by David Weber
“ ‘Restraint’!”Amilain Gahrnaht repeated, gazing incredulously at Storm Keep. “He’s had five priests of Mother Church, including the archbishopric’s legal Intendant, and twenty- one brothers from Saint Zhustyn’s hanged, My Lord. Hanged by the secular authorities, in direct contravention of the Writ! Another twenty- five or thirty priests and brothers are still in custody— secular custody—to serve prison terms. Prison terms for consecrated priests of God!”
“That’s true, Bishop Amilain.” Storm Keep’s voice was rather colder than the one in which he usually spoke to the bishop. “On the other hand, assuming he’s serious about claiming authority in the name of the Church in Corisande, Gairlyng could just as easily have had all of them put to the Question and sentenced to the full Punishment of Schueler. As it happens, there’s no evidence any of them, including Father Aidryn, were even interrogated under duress. You and I may be aware of the enormity of Gairlyng’s offense against Mother Church and God,” from his tone, Shylair thought, the earl was rather less impressed with the gravity of that offense than Gahrnaht was, “but the majority of the common folk aren’t. They regard Church law as the Church’s business, and what they see is that ‘Archbishop Klairmant’ could have had every single one of his prisoners put to the Question for the murder of a priest before they were executed themselves. They may not be aware of everything else The Book of Schueler prescribes for that sort of an offense, but they know that much, and they know Gairlyng didn’t do it. And the rest of the clergy, at the very least, do know that Schueler decrees the Punishment for anyone convicted of priest- killing. As far as the people who see those things are concerned, My Lord, that is restraint, and there’s no point pretending otherwise. We have to deal with what is, not what we’d like to be, and deceiving ourselves is the best way I can think of to fail in our efforts to undo this entire abomination.”
Gahrnaht started to reply hotly, but Shylair held up a restraining hand. “Peace, Amilain,” he said, quietly but firmly. “Earl Storm Keep’s spoken nothing but the truth, I’m afraid. And he’s right about the common folk leaving matters of Church law to the Church. For that matter, that’s exactly what they ought to do. It’s simply... unfortunate that, in this case, the men claiming to speak for Mother Church actually serve Shan- wei.”
Gahrnaht’s expression was manifestly unhappy, but he settled back in his chair, obedient to Shylair’s gesture. The bishop executor gazed at him for a moment, then turned his attention back to Craggy Hill.
“It would seem from what you’ve said, and what Sahlahmn’s said,” he nodded at Storm Keep, “that for now, at least, we have no choice but to abandon any hope of a popular rising in Manchyr. Would you agree?”
“I’m afraid so, Your Eminence.” Craggy Hill leaned back in his own chair, tugging at an earlobe. “It was always going to be difficult to coordinate Father Aidryn’s efforts with our own. And, to be frank, the southeastern part of the Princedom seems increasingly inclined to follow the capital’s example. I tried to talk Anvil Rock and the others out of concentrating their efforts south of the Barcors, but I couldn’t push too hard, and, unfortunately, they were too smart to spread their forces and their efforts as thinly as I wanted them to.” He shrugged. “As a result, they’ve been able to build themselves what amounts to a secure base extending outward from the capital. I’m not trying to say they’re entirely secure, but they do have Rochair, Tartarian, Airyth, Coris, Dairwyn, and Manchyr itself pretty much in their pockets. The northwest and west are more of a toss- up—they could go either way. Wind Daughter would probably break for the Regency Council at this point in any open confrontation, but the islanders don’t have very much population. And that leaves us, up here in the north, where at the moment Anvil Rock’s and Tartarian’s authority is shaky, to say the very least.”
“So what do you think they’re planning, My Lord?” Shylair asked. “I know exactly what they’re planning, Your Eminence. I’ve sat in on enough of their meetings for that! In essence, their strategy is to continue to gradually expand their area of control, working outward from Manchyr. It’s not going to be quick, but they’ve decided that steady—and successful—is more important than quick, and they’re not about to overreach themselves.”
