“But not you.” She sounded unconvinced by Bell’s explanation, but Bell had nothing more to offer her.
“No.”
The Grand dropped her eyes and studied her hands. She flexed them, opening and then closing them around her reins. She sounded uninterested when she asked, “Do you know the High Cleric’s interest in this war, Bell?”
As the war was a military matter, Bell saw no reason to lie to her. “Everyone says it’s about ending the Vandu raids, but I suspect it’s about the book.”
“The book?” the Grand asked, her eyes taking on a sudden interest.
“Yes, Grand. Teachings of a Whore, one of Dydal’s works. It is what the Cleric sent Trin here for, to get the book for him. But then again… we were marching before Trin even came back with a response, so maybe it’s something else.”
“Are you here to retrieve this book?”
“I was given no orders to do so. If I’m part of a wider plot, I was not informed.”
“But you believe he wants this book?”
“Yes, and that bothers me.”
She gave him a quizzical glance. “Explain.”
Bell shrugged. “I would rather this war be for ending bloodshed, than for a trinket, but I suppose I have to trust the High Cleric.”
“So, you do trust him, then?”
Realizing that he’d shared more than he had intended, Bell coughed.
“Uh, yes, I suppose I do.”
The Grand Legionnaire waited expectantly, but Bell did not elaborate. The twinkle in her eye faded, turning to disappointment. “That is unfortunate. Miss Cavahl gave me the impression that you would do the right thing.”
Bell’s lungs stopped. When he realized, he had to force his breathing out, as if it had been caught in a clogged well pump. What would she and Trin have to talk about? His palms were clammy. I hope she’s okay.
“I try to,” Bell said weakly.
“Then speak plain. Tell me your opinion of the High Cleric.”
Bell had nowhere else to flee. He sighed then spoke grudgingly. “I like him. I don’t know why, but I trust him. He seems to be indifferent. And the way he treats Ivan…” Bell’s face blanched. He swallowed, unable to finish the remark. “But again and again, his choices seem to be the right one, the compassionate one: ending the Writ, raising Gable from a vassal to a true province and allowing them to choose their own deacon, removing the deaconship from Deacon Indaht Trask and closing the mines at Liv. It all seems to be for the betterment of Trel and I admire that.”
Legionnaire Cyleste grunted a laugh. “If you like him, why would you fear to tell me?”
“Didn’t seem right.”
“But you were willing to tell me about the book.”
Bell nodded. “That’s different,” he said. “I’m a legionnaire and you’re the Grand Legionnaire, so things pertaining to the war are in your purview and mine. It is relevant. My opinions of the High Cleric are not. Giving them just seems like gossip.”
The Grand Legionnaire studied him for many moments. The gaze didn’t make Bell nervous, just uncomfortable. What she asked was simple, but he didn’t like being caught between two superiors.
Bell stifled a laugh. If the Drennish were supposed to look out for one another, neither the High Cleric nor the Grand Legionnaire knew it.
“Is Legionnaire Skibs here to retrieve the book?” the Grand asked.
Bell considered. He had spent a great deal of time trying to reason this out in the weeks since they’d left Lane, ever since he had seen Jem holding the High Cleric’s staff. “Not that I know,” he said.
Something in his tone or face must have given away that he had more to say, for Cyleste glared at him. He didn’t want to drag the boy into this, but Bell suspected he’d already done so.
“But you know who is,” she pressed.
“Just speculation.”
The Grand rolled her hand, motioning that he should continue.
Bell swallowed and obeyed. “If it isn’t you yourself that’s here to retrieve the book for him, then I’d have to suspect Jem.”
“The boy the First Legionnaire hired to be his scribe? I don’t understand. What is important about that boy?”
“From talking to him? Nothing. He’s said nothing to convince me that he’s anything more than an innocent kid who’s had an unfortunate life. But he carries the High Cleric’s staff everywhere he goes. The two have met.”
“And now he serves Taehrn.” The Grand looked unhappy, her brows furrowed into something worse than a frown, but less than a scowl, somewhere near disgust. “You see the problem I face, do you not, Bell Cobbren?”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
Grand Legionnaire Cyleste shook her head, her disgust softening. “I have spoken with your friend Trin,” she said.
