by James Evans
The training that students received during their five years at The Farm was tough and varied, going far beyond the skills traditionally associated with clerics. Lady Drocia had personally overseen the re-development of the education programme shortly after she had assumed her position. Under her direct instruction, the areas of study had become more numerous, far broader and much tougher, with the result that graduates were highly skilled in a number of areas that lay well outside the traditionally religious. For the very best and most talented students, their training was interspersed with regular placements within the temple complex, working directly for Lady Drocia.
So successful was The Farm’s programme that its graduates were in demand across the Empire, allowing Lady Drocia to install her protégés in both public office and the private chapels of the elite. Over the last fifty years she had placed hundreds of clerics and her near obsessive letter writing allowed her to trade news and information with most of them. Every few years the temple would hold a gathering, bringing together as many clerics as possible for a spiritual retreat at The Farm, renewing their friendships and reasserting Lady Drocia’s dominance of the wider church.
Today she would make the short journey to The Farm to inspect progress on the latest student intake. Each year the number of applicants grew as The Farm became increasingly popular as the dumping ground of difficult second children or talented troublemakers rejected by the more conventional Universities. For many of these individuals, The Farm’s specialised and sometimes harsh training acted as a focal point in their lives, helping to give them purpose and meaning in an otherwise dull world.
She dressed conservatively in simple white travelling robes. These too had changed over the years of her office, from the straight, heavy, unflattering and largely unadorned woollen robes worn by her predecessors. Today she wore loose-fitting linen trousers with an elegant but sensible smock that hung to her mid-thigh. The badge of her office was embroidered discretely on the breast of the smock, which was cut to be comfortable but not at all revealing - some things even Lady Drocia was not able to change. The relaxed dress rules, although not popular amongst some of the older clerics and the more hidebound nobles, meant that she could move freely within comfortable and functional garments - a huge boon for a former soldier more used to sudden violence and then extended bouts of peaceful contemplation.
She checked her charms and reviewed her appearance in her hand mirror, patting her hair back into shape, then stepped through to her study. Yesterday’s letters had gone, taken away to be filed by the efficient Coewia. Today’s letters had not yet arrived - they’d be here sometime around mid-morning - but there were a few late messages in her in-tray. She skimmed through them - mostly minor updates about temple administration, things her staff thought might interest her - then took a large notebook from the desk drawer. She set it carefully on the desk and from another drawer took a small charm in the form of a stylised panther. She focussed a little power into the charm - a diviner - and ran it carefully over the top of the notebook, feeling for the tell-tale hints that would indicate someone else had been reading the book. As suspected, her “private” notebook had been inspected. Somebody had flicked through the pages, focussing on the latest entries and leaning heavily on the page to do so.
She sat back, thinking. There was nothing secret in the notebook - it was merely a record of her appointments with a few predictable, non-controversial observations about the people she had met - but the fact that it had been read confirmed some of her suspicions. She grinned and slid the notebook back into its place in the drawer. The task now was to work out which of her staff was spying on her, and for whom; she loved a challenge.
She pulled her key charm from its hiding place in the desk and used the diviner again. Nobody had touched the key. She considered moving the key to a new hiding place or taking it with her but that would risk alerting the spy. Or spies, she thought, grimacing. The temple staff was large and fluid. She was sure of her aides, her personal servants and most of the cardinals but the real affiliations of the rest of the staff, particularly the ever-changing secular servants and the soldiery, were unknown and untested.
Lady Drocia stood up from her desk and collected her staff. She stopped at the door, trying to remember which leg she’d been limping on the day before, then pulled open the door that would take her to the main complex and stepped out, pulling on the habits of a tired old woman like a cloak as she went. Staff tapping, she walked slowly to the quadrangle and walked several times around the cloisters, ostensibly for exercise but mostly so that everyone saw that she was awake and moving. From the cloister she walked slowly down the stairs to the kitchens, busy even at this time of the morning, and along the corridors past the store rooms. Servants, maids and cooks alike curtsied or bowed as the approached. Only the guards at the gate that separated the private areas from the public ignored her, standing tall with eyes straight ahead as she tapped her way towards the public temple.
A pair of junior clerics, recent graduates from The Farm, bowed their heads. Lady Drocia inspected their appearance as they prepared for the early morning service then said a few words of encouragement to one, of mild chastisement to the other. She tapped her way along the central aisle of the temple to the huge front doors, closed now but soon to be opened to admit the faithful. She pushed open the small postern door and let herself out onto the steps of the temple. Even at this early hour, a crowd of worshippers had formed, attended by the ever-present sellers of pies and beer.
As she sat at the edge of the steps, unrecognised without the gaudy gowns and accoutrements of office, her staff beside her on the steps, the sun finally crested the roofs of the houses on the other side of the square to cast its light on the front of the temple. When the sunlight had crept down far enough to light the dawn window, the clerics waiting inside opened the great doors to admit the public and Lady Drocia sat quietly as they streamed past.
As the rush cleared, the sun finally reached the steps upon which she sat. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of the sun as its warmth seeped into her bones; she might act the old woman and exaggerate her frailty but there was no escape from the effects of her terrible age.
