a brink, “that there’s a reason you brought your... awareness of this particular situation to my attention?”
“There is.”
Merlin crossed to the window and stood gazing out into the snow. He said nothing more fo
r several seconds, then turned his head to look at the archbishop.
“Your Eminence, I became aware of the existence of Mistress Ahnzhelyk’s files purely by chance, and I understand exactly why Madame Dynnys wants to protect her identity—and her—from accidental betrayal. What I don’t know, because of those filters I had Owl put in place since your original conversation with her, is whether or not Madame Dynnys ever did tell you the identities of those within the Temple who have been working with Ahnzhelyk?”
Staynair considered the question for a moment, then shrugged. “No, she hasn’t.”
“I’m not really surprised.” Merlin turned back to the window. “However, ever since I became aware of your conversation, I’ve been... keeping an eye on Mistress Ahnzhelyk.”
“What?” Alarm tinged Staynair’s tone. “I thought you said—”
“What I’ve said,” Merlin interrupted, never looking away from the window, “is that I don’t dare operate the SNARCs or their remotes inside the Temple proper.” He shrugged. “I still don’t have any idea what all those power sources under the Temple are. Obviously, quite a lot of them have to be associated with the Temple’s environmental ser vices and the automated remotes that keep all its ‘mystic’ features up and running. I think there’s more than would be needed just for that, though, and I’m not going to risk tripping any close- in sensors. But Ahnzhelyk’s town house is far enough from the Temple that I can keep an eye on it. Cautiously, of course. In fact,” he looked back at the archbishop with a strange, flickering little smile, “I’ve actually been to Zion, you know.”
“You’ve been to Zion?” Staynair couldn’t quite hide his surprise, and Merlin chuckled.
“That was before I’d been able to tell any of you the truth. Tell me, didn’t you ever wonder exactly how Archbishop Erayk came to take that extremely convenient tumble on Ahnzhelyk’s steps?”
Staynair’s eyes widened once more, and Merlin nodded. “Wasn’t that just a bit risky?” the archbishop asked after a moment. “From what you’ve said, I’d have thought it would constitute a considerable risk of detection.”