“Yes, I recall.” What does Trin have to do with this? Gods, leave her be.
“She speaks very highly of you, Legionnaire. Is it true that you haven’t chosen a cult?”
“That’s true, but I don’t understand what that has to do with Trin.” Bell got the impression the Grand was trying to mislead him. The High Cleric, Jem, and Trin. She’s interested in Jem for some reason. It’s the only thread that connects them all. Bell swallowed. Well, not the only thread. There’s also me, but what would she want with me?
The Grand Legionnaire smiled. “No, I suppose those things are unconnected. Would you tell me your opinion of First Legionnaire Taehrn Andren? Or would that also be gossip?” Her voice rose with the final comment, a tint of humor in the words. If Bell didn’t know better, he’d think she were making a joke. Or mocking him, that was possible, too. Either way, Bell ignored the jab.
“I have known him for many years. We have been friends since childhood. He is the person who encouraged me to join the Legion and I am glad that he did.” Most of the time.
“Will you do anything to protect him?” Cyleste asked.
Bell shrugged. “Yes, I suppose I would.”
“Anything?”
“Of course, he is a friend.”
Legionnaire Cyleste turned her horse and her face returned to stone, her back stiffening. With a folding of a palm, she motioned him to follow. Bell felt as though he’d said something wrong, but what it was, he didn’t know. Of course I would protect Taehrn. Why wouldn’t I? Gods, can’t I be a priest for the religion and none of the politics?
Bell did not follow. “Excuse me, Grand,” he said.
She stopped her horse, her face a question.
“I apologize for being blunt, but I think I should say this to you plain, as you suggested earlier.”
“Go ahead, Legionnaire.”
“I don’t know why you’re asking me all these questions. I decided to become a legionnaire because I don’t enjoy the political maneuvering of the priesthood, so if it’s an interest in Jem, I don’t have much to tell you, but if it is that, just come out and ask. If it’s not Jem – if I am the reason you ask these questions – then I don’t know what I can offer you. But again, stop trying to string me along and tell me what you want. You seem not to like that I would help Taehrn. I don’t understand why that would upset you. He’s a friend and a superior officer. More than that, I’d protect anyone that needed it, and I don’t see where the trouble is in that. I am a legionnaire. It is what we do.”
For a moment the Grand Legionnaire looked ashamed, a brief frown, but Bell was certain he’d seen it. “Sometimes I forget our duty, Legionnaire Bell.” She paused, then, “You are right. I have been too secretive. My interest is in you, and whether or not I can trust you. The Cleric is crafty, but he and I seem to have an understanding. He sent me two of his Owl Guard and though he sent you as scouts, I think it is time that I used you and Skibs for your intended purpose.”
“Grand?”
“Gather your squad, Bell Cobbren and report back to me.” The Grand turned back to the top of the hill. “Marl!” she shouted. “Cancel formation. Set up camp. Begin digging the trenches.”
“Do as I say, Herald! This engagement will gain us little. For now, we wait.”
Marl motioned to the hornsman and the man nodded, followed by a long peal from his curved trumpet.
The Grand Legionnaire turned her head to Bell. “Did I not dismiss you?”
“Uh, yes, of course,” Bell said. He saluted then set off to meet Skibs and the others.
The Grand Legionnaire spoke over his shoulder. “You should consider Just’s cult, Legionnaire. You have a good sense of right and wrong. A good sense of justice.”
“Thank you,” Bell said. Thankfully, his tone didn’t carry the unease he felt at her suggestion.
As he walked away, Marl was already riding to the Grand. He heard the two arguing – some discussion about the army’s supplies – but Bell did not listen. Though he was somewhat relieved, he had a sickening feeling tugging at him, tying knots in his stomach. The Grand’s interest was in him, which meant Trin was beneath the Grand’s notice so long as Bell cooperated, but that did not explain what she wanted from Bell. Use us for our purpose? She’s going to install us as her personal guard… But she must want more than that.
