Herine laughed. She couldn't help herself.
'You think the Conquord is no longer in danger? God-embrace-me, do you never look beyond your borders? The Omari have not ceased their aggression and Conquord legions stand on your borders keeping them back. The Tsardon have not gone away. Like us, they await a return to full strength. My own son is in Sirrane, trying to forge an alliance that might just save us next time they threaten invasion. You think you will be safe because my flag doesn't fly over the palace of Cabrius? You and your Marshal Defender are deluded if you believe that. Remove yourself from the Conquord and make yourself weak.'
'Not so, Herine. We are only under threat because we are part of the Conquord. The Omari are no threat to those who do not threaten them. We have alliances going back generations which were only broken when your flag began to fly in our lands. There is no other way for Dornos. You cannot force your will upon us any longer. When I return to Cabrius, the Estorean consul and all non-Dornosean legions will be expelled. Our agreement with Omari is already in place.'
Herine rose. 'Then go,' she said. 'And do not look to us for aid when your folly is revealed to you and your people are dying in front of you. You think you're clever, timing this when we are diverted to Atreska and Bahkir. It is indeed a clever piece of work. But flawed. Because as all Atreska now knows, and as you will discover, we always come back for what is ours. And the second time, we are not so flexible with our rule.
'Go home and look to your borders north, south and east. Enemies will come and you will beg me for forgiveness before the end. You will get none. I do not know you, Ambassador Tharin.'
'We must still work together as independent nations,' said Tharin.
'We will do no such thing. Dornos belongs to the Conquord. And any who think our relative weakness permanent is making a grave mistake. It is now that I look to my friends and know those who believe in my vision. This chamber is bereft of them.'
Chapter Five
859th cycle of God, 4th day of Genasrise
Herine walked towards the Ascendancy Academy with Jhered at her side. She'd ignored the problems too long. She had hoped the citizens would see the good running through the veins of the Ascendants. But the suspicion had lingered. And the mistrust was stoked by the Chancellor, her large army of faithful Readers and Speakers and, of course, the Armour of God.
Felice Koroyan had proved an implacable opponent. Herine had believed that nothing but time would expose her fears for the falsehoods they were. Nothing but numbers of Ascendants growing to maturity and being seeded from all across the Conquord. The process had begun but it would be a long one. And in the intervening period, more of her doubting territories would question their allegiance. Something had to change.
Herine was scared she was losing the battle for the hearts of her citizens.
They walked into the Academy, its hypocaust-fed warmth comforting now the genastro sun had lost its potency. The former halls of the Chancellor of the Omniscient had been quickly converted into a centre of excellence for all that Felice despised. Herine still remembered the moment. Sweet at the time but she had miscalculated the persistency of Koroyan's hate and the groundswell of support that the Chancellor had maintained this past decade.
It wasn't just Dornos or Bahkir. There was discontent everywhere. Even in Estorr, capital of the Conquord. And she needed strength and solidarity right now or her rule might begin to slip.
Jhered directed her along a marbled corridor, recessed and set with busts of Chancellors and heroes of the Omniscient past. It also held a bust of Ardol Kessian at its western end, welcoming all to the
Academy. The most famous recent Father of the Ascendancy, killed by a Chancellor whose faith he followed so unstintingly. A man Herine had never met but whom Jhered had respected enormously.
'Was it folly, do you think, bringing the Ascendancy in here?' asked Herine.
'It was the only place,' said Jhered. 'Not just because they needed the security of the palace complex. You had to make a statement of their place in the eyes of the Omniscient. And you did. It is an enduring shame that so few seem to have listened to you and believed you.'
'Not even my eldest son,' said Herine. 'And it is he who will succeed me.'
Jhered chuckled. He towered above Herine and she had to hurry to keep up with his easy long stride. Here was one man at least who would never question her authority, even if he sometimes disagreed with her methods.
'I wouldn't worry about Roberto. He'll always be a soldier at heart and he worries about their power as a battlefield weapon in the wrong hands. He doesn't know them like we do. He's been away so long. He hasn't seen them grow as we have.'
