In all that time since the War of the Eye, Sandra Arminger had played the part of a loyal daughter of the Faith with smooth skill and used the Church in the PPA lands as an instrument of her rule whenever she could. The arrangement wasn’t completely one-sided; it had kept up and consolidated in less violent form the momentum of conversion that had started with Norman Arminger’s motto of kiss the cross or kiss the sword. The dangers were still all too apparent.
They were both morally certain that she had had Leo assassinated, as well, during her housecleaning after Norman Arminger’s death. The timing of his mysterious collapse had simply been too convenient. That knowledge went silently between them in a glance, and Ignatius murmured: “When a man causes you a problem—”
“—remember, no man, no problem,” Dmwoski finished for him.
“Fortunately, our new High Queen will be quite a different type of ruler. And she is now very close indeed to her delayed majority. Early next year, in fact. That will make her Lady Protector of the Association as well as High Queen of Montival.”
“Yes,” Dmwoski said. “And she really is a loyal daughter of Holy Mother Church.”
“Which does not mean she will necessarily defer to a cleric’s political opinions, of course,” Ignatius said. “I know her, and believe me, that is the case.”
“Nor should she. However, she will not necessarily defer to her mother’s opinions, either, close as they are. Yet the Association’s apparatus is one designed by and loyal to her mother; even when Norman Arminger was Lord Protector she managed the detail work. It is a tool shaped and fitted to her hand. You do quite right to build anew, my son, even in these desperate circumstances. Institutional inertia is a very powerful force—which, as Catholic clerics and heirs to two thousand years of it, is something we should know down in our bones.”
Ignatius nodded. “I am improvising, and pulling in whatever personnel I can from wherever I can get them, but there is method in my madness. It keeps things fluid. And every power in our new Montival is of course fully occupied with mobilization for the campaign to come, down to the littlest autonomous village. If it were not for the fact that all the other powers were jealous of the Association—”
“And each other,” Dmwoski added.
“—and each other, and hence anxious to have their people involved, I could never have pried loose a single clerk.”
“And I am whatever you can get as well, my son?”
Ignatius flushed slightly, despite the detached amusement in the Abbot-Bishop’s voice.
“I am attending to political tasks His Majesty understandably cannot do in his own person yet recognizes are utterly essential. He must have the support of the realm, and what is that if not a political matter? And for that, I need your help.”
Dmwoski nodded slowly. “Which speaks well of him,” the older cleric said. “I knew he was a very able field commander, but a King requires far more than that. More than a charismatic presence, as well. He must be able to govern, or he is a disaster in the making. Especially in a new kingdom without a cushion of institutions and traditions.”
Ignatius spread his hands. “Even before the Sword, his grasp of detail was phenomenal. Since then . . . miraculous. And I mean that in a fairly literal manner, Reverend Father. Yet he can still only be in one place at a time.”
“I presume from the files you sent me that your request has something to do with the problem of the false Church Universal and Triumphant’s infiltrations here.”
Ignatius nodded. “Precisely. Most particularly, the matter of House Liu. This is not simply a political matter, either. Their mother’s machinations may have begun that way, as a plan to make their brother Odard Lord Protector, but her contacts with the Church Universal and Triumphant quickly became more than that . . . spiritual elements seem to have been involved.”
“Infernal elements, and there is no spoon long enough to sup safely in that company. She went from ally to unwitting tool to possessed rather quickly,” Dmwoski said grimly. “I understand that you had direct experience with agents of the CUT.”
Ignatius crossed himself and shivered slightly. “And only by the very great mercy of God and the Virgin was I able to cope with them.”
“You are fortunate, my son. The Queen of Angels has taken a very personal interest in you, and you are hence protected against this . . . filth. For those less armored in Faith it is a contagious foul leprosy of the soul.”
Ignatius blinked at the choice of words. Dmwoski was usually a very temperate man. Then he recalled looking into eyes that were windows into nothing, whose very existence was a wound in the fabric of the world and an invitation to the mortal sin of despair . . .
He shook his head, refusing to be daunted. “The matter of the Liu family is very delicate. Baron Gervais, Odard Liu, was one of our companions on the Quest. By the end of it, at least, he was a true comrade; and he saved us all several times.”
“This bureaucratic morass must seem infuriating beyond bearing by contrast!” Dmwoski said.
“Am I so obvious?” Ignatius said. “It is valuable work. And the Quest was . . . often a nightmare. Hunger, thirst, heat, cold, battle and perils, constant fear for my companions, constant worry for those back here at home facing the enemy.”
“A single, comprehensible aim to which you could devote heart and soul; the company of honorable friends who became as dear to you as brothers and sisters; each day a new vista and a new challenge; the inexpressible glory of a direct vision of the Virgin calling you to be her chosen knight . . .”
Ignatius laughed. “I am so obvious, then! Yes, this is almost squalid by contrast. Absolutely essential, though. And I must not let my life be one long declension from a moment of glory. I must make that a beginning and this work also an offering to Him, the Cross I am called to carry up to Heaven’s gate.”
