Cry of the Newborn

by James Barclay

  D'Allinnius nodded, apparently satisfied, and closed his eyes. Jhered watched him for a moment to be sure he hadn't slipped away. He rose and his anger began to surge.

  'Harkov, looks like your job in Caraduk has just become a lot more pressing. And you.' He grabbed the surgeon's arm and squeezed. 'You say nothing of what you have just heard. Nothing.'

  She stared back. 'A surgeon never discusses her patient with any other.'

  Jhered let go. 'Be sure you don't. It's too important, believe me.'

  'You can trust me.'

  'See that remains the case.'

  Jhered strode for the door and hauled it open. He marched fast across the gardens and into the palace proper, entering through the administrative offices. He passed ranks of desks and piles of papers and scrolls. People picked their heads up to watch him go by. He kept his eyes fixed ahead and his gladius tight to his side. Through the offices he went and into the central hallway from which ran corridors to the colonnaded gardens, grand reception rooms and the Advocacy hall. He didn't break stride all the way to the Advocate's private chambers. The hour was early and unless she was ill, she would still be asleep.

  With Harkov in his boot prints, he ran up the broad stairway and barked aside the guards at its head. Outside Herine's door he was blocked by two personal bodyguards crossing their spears in front of his face.

  'The Advocate is still at rest, my lord,' said one. 'Then it is time she was awake. The Conquord struggles without her.'

  'We cannot grant you admittance, Exchequer Jhered,' said the other.

  Jhered drew himself up and glared down at them. 'Your diligence does you credit,' he said. 'But I am ordering you to stand aside. I will speak with the Advocate.'

  'We cannot,' said one nervously.

  'Fools,' hissed Jhered. 'I mean her no harm. It is your delay that will cause it. Oh, dammit.' He unbuckled his sword belt, dropped it to the ground and snapped his fingers at Harkov to do the same. 'Watch over me if you must but I will see her now.'

  The delay was short. The guards glanced at the intricately designed

  scabbards on the ground and then back at the Exchequer. Their spears moved aside. 'Good decision.'

  Jhered threw open the double doors and walked into the heavily scented and draped gloom. A small sliver of light fell across the bed in which he could just make out two forms. It was his boots ringing on the marble of the apron that woke the pair. Herine shouted in surprise.

  'Don't worry, my Advocate, it is Jhered and Harkov.'

  Jhered said nothing more while he walked to the bed. Its fine weave sheets and Conquord green coverings were knotted and dishevelled.

  'What the hell do you think you are doing, bursting in here like this?'

  'Trying to save your Conquord,' said Jhered. 'From those who would undermine your authority to satisfy their own warped ethics.' ‘I beg your pardon?' she said.

  Jhered's eyes adjusted to the dim light. Herine was sitting up against a pile of cushions. Her hair was held in a net and she was wearing a sleeveless gown. The consort had retreated to the far side of the bed and was trying to look inconspicuous. Jhered stabbed a finger at him.

  'Do I really have to tell you what to do?' he growled.

  The consort, lithe body muscled and toned, leapt from the bed like a startled cat and ran for the doors, grabbing a cushion to cover himself on the way.

  'You will go that step too far one day,' said Herine. 'Even you are not above the law of the Conquord.'

  'And is the Chancellor?'

  'No one but me,' said Herine, regaining a little composure. 'Then you must have her arrested now. It was she who tortured D'Allinnius. Personally.'

  Herine was quiet. 'He didn't die, then?'

  'What? No,' said Jhered. 'Though how he didn't, I have no idea. But he has identified her. I can't order her arrest. You can.'

  Herine moved to the side of the bed and got up. She took a wrap from a chair and covered herself more completely. She spared Harkov a glare and walked to one of her recliners. She sat and poured herself some water from a jug.

  'It's too late for that,' she said.

  Jhered frowned. 'What do you mean? She's already in custody?' 'No, but she's already left Estorr.' Jhered went cold. 'What? When?' 'Two days ago, late in the evening.'

  'I'm confused,' he said. 'We spoke of who we felt might have committed this crime on Orin and yet you didn't tell me she was leaving, let alone stop her yourself?'