She waited a few minutes, basking like an ancient lizard in the dawn light, then she stood and shuffled with the trickle of the faithful into the chamber of worship.
She smiled to herself, still grateful for the fortune that had gifted her one of the most powerful positions in the Empire, and mused on the irony that she should hold this position without entertaining any of the supernatural beliefs of the order she led. That didn’t stop her from engaging in the order’s regular bouts of introspection and doctrinal argument, of course, but it did allow her a certain perspective that some of her more devout cardinals lacked. Even amongst the cardinals there were non-believers, people holding their position through habit and a stubborn refusal to admit their real beliefs, or at least to face the likely consequences. Much like herself, in fact, a thought that brought another smile to her face.
She left the faithful filing dutifully to their pews or to the servery, where the junior clerics were offering the customary bread and honey, and tapped her way back across the temple towards the cloisters. In the refectory, the lay staff were serving a full breakfast of bread, fruit, cereal, pastries and preserves for the temple staff. She sat with a small group of slightly overawed groundsmen, making light conversation about the care of the rose bushes in the quadrangle and eating a bowl of porridge sweetened with raspberry jam. When she had finished, she walked slowly back to her private apartments to find Ame waiting for her.
“Good morning, Mother,” said Ame, as Lady Drocia close the door of her chamber behind her and stretched to ease the tension from her back.
“Good morning, Ame. Is that coffee I see in the pot?”
“Yes, Mother. Let me pour you a cup.”
Ame poured and Lady Drocia accepted gratefully, wrapping her hands around the cup.
“Th
e coach will be ready within the hour, Mother, and I’ve packed clothes for a week, just in case. Will you want me to accompany you today?”
“Yes, Ame. And dress… cautiously.”
Ame looked surprised.
“Cautiously? Are you expecting trouble, Mother? Should we warn the Guard?”
“Not expecting, no, but for the next few weeks it may be sensible to take extra precautions.”
“Very well, Mother. In that case, I should return to my quarters to gather some things.”
“Yes, do that. Meet me at the coach.”
Ame left and Lady Drocia took the opportunity to retrieve her key and check her notebook for interference. Nothing, which was welcome news; she had not wanted to suspect that Ame might be spying on her. If she was lucky, the spy would check the notebook while she was at The Farm and she could shorten her list of suspects.
She finished her coffee then checked her charms again, making sure they were settled and safe. When she was satisfied that everything was as it should be she collected her staff and began to make her way to the stable yard. The coach wouldn’t be ready yet, of course, but it didn’t hurt occasionally to show up early and keep the staff on their toes.
The ride to The Farm was uneventful but it seemed to Lady Drocia that it took longer every time she made the journey. Maybe that was her age but it was also true that both the city and the surrounding towns and villages had grown significantly in the last fifty years. Where once the coach would have rattled along at a fair pace, it now spent hours trundling slowly behind animals being driven to market or carts loaded with produce. Even with members of Lady Drocia’s personal guard riding ahead it was still almost mid-morning before the coach broke free of the traffic.
The road out to The Farm was much quieter and the coach made rapid progress. Lady Drocia had continued her predecessor’s policy of buying parcels of land around the Farm as they became available and so now the seminary was both secluded and quiet. The hamlets and farms within two miles of the complex had been quietly absorbed into the estate to both buffer the school from the secular world and provide for its material needs.
About a mile out from The Farm they slowed for the outer gatehouse, a modest structure set in the six-foot-high stone wall that ran for almost four miles around the complex. One of the guards rode on ahead to identify the party and by the time the coach reached the gate the road was clear. It swept across the short bridge, under the arch of the gatehouse and into The Farm proper.
They followed the road for another quarter of a mile before clearing the forest and breaking out into the plains that surrounded the seminary itself. The coach slowed slightly as it began to climb the long gentle slope that led up to the broad plateau on which The Farm had been built. Lady Drocia loved coming here in the summer when the trees were in full leaf, the grass was green and the warm breezes gave the estate a wonderful feeling of safety and contentment and peace.
The feeling faded slightly as they pulled across the bridge and under the second gatehouse into the outer courtyard of the seminary itself. There were still trees and flowers here but against the grey stone of the buildings they seemed somehow less natural, less carefree. It was all an illusion, of course; the woods on the estate might appear natural but most of the trees were less than a hundred years old and they were carefully managed to provide wood, timber, fruit and charcoal to The Farm.
Lady Drocia looked around the courtyard as she stepped down from the coach. There was a serenity about The Farm, a quietness, that Lady Drocia found comforting. Away from the bustle and the energy of the city, the seminary was a place of reflection and learning with an atmosphere that had been carefully cultivated, at least in the more public areas, to impress upon visitors the aura of quiet study and scholarly effort.
More illusion. The public areas, the library, the study rooms, the apartments and the lecture theatres were peaceful and scholarly. The inner buildings and the undercroft, where some of the more specialised courses were taught to the senior students, were anything but peaceful.