Dmwoski nodded. “I do not blame you in the least if you find that difficult. Let difficulty be a spur to effort. And even in your very bare-bones reports, my son, it is obvious that everyone on that quest—with the exception of Baron Odard’s traitorous servant Alex—saved each other many times. I was a soldier before I became a monk or a priest; and then after the Change, soldier and monk and priest as well, as you are now. I know the strength of those bonds. The exhilaration of shared danger is not necessarily sinful, so long as it does not become an addiction.”
“Even Alex Vinton saved the Princess . . . the High Queen . . . at least once, though without intending anything but treachery.”
“So does God turn even evil to the service of good,” Dmwoski agreed.
“And I am doing essential work here. Yet it will be a relief beyond expressing if you can lift some of that burden from me. And frankly, the tale of the Quest to Nantucket and the Sword of the Lady is also an important element in rallying support to the new kingdom.”
“What is a kingdom, if not a tale that many agree is true? Or a nation, if not a collection of shared stories? To lead is to tell stories through action. To embody them and give them substance. We shape them; and then they shape us.”
Ignatius nodded. “So if we emphasize the, ummm, cleanness and loyalty of the younger generation of House Liu, it will be useful politically. It will also show that the High King is not biased against the Association’s nobility either. They are half at least of Montival’s military power and must be, ummmm, kept sweet.”
“I should be glad to help, my son.”
Ignatius sighed slightly. I expected that, but it is so good to hear it! And the Abbot has always had a gift for dealing with the young.
“I knew a little of these matters as they occurred,” Dmwoski said. “And I have studied the papers you forwarded. The Lady Regent Sandra was always a little obsessive about complete files on every conceivable matter!”
“For which, thank God,” Ignatius said sincerely, and crossed himself again. “This matter is personally important to the High King and Her Majesty as well—they have sworn to protect Baron Odard’s y
ounger brother and sister. Her Majesty promised it to him as he lay dying. But it is also important that they gain an overview of how it relates to the larger problem. We must defeat the CUT in battle, but in the longer run its remnants will be a severe problem, perhaps even a mortal threat . . . ah, the children have arrived.”
Though they were not really children anymore. Yseult was a striking yellow-haired maiden of seventeen with delicate umber-tinted features very slightly marred by four small deep pinhead-sized scars on the left side of her face, one at the corner of her eye. She wore a plain gray robe and white wimple, the habit of a lay oblate of the Sisters of Compassion. Her long, slanted blue eyes were slightly haunted, and she was limping a little from an injury about which the records told a remarkable story. Huon was younger and darker, fifteen and obviously shooting up, in a page’s outfit with the arms of the Barons of Mollala on its chest, the Lion-and-Assegai quartered with the mon symbol of House Liu. Both of them looked more than a little apprehensive as their made their curtsy and leg-forward bow respectively, and then turned to kiss the bishop’s ring. Their past year had been traumatic, to say the least.
“You are not in trouble, my children,” Ignatius said warmly. “Quite the contrary. I was with your brother Odard for over a year, all the way from Odell to the Sunrise Ocean. The second Baron of Gervais was a very brave man, a loyal comrade and a true knight whose name will live forever when honor’s praise is sung, one whom the High King has several times said to me he sorely misses at his right hand. I heard his last confession and administered the Sacraments to him. He died in great hope, and I think that hope was justified. His last request to the Princess . . . High Queen . . . was that she take you under her protection, and that she swore to do.”
The youngsters relaxed a little, though both were still a little wary under impeccable manners.
Their lives have been much disrupted, Ignatius thought. Their brother gone, their mother a traitor . . . to God as well as the Realm . . . and unpleasantly dead, themselves under virtual house arrest, and then the direct attack of the CUT’s powers. Also the result of their mother’s folly, ably abetted by her brother.
“Young lord Huon, I am directed by Their Majesties to assure you that you are confirmed as heir to the Barony and lands of Gervais upon reaching your majority, and that there is no question of attainture for the actions of your mother and uncle. You will understand that the Lady Regent felt this matter had to be reserved for Their Majesties’ final judgment.”
“Yes, my lord Chancellor.”
“Furthermore, your education has been severely disrupted by . . . the unfortunate events. Her Majesty is now forming her own household—a riding household, primarily, a fighting menie, for the duration of the war. You have completed your time as a page and Lord Chaka gives you excellent recommendations. It would therefore please Her Majesty to take your oath as squire.”
Ignatius folded his hands on the desk and went on gravely: “I can testify from personal experience that Her Majesty is a knight of no mean skill with her own hands, and she will often be in the forefront at the High King’s side, or on independent commands of her own. As her squire you would share her perils and her achievements. This is a post of both honor and danger, in which you will be given the opportunity to show what is in you. Do you accept?”
Huon flushed crimson, stammered, nodded wordlessly and then nodded quickly again. It was also a public affirmation of his family’s loyalty and a promise of great preferment, if he showed well; a plum position at which any young nobleman would jump.
After a moment he spoke: “Yes, my lord Chancellor, that is, if Lord Chaka agrees. Lord Chaka has been very kind to me when it was, ummm, politically and physically dangerous to be anywhere near me, and I would not desert him.”