'So he's going to be very unhappy to hear Gorian is still alive,' said Herine.
Jhered inclined his head. 'It will feed his concern. But he's not stupid. It makes the Academy even more important.'
'Well that depends on your point of view. An investigation of purity or a school of evil.'
'Don't lose heart, Herine. You're the head of this religion. The people will come round.'
'But how long will it take? Another decade, twenty years. Forty? We can't afford these divisions. God-surround-me, they should have closed by now but I actually think they are beginning to widen. Why is that, do you think?'
'Ah well,' said Jhered. 'I think I have an answer to that.'
'And?'
'The Order has a House of Masks in every hamlet in the Conquord. Readers and Speakers numbering thousands teach the scriptures every day. And they are backed by almost nine hundred years of history. More if you want to trace the roots back before the Conquord. And the Ascendancy, for all your support, is effectively a guerrilla movement. They ride into towns with your seal, seek out people who would once have hidden and spirit them away. Those that are left behind have nothing but the Order to explain what had just happened. Think about it, Herine. There are only three Ascendants in adulthood.' 'Four.'
'We don't count the other one. They are not enough to lift their deeds beyond rumour. People are yet to believe. Perhaps they never will.'
They passed the library where all the accumulated knowledge of the Ascendancy was stored. A room that creaked with secret history. Herine felt nervous even stepping through the door. On the right, there was a reception room where those displaying signs of active or passive talent were inducted into the Ascendancy. And further on, administration and record-keeping rooms where a knowledge base was building. Over the generations, it would guide and chart the germination of the Ascendancy until, with everyone exhibiting talent sometime in the far future, it would itself become a historical curiosity.
That, Herine had to assume, was progress. Yet there were times when she awoke, anxious at what she was nurturing. It was a feeling that wouldn't quite die.
'So was I wrong to believe in them myself?'
'No,' said Jhered, and Herine could feel the force of his response. 'You made a decision that history will mark as both brave and inspired. But the result is unsettled times.'
Herine nodded and her mood eased. She smiled. 'Great. You know I had thought I might be revered while I was still alive. Posthumous deification is of no use to me.'
Jhered laughed out loud, the sound bouncing from the walls.
'Think yourself lucky. My legacy is one of being the thorn in the side of every citizen. What is of no use to you would be wonderful for me.'
'I know your worth.'
Jhered bowed. 'And in truth, that is enough.'
They stopped outside a small classroom. Mirron was teaching five emerged Ascendants under the watchful eye of Hesther Naravny, the Mother of the Ascendancy. The students were all seventeen years old. They were the tenth strand and developing beautifully. Elsewhere, small groups of citizens, young and old, from across the Conquord were being schooled in an ancient knowledge that until recently had been submerged beneath a tide of prejudice. Most would lose their talents. Some would be asked to become mothers and fathers of future strands. Some w
ould refuse. The wheel turned so slowly.
Jhered opened the door and Herine walked in, waving everyone back into their seats. There was a hush in the classroom.
'I am sorry to disturb, Mirron. Do you mind if we sit in and listen?'
Mirron smiled. 'No, of course not, my Advocate. It is an honour.' She turned back to her class. 'Real pressure on those answers now, eh?'
The laughter was nervous.
'Right. Back to the lesson. Not long to go now. Cygalius, you were in the midst of telling us the theory behind moulding the energy map of quick energy, like fire, from a slow energy. You correctly suggested a tree would be an ideal example. Continue.'
'Um—' The flame-haired youth glanced around at Herine and blushed across his pale features. 'Well, I - um - like I was saying, they - um—'
'Oh, I am sorry,' said Herine, suppressing a laugh. 'I've put you off. Please don't worry. You can say anything you like and I won't know whether you are right or wrong.'