Heading for his squad, Bell forced the thought away. The Grand would do what was best for Trel and for the Legion, so there wasn’t any reason for Bell to worry. A good sense of right and wrong… It’s possible… Bell had heard rumors that legionnaires were often groomed for higher service within the priesthood. It was even said that Taehrn had been placed within the ranks of the numbered legionnaires because of Magistrate Godahn’s interest in him. Bell had never asked Taehrn about it, but it seemed reasonable. The High Cleric had already chosen Bell for some unknown reason – perhaps it had been his grandmother’s request before she died, or maybe it was a suggestion from Taehrn – but Bell preferred to believe the reason was some quality he had that others admired.
But he didn’t know what quality that might be. He was no strategist. The political scheming within the priesthood had always confounded him. He was no great warrior; he’d seen too little combat and the combat he had seen had been against inexperienced foes. Perhaps his failure to recognize what others saw was the reason he could not choose a patron.
A good sense of justice. Bell would take that as a compliment, if only he knew what it meant.
In her time, Bell’s grandmother had been the Sovereign of Just’s cult, so he was familiar with the cult’s structure and teachings. Her influence had pushed Bell’s father into the cult as well, though he had never risen so high as his mother. Rumor said that Grand Legionnaire Cyleste was the cult’s current Sovereign, though the title was held secret until after a Sovereign’s death.
It would please Bell’s family to no end should he swear himself doubly to Just, in both priestship and as a member of the Legion. His grandmother and father had tried to push Bell into it often enough. With less thought, it should be an easy choice. The family choice. But Bell could not do it. He could not swear himself to Justice.
It was true, all of doctrine spoke well of Just and the ideal he represented. All of doctrine praised him as one of the most noble and powerful of gods. Many said he was second only to the Mother in importance and strength. And yet, something held Bell back, a flaw in logic that Bell could not overcome.
That ‘something’ was not rebellion. It wasn’t spite. His grandmother had held some unsavory beliefs, but she hadn’t been a bad woman. Bell wasn’t refusing Just simply because it was the god his family insisted on. Bell loved his family, and to him, that kind of juvenile rebellion seemed pointless and silly.
Though Skibs joked that it was Bell’s rampant indecision that forestalled his choice – a joke Bell protested vehemently; he was not indecisive – a deeper conflict held him from choosing Just. It surprised Bell that other legionnaires did not weigh this choice as carefully as he did. The decision was binding, a promise of kinship to the god that should represent one’s own spirit. It was not a choice Bell could make without extensive reflection. And yet, everyone else treats the choice as a rite of passage, as something to be done for the sake of proving worth, when it should be done for the underlying meaning.
Perhaps Bell was being unfair. Maybe other legionnaires already knew who they were. Maybe they already knew their soul, knew their spirit, and knew the patron that best represented it. Maybe it was Bell alone who had trouble discerning who he was.
Or maybe it was Trin… maybe he could not choose a god, because it would be an admission the gods existed… that Fate existed.
No, Bell thought, the act itself is the problem. To choose a single god, a single attribute to represent the entirety of my being. Perhaps the error is in choosing another to represent what only I can represent. Such a thing cannot be done.
And despite this certainty, Bell knew he would continue searching for a patron. There was comfort in the bond, in the tying of one’s soul to a purer being. He wanted that comfort. And if it could not be found, he would continue searching anyway, if only to appease his family and his fellow legionnaires. But he was certain. His patron would not be Just. If Just’s Legion could go to war to retrieve a mere book, then Bell could not understand the god, nor his aspect.
He had told Legionnaire Cyleste a half-truth. He was thankful to have joined the Legion, and he had no regret for doing so, but he was not always glad for his choice. Bell trusted the High Cleric, but he feared this siege might become another black mark in the Legion’s – and the priesthood’s – history. If only our purpose were to subdue the Vandu as rumored. That at least, is something I can understand.