“He has given his consent, and”—Ignatius looked down at a letter—“says you show promise and that he wishes he could have been a better master for you as a page, for your brother’s sake and your own. Do sit, young man.”
Huon sat, nearly collapsing into the chair and looking rather stunned. Ignatius turned his attention to the boy’s sister, standing with her hands modestly clasped before her and obviously happy for Huon.
“My child, I understand that you have a special devotion for St. Bernadette of Lourdes. I take it you do not feel a vocation for the life of a religious, though?”
“No, Father . . . my lord Chancellor. That is, I’ve wondered, and prayed, but . . . I want to be married and have children and a home of my own someday. Though I’ve been glad to be useful with the Sisters.”
“It is good that you know your mind and heart,” Ignatius said robustly. “We are not all called to make the same sacrifices and a vocation must be firm and unambiguous; if there is doubt, the answer is no. According to your superiors you have worked well and uncomplainingly with the wounded. Her Majesty instructs me to tell you that when matters are more settled—”
When we know we’re going to survive the next year as something besides guerillas in the hills, went unspoken among them.
“—she will take you into her own household as lady-in-waiting. Furthermore, she will settle lands on you from the Crown demesne, several manors, to be held by you in your own right for life as a tenant-in-chief of the Crown, and to descend to the heirs of your body. As to the matter of your marriage, that will be taken under consideration in due course in consultation with you and your brother. There’s no hurry; Her Majesty does not approve of early marriages. And in memory of your elder brother, Their Majesties will stand godparents to your children and your brother’s, when they come, which God grant.”
It was Yseult’s turn to flush and look dazed; she’d been turned from a dubious prospect to a prize catch in one stroke, and given a promise she could take her pick of the suitors she’d eventually have rather than be played as a card in the game of politics. In fact, with manors of her own she could take a landless man if she preferred him. Godparenthood was also something their generation took very seriously indeed; it was called compadrazgo in the Association territories, and established lifelong bonds almost as strong as kinship by blood. To have the right to call the High Queen comadre was a cadeau of incredible value.
Ignatius chuckled slightly. “Don’t look quite so stunned, my children. I didn’t speak lightly when I said how highly Their Majesties held your brother in their esteem. He is sorely missed in this time of war and trial. He would have been trusted with the most vital missions and highest offices if he had lived.”
Then gravely: “Take him as your example in loyalty and service, and you will find the High King and Queen very faithful friends and good lords, and House Liu will rest secure in their favor.”
“I . . . we will, my lord Chancellor,” Huon said fervently.
“And your service can begin now. Abbot-Bishop Dmwoski has kindly agreed to take charge of preparing a full report on the attacks by the CUT on your family. On the Quest we suffered from the attentions of the diabolists, but you fought the same fight here.”
Which is a tactful way to put it. But for the best. We need to draw a line beneath the machinations of their mother and uncles.
“Lord Huon, you’ll need a few days to outfit yourself before you join Her Majesty, probably in Goldendale. Here is a letter of credit for arms, horses and field gear, and a note giving you precedence. I would appreciate it if you and your sister would cooperate with the good Abbot while you’re preparing.”
“We will stop at the inn where I am staying, for a little while,” Dmwoski said, as they made their way out onto Park and turned onto the thronged sidewalks of Broadway.
Shattuck Hall was near the southern part of modern Portland, where the city wall curved in towards the Willamette along the eastern edge of the old Interstate 405. The shadow of the great works of the Barbur Gate reached almost as far as the street where they stood, and you could see the towers of the outworks on the other side of the highway, tall on the hills that guarded the approaches. Edged metal blinked t
here as sentries paced the ramparts, and a blimp-shaped observation balloon floated in the sky above at the end of the long graceful curve of its tethering cable.
“I will return you to good Sister Cecilia at the War Ministry, and she can escort you back to Bethany Refuge when we are done for today, Lady Yseult. Or your brother could escort you, if you feel the need for some private conversation.”
Huon Liu nodded. He seems OK, he thought.
The Order of the Shield of St. Benedict had a reputation for severity in the Association territories, but its founder scarcely seemed the ogre that legend made him. If you subtracted the black robe and the sword belt, he seemed like everyone’s favorite uncle, in fact, or a good-natured but shrewd teacher. Huon exchanged a quick glance with his sister, and they shared a wary nod.
We’ve always been close, Huon thought. After the last couple of years, we’re each about all the other has left, though.
“I am not simply going to ask you questions, my children. I am going to tell you things as well. Nothing will be withheld. You have a right to know the whole story of what has happened to your family, and how it bears on the kingdom and yourselves. I have the time for this, you understand, while Friar Ignatius . . .”
They both nodded; the Lord Chancellor had been opening a new file even as they left, gnawing absently on a heel of bread as he did.
The office building that he’d picked was a little out of the way and had been vacant since the Change, a low nondescript brick structure convenient because of its location, its position on the preventative maintenance list, and the fact that the pipes could be turned back on for city water. Huon was glad to be out of the slightly musty scent of a building unoccupied for twenty-five years. Most of the time his generation was thoroughly indifferent to the world before the Change, but settings like that could give you a slight subliminal knowledge that the present was built on the bones of six billion dead.
The Tears of the Sun Page 3