  Herine spread her hands. 'It seems to me that justice will be done under God.'

  Jhered opened his mouth and shut it again straight away, turning instead to Harkov. 'Captain, would you wait for me in my offices, please?'

  'My Lord,' he saluted, right fist slapping into his chest. He bowed to Herine. 'My Advocate.'

  When he was gone, Jhered turned his ire on the Advocate. 'Justice? Have you taken leave of your senses?'

  'I will not be spoken to—'

  'Dammit you will listen to me, Herine. Does nothing we talked about mean anything to you? The Chancellor will go to Westfallen and the justice she will mete out will leave that town burned to the ground along with everyone in it, innocent and complicit alike.

  'What happened to your desire to see them tried in Estorr? The laws of this Conquord, which you apparently hold dear demand that happen. You cannot let the Chancellor do this.'

  'Cannot?' The Advocate raised her eyebrows. 'There is nothing I "cannot" do, Exchequer Jhered. And why would I not decide that this clear case of heresy be judged by the Chancellor of the Order of Omniscience?'

  'Because you know the violence of the judgement she will make. Because you know that she will act outside the laws of the Conquord and hide behind the face of God.' Jhered put his face in his hands. 'Herine, what have you done?'

  'What I should have done at the outset,' she said. 'Were I not blinded by my allegiance to you and Vasselis.'

  'You are making a very grave mistake,' he said and paused, another uncomfortable thought in his mind. 'Did you know she had tortured Orin herself?'

  Herine stood up and stalked towards him. 'What happened to

  Orin was very unfortunate and I am saddened the Chancellor was present. I pray he will recover and if you for one moment suggest that I condone such actions I will have you removed from office, believe me.

  'You are walking a very fine line. Don't push me any further, Paul. I have a Conquord to run and my decision is that matters of heresy will be dealt with by those with the experience and the knowledge to make judgement under God. That, if you are feeling slow, means the Chancellor.

  'But if you feel you should be present to maintain justice, if you think Vasselis is unable to do that for himself, then you have my permission to return to Westfallen. See if you can catch the Chancellor.'

  Jhered stared down at her. He couldn't understand what had happened. This woman knew the excesses of the Chancellor better than any of them. A year ago she would have been rebuked, controlled. Now the shackles were off and Jhered felt unable to change the Advocate's mind. So much in their relationship had changed.

  'No,' he said. 'Harkov is entirely capable. And I will serve the cause of the Conquord better by travelling to Atreska.'

  Herine nodded. 'This'll be twice I'm happy you aren't here.'

  'Yes,' said Jhered. 'And when I return, we will sit and talk about whether I can still work for the Advocacy. Because these days, my views on how we should best serve our citizens seem to differ fundamentally from yours.'

  She shrugged. 'Your voyage will give you time to think. Go.'

  Jhered bowed but paused before leaving. 'Is there something else I should know? Is there trouble you're hiding from me?'

  'I run a huge Conquord. There is always trouble. But none of it is as close to my heart as that standing in front of me now. Go.'

  Jhered walked out of the palace and into the warm morning sunshine. He collected Harkov from his offices and the two men took horses and rode to the docks to oversee the preparation o
f their respective fleets. He was taking two ships, all he had available. Conditions for horses would be tight but not impossible. Many of the riders would have to sleep on deck as a consequence. Harkov's fleet was three ships and on the way to Port Roulent, his men at least would sleep more comfortably.

  There was the best part of a day before they sailed and Jhered was not going to waste it.

  'Captain Harkov, I know you're well connected with the messenger service,' he said.

  'Yes,' said Harkov cautiously.

  'While you're sending your messages to your wife and family about your next absence, I want you to ask a few questions. Who has come in and where are they bringing messages from. Talk to the individuals if you can. There's trouble somewhere and we need to know about it. I don't know what it is but I feel uncomfortable. The Conquord faces more than the crisis about to hit Westfallen and I want to know what it is.'

  'Sir, surely the Advocate would have told you of all people,' said Harkov.

  'Do you love the Conquord?' asked Jhered. ‘I would die for it,' said Harkov.