Bell sighed as he walked into camp. Perval, Kenneth, and Acklin were at the edge of their assigned square, setting up the tent they shared with Bern. Kenneth called Bell’s name in greeting then turned back to tying a line to a stake. The other two nodded, and then they too, returned to their work. Skibs kneeled before a freshly dug fire pit, blowing into a pile of tinder, and Rise stood at his side, holding a chunk of flint, her head turned up and away from her husband impatiently. Rise was the better at starting fires, yet Skibs insisted on doing it anyway. He claimed the reason was practice, but Bell was certain that he did it only to annoy his wife. Bell was equally certain that Rise knew that fact and loved him for it. The two had a strange relationship, but it seemed a happy one.
At Kenneth’s call, Skibs looked up from the fire. “Pleasant meeting?” he asked.
“An unusual one,” Bell answered, biting his lip. This might be a conversation better made private, but it seemed unfair to leave his squad out. The decisions he discussed with Skibs would affect them as well, and they needed to know what they faced. Every scout understood that imperfect knowledge was the quickest route to failure, so he would not deny them anything.
“Skibs. Did the High Cleric tell you why we’re here?”
Rise turned her head to Bell. Whatever she was thinking, Bell couldn’t read it by looking at her.
Skibs grunted. “Course not. Yer’ve met him. Ain’t a spot a reason in that one.”
“Do you speak with him ever?”
“An odd word here and there, but nothing substantial. He ignores me most the time I’m on duty. Talks only ter Ivan. Why? What’s bothering yer?”
“Trin,” Bell admitted. “He sent her for that damned book and now here we are at Dekahn’s gates. It’s no coincidence that he sent the two of us after she failed, and it’s no coincidence that the Grand Legionnaire has taken a sudden interest in us. I saw her talking with Trin before we left. And now the Grand has called me twice to speak with her. She told me outright that she wants me near her. That I ‘interest’ her for some reason. I don’t buy it. She wants something from us and I want Trin left out of it.”
Rise gave him a sad smile. “Trin will be okay, Bell. She’s a smart woman.”
Bell nodded. “I know that, Rise. I know, but I don’t like this. I can’t figure out why the High Cleric sent us, and it seems like the Grand can’t figure it out either.”
“What did she say?” Skibs asked.
“She asked me about the High Cleric, and then a few questions about Jem and Taehrn.”
“What did she ask about the Cleric?”
“Just my opinion about him.”
Rise laughed. “Oh, she doesn’t care about him,” she said.
“What?”
“She’s been the Grand for fifteen years. She’s already made up her mind about the High Cleric. She’s trying to gauge your merits by what you think of him. Like when Trin talks about Third Legionnaire Marl. Trin’s a fine woman, but her dislike of Marl says more about her than it does about the Herald. The Grand is using the same logic. She wants to know if you’ve come to the same conclusions as her, and if not, she wants to know why.”
“The wife is right, Bell,” Skibs said.
“The wife?” Rise mocked.
“Well, I’ve only got ther one.”
“As if you could find another. There isn’t another woman as dumb as me.”
“And I praise the gods there is at least ther one.” Skibs smiled then turned to the fire. Rise rolled her eyes, but once Skibs couldn’t see her face, she echoed the smile.
Perval and Kenneth stepped to the firepit as Acklin disappeared into the now risen tent.
“Did she tell ya why we’re not out there killing Vandu?” Kenneth asked.
Bell shook his head. “No, she didn’t. She just told me to gather everyone and report back to her.”
“Report back ter her?” Skibs asked.
“Yeah. I got the impression that she’s decided to enlist us as her guard.”
A look passed between Perval and Kenneth. Kenneth flashed an odd smile.
“You must have given her the answer she wanted,” Rise said.
“Or she wants yer closer ‘cause yer gave her ther answer she didn’t.”
Rise shrugged, acceding to her husband’s remark.
“Her personal guard, eh?” Kenneth said. “I knew we was good scouts, but I didn’t know we was that good.”
“I don’t know if she’ll move our camp,” Bell said to Kenneth, “but you better catch Acklin before he falls asleep. She didn’t sound keen on waiting for us. And find Bern and Tel if you can, please, Kenneth.”
Death's Merchant: Common Among Gods - Book One Page 48