“Which gives us at least a little more time,” Baron Larchros observed. “Yes, but we can’t afford to squander it,” Storm Keep said forcefully. Heads nodded around the table. Things had moved with frustrating slowness, despite their very best efforts, and every one of them was acutely aware of the hours and days trickling away.
“Well, the good news is that we may be able to begin moving after all,” Craggy Hill said. The others looked at him, and he smiled sourly. “Zebediah’s finally ready to stop dancing around. Oh, he’s still holding out for our guarantee of the recognition of complete Zebediahan independence—under him, of course—but I think it’s a formality at this point. At any rate, he’s committed himself to providing us with the new- model muskets we need. Or some of them, at least.”
“He has?” Shylair straightened in his chair, eyes brightening.
Although his secular associates had been steadily increasing their manpower, they were all only too conscious of their lack of weapons. They were too ill- supplied in that regard to arm the men they’d already raised even with swords and pikes, and all of them combined had less than four hundred muskets—all of them old- fashioned smoothbore matchlocks. Against Gahrvai’s forces, alone, they would be totally outclassed; once Viceroy General Chermyn put his Marines, with their rifles and artillery, into the field in support, any form of armed uprising would be futile. It could result in nothing but a bloodbath for the resistance, especially now that the southeastern portion of the princedom was accepting the Regency Council’s authority, and the bishop executor knew it.
But now.... “Is it just the rifles, Wahlys?” Storm Keep asked. “Let’s not pooh- pooh rifles, Sahlahmn,” Craggy Hill replied with a sour smile. Storm Keep nodded in acknowledgment, and Craggy Hill shrugged. “At the moment, he’s promising only the rifles. He says we can have the first four or five hundred within a month or so of reaching an actual agreement. Ar-tillery’s going to be harder, because Cayleb’s being so coy about making it available to Zebediah. Apparently, for some strange reason, he doesn’t quite trust Zebediah.”
From the expressions of his fellow conspirators, that didn’t exactly come as a stunning revelation.
“That raises an interesting point, My Lord,” Gahrnaht observed. “If Cayleb’s watching Zebediah, will he actually be able to divert enough rifles to make a difference?”
“I don’t know,” Craggy Hill said frankly. “I do know that, according to his envoy, he’s already creatively ‘lost’ somewhere around two hundred rifles which were passing through Zebediah. Apparently, no one in Cayleb’s quartermaster’s corps even noticed. However, the majority of the arms he’s proposing to deliver to us will never officially enter Zebediah at all.”
“I beg your pardon, My Lord?” Gahrnaht’s eyebrows rose, and Craggy Hill snorted.
“I don’t know how he’s planning to manage it, either, Bishop Amilain, but his envoy seems confident. Apparently, Zebediah hasn’t lost any of his penchant for sneakiness. As nearly as I can put it together from what his envoy’s let slip, he’s got a contact in Chisholm who’s in a position to divert arms and material from their new ‘Imperial Army.’ As fast as they’re expanding, and with every-thing that has to be going on while they worry about the Church’s counterattack, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone with big enough balls—if you’ll pardon the language—could manage to ‘lose’ quite a few rifles, or even artillery pieces, if he were in the right position. And from what Zebediah’s envoy is saying, it sounds like his contact in Chisholm is in the right position.”
Once again, heads nodded all around the table, this time with varying degrees of profound satisfaction. If Craggy Hill was right, then they were finally in a position to begin serious planning. If they had the weapons and the fire
-power to stand up to Gahrvai long enough, there were plenty of Temple Loyalists who’d rally to their colors, and for the first time in far too long, they shared a sense of actual confidence.
None of those nodding heads, however, were aware of the tiny, almost microscopic, sensor remote clinging to the underside of one of the chamber’s ceiling beams while it eavesdropped on their entire conversation.
.V.
Imperial Palace,
City of Cherayth,
Kingdom of Chisholm
Merlin!”
An Empress Sharleyan whose pregnancy was just beginning to show leapt to her feet as the tall, black- haired guardsman stepped through the door. It wasn’t the way a crowned head of state normally greeted a mere captain of the Imperial Guard, but no one in the council chamber appeared conscious of any irregularity.