Lady Drocia was met in the courtyard by the Principal, Cardinal Jendryng. A tall, hard man with a scarred face and short-cropped hair, he looked very much like the former soldier he was. He twitched his scars into a smile as he strode quickly across the courtyard to Lady Drocia, taking her hand to kiss her ring of office.
“Mother, it is good to see you,” said the Cardinal, his voice deep and respectful. He bowed again then stepped back.
“And you, Cardinal, and you.”
Lady Drocia offered her arm and the Cardinal moved to her side to help her into the main building, leaving Ame to supervise the unloading of the coach.
“We’ll go to my study, Mother. There is much I must tell you.”
“And much that I must tell you, Cardinal.”
She hobbled slowly along the hall ways of the seminary, staff tapping, as Cardinal Jendryng walked carefully beside her. Here, out of the sunlight, the world seemed even quieter. Students, staff and servants hurried through the corridors, stopping briefly to bow or curtsey. Jendryng led Lady Drocia up the main stair case, helping her gently up each step and waiting patiently at the halfway landing while she caught her breath. Eventually they reached the Principal’s study and Cardinal Jendryng helped her to a large armchair with a view out over the courtyard.
“You can leave us, Trahan, but have cakes and coffee sent up,” said Cardinal Jendryng.
Trahan stood from his desk in the corner and bowed low.
“Yes, your Eminence,” he said, bowing also to Lady Drocia, “Mother.”
Then he backed away and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Lady Drocia waited for Trahan’s footsteps to recede.
“Come, sit, Franz. We have much to discuss. Tell me your news.”
Cardinal Jendryng sat in the armchair opposite Lady Drocia and stretched his legs out in front of him.
“I’m not really sure where to start, Mother. Most of our news you will have had already from the weekly letters. What you won’t have heard, because I wanted to speak to you in person, is that…” he stopped as there was a knock at the door.
Ame came in carrying a tray of coffee and cakes. She curtseyed to Cardinal Jendryng then put the tray down on the table between the armchairs and poured the coffee, handing one cup and a slice of fruit cake to Lady Drocia. The Cardinal waved away the cake but accepted the coffee.
“Thank you, Ame. Wait outside; make sure we are not disturbed for an hour or so and keep away anyone who looks like they might be eavesdropping,” said Lady Drocia.
“Yes, Mother.”
Ame curtsied again and left the room, closing the door carefully behind her.
Lady Drocia balanced the plate of cake on the arm of her chair as she sipped her coffee, then she sat back.
“Go on, Franz. What did you want to tell me?”
Cardinal Jendryng grimaced as if chewing something sour.
“It’s more of a feeling than a certainty, Mother, but I’ve noticed that in the last few months some of our new intake seem to be unusually quick learners, as if they’ve had training elsewhere before being sent here.”
Lady Drocia frowned.
“And you wouldn’t be telling me this if you weren’t worried. What do you fear?”
Jendryng grimaced again.
“Honestly, Mother, I’m not sure. Most of our students, I’m sure, are exactly what they appear. They arrive, they study, they’re trained, they leave, they serve. Some, though,” he paused to sip his coffee, “I think some, two or three, maybe, have been planted. They’ve been trained elsewhere and sent here to spy on us. I worry that someone has grown suspicious about our programmes and our success, that they may be conducting an illicit investigation.”
Lady Drocia put down her coffee and picked up her plate, prodding at the cake with a fork.
“Someone suspects something. Someone able to insert students into our intake. I worry, Mother, that someone in the capital ha
s seen a pattern in our placements, has grown worried about our plans and motives, and is preparing to move against us.”
Lady Drocia considered this. Political intrigues and games were everywhere within the Empire. Almost all the long-lived talented, the Ancients, played the great game, manoeuvring carefully amongst their peers for relative position, personal gratification and Imperial favour. The games tended to be long, drawn-out affairs, utilising all the tools and resources that the talented could gather over centuries of work and effort.
The Emperor knew, of course. He had his own resources - spies and informants, specialists like the Kareethi, the civil service, several armies - with which to counter or confound the schemes he didn’t like. Sometimes he would simply disrupt the plots of people who had fallen out of favour or whose embarrassment might be particularly entertaining.
Most of these schemes would fizzle out or fail quietly, some would run for years as the players moved and counter-moved, a few would explode into hugely embarrassing or damaging scandals. The rest? It was impossible to say for sure but for each plot that was seen or known or uncovered there were probably a dozen others that nobody ever knew about.
Uncovering or exposing other people’s plots was almost as good as having one of your own come to fruition. Information she received from her carefully cultivated networks had allowed Lady Drocia, on occasion, to cause significant embarrassment to some of her most ancient rivals. At other times, she had been able to subvert their schemes to deliver an outcome more in keeping with her overall aims. She was good at the great game and, like all good players, she took seriously any hint of a threat to her power.
“Two or three, you think?”
The Cardinal nodded.
“Well, it’s only a surprise that nobody became interested before now. Let’s see… Knowing that there are spies might be useful, if we can find out who they’re working for. Do any of them show particular promise?”