More nervous giggles in the classroom. Cygalius managed a smile, took a deep breath and began to speak. Herine sat back in her chair and listened. Next to her, Jhered settled uncomfortably into a chair far too small for him, grumbling very quietly. For his part, Cygalius grew in confidence under the encouraging nods of Mirron and by the end, he had plainly forgotten who it was sat behind him.
'Very good,' said Mirron. 'Very good.'
Jhered leaned into Herine. 'Just like old times. An Ascendant speaks and I have no idea what they're talking about.'
'Quiet at the back there,' said Mirron.
'Sorry, teacher,' said Jhered. 'It won't happen again.'
The classroom dissolved into laughter. Mirron clapped her hands.
'All right, you lot. As you can see, I have a meeting to attend so you can go. Now I want you all to study Arducius's texts on amplifying rain clouds and prepare yourselves for a practical with the man himself in two days. Today has been excellent. And before you ask, getting you outside to work for others is coming. Very soon. Now go.'
Herine stood with Jhered while the students left the room, giving them a salute which Jhered returned. Their excited babble rose in volume outside in the corridor.
'Do you mean what you said about working outside?' asked Herine.
'We've been assessing them for a season,' said Hesther, taking the lead. 'Their development has been exceptional for a year. Psychologically, they are ready. It's fine control they lack.'
'Good, good,' said Herine. 'We'll take that on in the meeting. Where are the others?'
'In the Chancellery,' said Mirron. 'After you, my Advocate.'
The Chancellery had lost none of its splendour. Tapestries and paintings hung on veined marble walls, depicting the glories of the Omniscient. Statues and busts stood in huge galleries around grand gardens where the sound of fountains lent an idyllic quality to the air. Tundarran weave and Morasian leather upholstered every piece of furniture. Scripture quotes topped every lintel. Sirranean timber formed every table, desk and bed frame. Felice Koroyan certainly had an eye for the finer things in life. None of the scriptures she chose for the Chancellery referred to abstinence. Leastways, not amongst Order ministers.
They were shown into a dining room overlooking an open but netted rockery in which a dozen species of small bird fluttered and water tumbled over beautifully carved stone. Carp lazed in a deep pond.
Food and wine were on the central table. Ossacer and Arducius were already seated and talking. Mirron sat with them as she always would. Herine placed herself in an upright chair while Jhered chose to stand and look out over the rockery. Hesther took her leave. The teaching day had not finished for all.
'You still haven't changed anything in here,' said Herine, taking in statues, furnishings and wall coverings.
'We are tenants,' said Ossacer. 'One day, a Chancellor will live here again and we will sit and eat together as one under the Omniscient.'
'Not any time soon,' said Herine.
'We can but pray,' said Arducius.
'I fear that may not be enough,' said Herine. 'But our theological future is a debate for another day, I'm afraid.'
She paused and studied the Ascendants. All were struggling with the news they'd heard and she had some sympathy with that.
'I don't know quite where to start,' she said, then smiled briefly. 'At home seems the best place.'
'What do you want to know?' asked Arducius.
Herine waved a hand back towards the palace. 'I've just had the Dornosean ambassador telling me that Dornos is leaving the Conquord. He blames the levy of course but deep inside, I think he blames you and your effects on the ordinary citizen, who is confused by the direction our faith is taking. Tell me, is he right? I've heard what my Exchequer has to say. What do you think? Is the Ascendancy tearing the Conquord apart? Am I losing my own people because I chose to support you?'
Arducius blew out his cheeks and scratched at an ear while he sought a response. Mirron was looking a little angry. Ossacer remained stone-faced.
'That was not quite the question I was expecting,' said Arducius. 'Clearly,' said Herine. 'But surely one for which an answer is at your fingertips.' 'The records—'
'Damn the records, Mirron,' snapped Herine. 'They say everything about who you have saved and who has been brought to the Academy and who has been persuaded by your arguments. They say nothing about who has turned their backs on the Omniscient entirely and are now lost to me, you and the Chancellor. I cannot afford any further fracturing of the religious authority on the Hill. Certainly not in the light of our new information. So tell me. What is it really like out there? How long will my servants have to keep scouring the graffiti from my walls—' she pointed in the direction of the Victory Gates '— and from the statues of our great generals out there beyond our little sanctuary?'