  'Then trust me as I trust you and do as I ask. The Advocate is not herself and we must help her despite her. There are times when citizens such as you and I must act at the boundaries of law to save those who rule us and the places we love. And my instinct tells me that now is one of those times.'

  Chapter 34

  848th cycle of God, 20th day of Solasrise 15th year of the true Ascendancy

  Felice Koroyan, Chancellor of the Order of Omniscience and beholden only to the Advocate on God's earth, stood in the prow of the Everlasting Truth. She could smell the evil of heresy on the wind.

  The galley rowed gracefully into the harbour of Port Roulent, sail furled against a buffeting offshore wind. A seven-day journey of prayers for strength and courage had passed on a sea blessed calm to hurry them to their work. From Port Roulent, it was four days by horse and carriage to Westfallen. Then the cleansing could begin and those who could be saved for God would be so. Those who could not would dance with the devils on the wind for eternity.

  The Order flag fluttered proudly from the mast. Its stylised 'O' was made up of clasping hands and surrounded a quartered tableau of sun, tree, horse and embracing lovers. Its gold on green colouring signified the Chancellor was on board. It would be seen through the magnifiers trained on every vessel that passed the harbour castle and moved to berth against the deep-water dockside. There would be honour that she had chosen to visit. If only it was with cause to celebrate.

  Horns announced her admission to the harbour. Flags marked the berths for her ships. Flurries of movement indicated hurried preparations for her landing. With her vessel closing on the harbour wall, Koroyan searched the fast-growing crowd for her representatives. She had sent two pigeons when a day from land. It would be a matter of some inconvenience if they had not found their targets.

  'Your Grace.'

  She turned to Horst Vennegoor, Prime Sword of the Omniscient,

  commander of all her forces. He had agreed to take personal charge of the security of the trial that would take place in Westfallen. He had at his disposal, one hundred of the Armour of God, 3 rd legion of the Omniscient. They were a skilled guard for what would be a difficult task. All the riders were able with bow, sword and spear. All were dedicated warriors of God, sworn to police the instruction of right and truth on His earth.

  'I didn't hear you approach, my Prime,' she said.

  Vennegoor inclined his head. He was a narrow-faced man, well into middle age. His sparse grey hair was oiled flat on his skull and his warm brown eyes gazed reverentially into hers. These were eyes that, when allied with his gentle tones, had persuaded many a criminal to give themselves away.

  'Silence is a weapon that should never be underestimated,' he said, smiling. 'But I would wear steel-shod boots if you desired it.'

  'I'm not sure which I would fear most were I your target; knowing you were coming or turning to find you there,' she said. 'You wanted me.'

  'Merely to point out our welcome party,' said Vennegoor.

  Koroyan chuckled. 'Then I lose my bet on the abilities of your birds. Good.' She looked out once again at the harbour side. 'Where are they?'

  'Coming down from the Principal House of Masks.'

  Vennegoor pointed to the House which stood apart from the rest of the thriving port, on a hill that overlooked the south bay where the fisher fleet was drawn up. She could see Order flags and pennants spread through a short column of riders with three carriages. Exactly as she had requested. She watched their progress while the Everlasting Truth nudged into berth. Her Prime Sword stood by her, hand ever on his weapon's hilt. Others of the Armour were in attendance, bows strung. It was inconceivable that she would face an attempt on her life in Caraduk but there was never any excuse for laxity.

  They flanked her down the gangplank and she walked, arms tucked in at the elbows and palms spread out to take the observance of the citizens. She smiled to the left and right, nodding her acknowledgement of prayers from workers blessed by her presence among them. Thirty yards ahead, Port Roulent's Principal Speaker waited at the head of her column. She had dismounted her horse, holding its reins while the stiffening breeze blew her robes about her legs. The crowd was standing a respectful distance from them and Koroyan could hear prayer chants being taken up. A glorious sound in a province of great piety. But one with a rotten core.

  'Blessed Chancellor, this is honour without measure,' said the Speaker, dropping to one knee, one hand to her forehead, one planted claw like on the ground in the symbol of root in earth. She was grown fat on the bounty God provided. Her round face was taut and sweating.

  'Come, stand up, Speaker Lotheris. It is too long since I've journeyed to this southern gem. The honour and pleasure are all my own.'