Edwyrd Seahamper, Sharleyan’s personal armsman, had the duty inside the chamber. His face looked as if it were about to split in two around the fracture line of his enormous grin, and Emperor Cayleb was no more than a step or two behind his wife as the two of them closed in on Captain Athrawes. Prince Nahrmahn of Emerald sat back in his own chair with a smile of welcome whose genuine warmth would have astounded even Nahrmahn as recently as a few months ago, and Archbishop Maikel’s smile was almost as broad as Seahamper’s.
“Your Majesty,” Merlin replied as Sharleyan threw her arms around him in a hug which would have threatened the structural integrity of a mere fleshand- blood rib cage, even if he was wearing a cuirass. His tone was matter of fact, almost bland, but it didn’t fool any of those present, and he hugged her back carefully.
“Took you long enough,” Cayleb observed, reaching out to clasp forearms with Merlin as Sharleyan moved aside to give him room.
“It did take longer than I anticipated,” Merlin confessed. “On the other hand, Ahnzhelyk turned out to be a lot more impressive than I’d anticipated, too.”
“We want to hear all about it,” Sharleyan said. Merlin’s need to maintain the lowest profile possible, electronically speaking, had precluded the sort of daily conversations to which they’d become accustomed. He’d passed along enough information to keep them generally informed, but they knew little of the details.
“We want to hear all about it,” Sharleyan continued, “but we don’t have time for a full report right this minute. Mahrak and Mother will be here anytime now. So anything that they’re not cleared for is going to have to wait until later. Except for what you can squeeze in before they arrive, of course.”
“Understood, Your Majesty,” Merlin said, and bowed slightly.
Baron Green Mountain and Queen Mother Alahnah had been as surprised as almost everyone else when it had been announced Captain Athrawes would be withdrawing from court for an overdue period of meditation. They’d been less happy than some, too, given how handy Merlin had proved when it came to stopping assassination attempts. Still, they’d also recognized that Cayleb and Sharleyan’s confinement to the palace—which the weather would have enforced, even if there’d been no other factors to consider—provided an opportune window for him to do just that without jeopardizing their security. They also knew, better than most, how close he was to Sharleyan and Cayleb, however. Now that he was back, they would probably give the emperor and empress at least a little time to welcome him home. On the other hand, this was supposed to be a working meeting, and there were a great many details to settle before Cayleb and Sharleyan departed for their scheduled return to Tellesberg at the end of the month.
Under the circumstances, Merlin felt sure they’d be along shortly. Fortunately, Lieutenant Franz Ahstyn, Merlin’s second- in- command from Cayleb’s personal detail, had the duty section outside the council chamber. Ahstyn knew about Merlin’s “visions,” and also knew Green Mountain and Alahnah hadn’t been cleared for that knowledge. He could be relied upon to knock on the door and announce the first councilor and queen mother’s arrival instead of simply opening it and ushering them through.
In the meantime— “The short version is that unless something goes incredibly wrong, Ahnzhelyk is going to get herself and all her people—and, trust me, there are more of them than we ever suspected—safely out of the Temple Lands to Siddar City. I’ve managed to figure out her arrangements for getting from there to Tellesberg, as well, and I think they should work fine. It’s going to be a bit ticklish, in some ways, but she has an excellent relationship with the House of Qwentyn, and she’s already booked passage on one of those ‘Siddarmarkian’ ships with Charisian crews which the Qwentyns appear to have acquired.”
He smiled broadly in remembered admiration, but then he sobered. “The other good news is that she managed something quite extraordinary. She has Samyl Wylsynn’s family and the families of four other vicars who were members of Wylsynn’s ‘Circle’ with her. That’s astonishing enough to be going on with, but she’s managed to pull out thirteen other vicars’ families, as well, from all over the Temple Lands. And she’s managed to get Archbishop Zhasyn out of Glacierheart and sixteen more of the ‘Circle’s’ bishops and bishops executor... and their families.” He shook his head. “That’s over two hundred men, women, and children Clyntahn and the Inquisition are searching every-where for. When word gets out that they came up short on that kind of scale, it’s not going to do a thing for Clyntahn’s aura of omnipotence.”