'Generations,' said Ossacer quietly.
Herine nodded. 'Well, that's honest at least. Why?'
'We're trying to adapt hundreds of years of teaching. We're trying to bring a truth to people who are mostly unwilling to hear it. And every time we open our mouths, the Chancellor is there to call us liars and heretics. If you want us to educate more effectively and more quickly, you have to remove or gag her.'
At the doorway to the rockery, Jhered drew in a sharp intake of breath and looked round, catching Herine's eye. He shook his head minutely. Herine relaxed just a little.
'As I have said to more people than you have seen dawns, there is nothing I have to do. Being the Advocate has its few privileges.'
‘I didn't mean to—'
Herine held up a hand. 'I'm talking now, Arducius.'
She stopped speaking and looked down at the table. She took a plate and helped herself to some cut fruit and cured meat. She poured herself a goblet of wine having waved away the servant. She leant back.
'A long time ago, well before the Advocacy had even heard of your existence, Felice Koroyan used to implore me to give her more power. Ban religions, hire more legions, remove difficult individuals. But it is not the Del Aglios way. Felice disagrees with my stance on the Ascendancy and has exiled herself from the Hill to preach her brand of the Order. That is not in itself a crime. That she still calls herself Chancellor is a borderline offence but it is merely the name all know her by. Can I put someone in chains for using the name with which they are familiar? Well, actually, I can in this case but there's another problem.'
Herine sipped her wine and caught Jhered's growing smile. She leaned forward.
'Let me ask you, what do you think would happen if I were to remove Felice from her role as Chancellor? A role that, conservatively, ninety-five per cent of the citizens of my Conquord revere her for?'
Arducius spread his hands. 'Well, surely it would send out the message that the Order must embrace the Ascendancy because you, as His representative on earth want it to be so.'
'Then thank the Omniscient you will never be Advocate. "Must" and "want" are no good to me. You're young, Arducius, but this naivety is
alarming in one in whom I have trusted so much. The moment I depose the Chancellor, I make enemies out of most of my people. They won't see a message. They will see the seeds of tyranny. They will see repression. And how can I be seen to repress the Order? Me. Felice knows it, I know it. So I will tell you what I always told her. You must win the theological argument. I believe in you. Make others do the same.'
'It isn't quite that simple,' said Ossacer. 'But it will get easier. The next strand is almost ready to stand by you. The numbers of passive-ability citizens is growing. The balance is shifting. You have to trust that we will bring the people round however long it takes.'
'So Paul tells me,' said Herine. 'But I don't have the luxury of time. Neither do you. I will not be around for generations, Ossacer, and when I'm gone, Roberto will be Advocate. But even in the intervening period, if I feel I am losing the support of the citizenry, my hand may be forced.'
'But you can't go back,' said Mirron. 'You can't afford to show such weakness.'
'Oh my dear, it would never appear as weakness, believe me,' said Herine.
'You think our approach has been wrong?' asked Arducius.
'Not entirely,' said Herine. 'I support the need to bring Ascendancy potential here to the Hill from wherever it is found. But I think you've recently been neglecting problems which are very close to home. I look out on my capital city and it is still uneasy about you. Ten years on. I know you've only been active for five but even so ... we've all seen the protests and we've read what has been daubed on the walls.
'You shouldn't need a bodyguard to visit Taverna Alcarin, should you?'
Arducius scratched at his head. 'You could argue that this is the hardest place to convince.'
'You could argue but I don't much care,' said Herine. 'Felice Koroyan never comes here because she believes her position to be so strong. And she isn't far wrong is she? The Speakers of the Winds, the Oceans and the Earth have a stranglehold over large parts of the citizenry and you have not been out to oppose them seriously in what, three years?'
A Shout for the Dead Page 5