  She spoke for the crowd and felt the waves of gratitude roll from them. She took Lotheris's slick and hot root hand in her own and kissed her damp forehead, conferring her blessing.

  'I'm glad you received Vennegoor's pigeons,' she said quietly. 'It will make our unpleasant task that much more simple.'

  'Everything is in hand,' said Lotheris.

  'We'll speak in my carriage,' said Koroyan. She made quick estimate of the time of day. It was not long past noon and the heat was intense despite the breeze. She addressed the crowd. 'Spread the word. I will take service at the House of Masks at dusk. All are welcome to hear me and glory in God.'

  An excited babble of conversation broke out. Koroyan indicated Lotheris precede her into the carriage. As soon as the door closed behind her, the carriage turned, shouted demands clearing a path. Vennegoor would look after himself and the rest of the deputation of speakers and warriors. This most trusted of men would never let her down.

  'I have prepared rooms for you at my villa,' said Lotheris. 'Your people can camp or be billeted throughout the port, should you so desire.'

  'No,' said Koroyan. 'As soon as the service is over, I shall take a ceremonial meal with you and the deputation and we will then leave for Westfallen. Now, tell me before you ask the questions you must, what of my requests?'

  'I have positioned warriors on the roads to Westfallen, Cirandon and two other minor tracks. Those we suspect might carry word will be detained.'

  'Carrier pigeons?'

  'Everything is being done that can be. I have watchers at the lofts and falconers on the routes. At the least, we will see if birds are sent but we are applying pressure for messages to be held up for a day at least.'

  'Good. Do you have news of Arvan Vasselis?'

  'Our information is that he is in Cirandon, though his wife and child could still be in Westfallen. It is a favourite retreat of the family. I have no certain information, though.'

  'Interesting,' said Koroyan, seeing the possibilities. 'And that is where we shall leave him for now, at least. This situation must be handled in the correct order. Better he is absent for its beginning. Good.'

  'But there are problems, nonetheless,' sai
d Lotheris. 'The security on the road to Westfallen is tight. Word has been that it is a standing exercise against an animal plague but it has been in place for too long, I feel, for that reason to remain credible.'

  'I have one hundred of the Armour of God at my back, Speaker Lotheris. Wayposts will not prove a stumbling block.'

  'Chancellor, I must ask. All of this comes as a shock, though I have acted on every request in your messages. What has happened in Westfallen? And why is Marshal Vasselis involved?'

  Koroyan nodded. 'What is the name of the Reader of Westfallen?'

  'Elsa Gueran, my Chancellor.'

  'And have you ever seen her or heard her utter a word?' 'No,' said Lotheris. She frowned briefly.

  'And no doubt when you talk with the Principal Speaker of Cirandon, you find that he has similar problems, and indeed feels obstructed.'

  Lotheris nodded. 'That's true as I recall but—'

  'Then gather God close and listen to what I have to say. It is a lesson in why vigilance must never be allowed to slip. There is evil being perpetrated in this most beautiful of countries, and it is so close you can all but touch it.'

  By the time they reached the House of Masks, Lotheris's bloated face was dark and angry.

  It happened to them all one after another and the days had become long and bleak for the Ascendancy Echelon. So much at odds with the glorious sun shining down upon God's earth. The crops ripened, the fruit swelled on the trees and young animals strengthened and grew. Even the fish seemed to shoal in increasing numbers, waiting to swim into the nets as soon as they were cast.

  In every way it was a solastro season that God blessed. Westfallen basked in heat tempered by a sea breeze. The weather was set fair, of that Ardol Kessian was absolutely certain. Trading was brisk and profitable and crops had already been sold at good prices, well in advance of an excellent harvest. Public festivals and prayers around the House of Masks were fervent and covered in smiles and laughter.

  Yet in private, away from the prying eyes and cocked ears of visitors, traders and strangers, prayers were offered for the Ascendants. The whole town knew of their struggle and behind closed doors, the concerted will of the citizens was bent on beseeching God to grant mercy. Well-wishers kept up a steady stream to the door of the villa. Gifts and words were welcomed. None would ever be turned away. Sometimes, the solidarity was all that kept them going.