“My God.” Cayleb sounded almost reverent. “How in the name of all that’s truly holy did she manage it?”
“Obviously I haven’t been able to ask her for the details, since I didn’t even realize everything she was up to until I was already on my way back here. For that matter, I doubt I’ve actually found everything, even now. But from what I’ve seen of the way she operates, it probably didn’t take anywhere near the manpower Clyntahn’s going to assume it did. I’d guess she was probably the only person outside the ‘Circle’ itself to whom Wylsynn had trusted the names of every member of his group, and if I had to pick the single most dangerous thing about her, from Clyntahn’s perspective, it’s that she plans ahead—with a vengeance.
“I’d been keeping tabs on Cahnyr myself, so I’ve got a pretty good feel for what she did in his case, and I’d guess she used the same technique with most of the others. With variations, of course. But, put most simply, she identified the people most at risk because of their association with the ‘Circle,’ and she arranged—years ago in Cahnyr’s case, at least—a network to get them out quickly and quietly in an emergency. Her idea of how to maintain operational security makes anyone else we’ve seen yet—even you, Your Highness,” he smiled at Nahrmahn, “look positively garrulous, too. I’ll guarantee you that not one of the people she was arranging to rescue knew any more about her plans than Cahnyr himself did. That way if one of them was taken, he couldn’t expose the existence of the network to anyone else. And I’m just about as certain that the people she’d contacted to do the rescuing had no idea who she was or how to initiate contact with her. It was a cellular system—‘sleeper cells,’ they used to call them back on Old Earth—that was already in place and waiting long before Clyntahn discovered the ‘Circle’s’ existence. All she had to do was get the prearranged execution orders to her... extraction teams.”
“It sounds like we need to hire her to work for you, Nahrmahn,” Cayleb said, looking over at the rotund little Emeraldian with a flickering smile.
“It sounds to me, Your Grace, as if we need to create her own special bureau and put her in charge of clandestine operations,” Nahrmahn replied very seriously indeed. “I’ve never attempted anything on the scale Merlin’s describing, and certainly not right under the Inquisition’s nose, but I think I have a feel for the difficulties. And for the degree of forethought and planning involved. I realize she had years—decades—to put all this in place, but I’m still deeply impressed.”
“Well,” Merlin’s expression had been sober; now it went positively grim, “I agree with you that I’m impressed, Your Highness, but don’t expect her to be.”
He inhaled deeply. “She may have gotten two hundred people out; from what Owl’s picked up, though, Clyntahn’s arrested almost two thousand.”
“Two thousand?” Sharleyan repeated very softly and carefully, her tone stricken, and Merlin nodded slowly.
“Wylsynn’s ‘Circle’ was larger than we suspected,” he said heavily. “In addition to him and his brother, there were at least twenty other vicars—there may well have been more; at this point, according to the remotes Owl left in Zion, he’s arrested over thirty. In addition, he’s arrested the families of all of the accused vicars—aside from the ones Ahnzhelyk got out—as well as every member of the vicars’ personal staffs and their families. And they’ve arrested fifty bishops and archbishops, and all of their immediate families, as well.”
“Thirty vicars?” Staynair shook his head, his expression as shocked as Merlin had ever seen it. “That’s a tenth part of the entire vicarate!”
“I’m aware of that, Your Eminence. And I don’t think he’s done yet. It’s obvious he’s taking this opportunity to purge the vicarate of everyone he thinks might have the courage to oppose him. And”— Merlin’s PICA’s face was carved granite—“the Inquisition has already announced it intends to apply the full rigor of The Book of Schueler to any ‘vile, forsworn, and damnable traitor who has betrayed his vows to God, the Archangels, and Mother Church, no matter who he may be or what office he may have attained’ and to their families, as well.”