by Roger Taylor
Despite the grimness in her voice, the atmosphere between them had become very relaxed.
‘If I can’t ask you anything specific about it, then that leaves us with quite a problem, doesn’t it?’ Vredech said. ‘Namely, what is it that’s happened, and what can we do about it?’
Nertha smiled apologetically. ‘Just watch and listen, I suppose,’ she said. ‘Like you’ve already decided to do.’
They finished the rest of their journey in silence, neither feeling the need or the urge to speak.
* * * *
Vredech held his own service in the early evening. As if fired by Cassraw’s rhetoric, he laid passionate emphasis on those parts of the Santyth that counselled tolerance and compassion, that pointed to the similarities between all peoples rather than their differences, and that, above all, declared each individual to be responsible and accountable for his own deeds. He concluded with the faintly ominous quotation he had given the youth who accosted him at the gates to the Haven Meeting House, ‘“Follow no prophets, for I shall send ye none”,’ but this time he gave it a massive and threatening ring.
‘Splendid stuff,’ Nertha commented afterwards. ‘You sounded almost as if you were drawing up battle lines. What a pity there were so few present to hear it.’
‘My fault, that. I’ve not been at my best these past few weeks. I’ll start doing some repair work tomorrow. And yes, I think I was drawing up battle lines. I can’t preach personal responsibility and then ignore it when I see something happen that shouldn’t.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that no matter why he did it, Cassraw was wrong to preach as he did today and I must convince Mueran to make a stand or it’ll happen again. Like you, I’m far from happy about where such a thing might lead. There are a great many gullible people about who could be hurt as a consequence of such ranting.’
Then he and Nertha, in contrast to the companionable silence they had maintained on the latter part of their walk from the Haven Meeting House, talked long and enthusiastically into the early hours of the morning. They reminisced, gossiped, philosophized, argued, and generally brought one another up to date with their respective affairs. It was a good time.
That night Vredech neither dreamed nor entered the dreams of anyone else. Nor did he encounter the Whistler, though he was thinking of him as he slipped into sleep, softly whistling the three haunting notes to himself. He slept peacefully.
He did not wake thus, however. Normally, House roused him gently with a delicate tapping on his door, but today she roused the whole house by slamming the main door as she returned from market.
‘Are we on fire?’ Vredech asked, sitting bolt upright as, following a single powerful knock and awaiting no invitation, House strode into his bedroom. She hurled a copy of Privv’s Sheet on to the bed with the injunction, ‘Look at that!’ accompanied by, ‘And keep the ink off my sheets!’
Chapter 21
Privv’s Sheet landed with unusual force on more than Vredech’s bed that morning. Serjeant Skynner pored over a copy in his office at the Keeperage. Like Vredech he had attended Cassraw’s service anonymously to ensure that he had a true report, and, like Vredech, he had been deeply disturbed by what he had heard.
Cassraw’s actual sermon however, was an almost trifling affair compared with the version that appeared in Privv’s Sheet. Here was written a call for Canol Madreth to make a stand against the moral and spiritual decay that was to be found throughout Gyronlandt; to begin the battle that would lead to a united Gyronlandt. The report was riddled with martial imagery – the word ‘crusade’ kept recurring, and there was Canol Madreth ‘besieged’, the Church ‘taking arms against’, and so on. Skynner shook his head in disbelief. How many drunken brawls had he seen broken up with the participants singing patriotic songs and bellowing for a united Gyronlandt? The whole notion invariably implied ‘dealing with’ those countries who were perceived as being the cause of the disunity, and great passions about it were easily roused even though there was no corresponding unity of opinion as to which countries these were. There were also some fairly direct references in the Sheet to the Heindral’s hesitancy in dealing with the problem of compensation from the government of Tirfelden for the murdered merchant. Skynner did not even want to think about the prospect of the two ideas being thus linked.
Further, a subtle menace pervaded the text. Not to be With, was to be Against. People should publicly demonstrate – prove – the renewal of their fidelity to the church and its doctrines. It was understated, but it was there beyond a doubt.
It occurred to Skynner, not for the first time, that some restraint should be put on what was presented in the Sheets. Privv’s writing was a travesty of the truth which, for mercy’s sake, was serious enough in itself and well worthy of accurate reporting. Either Privv was appallingly incompetent or he was being wilfully malicious – though to what end, Skynner could not imagine. In any event, neither incompetence nor malice were acceptable in someone whose vocation was supposed to be that of informing the public of important affairs. It did not help Skynner’s peace of mind that it was a brilliant piece of writing, as brilliant as Cassraw’s sermon had been.
Still, he was only a Serjeant Keeper and while it suited the Heinders of all parties to allow these people free rein, what could he do about it? It was unlikely that any steps would be taken to curb them until one of the Sheeters turned rabidly on the Heindral itself – and he doubted even Privv was that reckless.
One thing he could do however, was to make sure that his captain at least – when he condescended to turn up – knew the difference between what Cassraw had actually said and Privv’s unbridled imaginings. The more people in authority who were aware of the truth, the better.
Skynner left his office and strode towards the Keepers’ room where the men were preparing to leave on their daily patrols. There was an almost excited atmosphere in the room as he entered, and he frowned as he saw that several of those present were engrossed in Privv’s Sheet.
‘Good stuff, Serjeant,’ Albor said, waving a copy at him. ‘Personally I’d fine anyone who didn’t go to the service, like in the old days. There’s too many people out there need the fear of Ishryth putting into them.’
There was a general murmur of agreement.
‘You were there,’ Skynner said coldly. ‘I expect my men to be reliable witnesses, to be able to tell the difference between what they’ve seen and heard with their own eyes and ears, and the kind of gross misrepresentation that’s being peddled here.’ Angrily, he brushed aside a copy of Privv’s Sheet that was lying on his chair. ‘And if you do your jobs anything like properly, you’ll put the fear of the Law into those who need it before we have to drag Ishryth into things.’ He looked at his men grimly, defying any of them to disagree with him. ‘As for a united Gyronlandt,’ he sneered as he sat down and motioned his men to do the same. ‘Whenever someone starts saying that, it’s my experience that we can look forward to having the cells full of broken heads, black eyes and vomiting drunks.’ He became avuncular. ‘And, when all’s said and done, what Brother Cassraw preached is, fortunately, the church’s affair, not ours, and doubtless they’ll be dealing with it in their own way, as we will continue to deal with our problems our way.’
The enthusiasm of the men for the Sheet appeared to have vanished for some reason, and no one seemed inclined to argue with their Serjeant’s pronouncements.
Skynner turned to Albor. ‘Now, anything unusual happen during the night?’ Albor handed him the notes that had been left behind by the Serjeant on night duty. Skynner frowned as he read through them. There was the usual list of minor crimes and disturbances, then a report about two Sheeters who had been attacked and robbed during the night. Both had been injured and both had had their printing equipment damaged, resulting in their being unable to prepare their own Sheets for several days to come. Skynner pondered their names. By coincidence they were Privv’s main rivals.
* * * *
; Dowinne looked up at her husband and smiled greedily. It was a reflection of Cassraw’s own expression as he read Privv’s Sheet.
‘He’s done well,’ she said.
‘Indeed he has,’ Cassraw replied. ‘And I’ll make a point of telling him so. It’s going to take some little effort yet to make him truly one of us, but he’s going to be invaluable, I can feel it.’ He looked upwards, his face ecstatic. ‘His name be praised,’ he said. ‘It’s as He said it would be. So much is turning my way so quickly, it’s scarcely believable.’
Dowinne walked over to him and, standing behind him, draped her arms around his neck. ‘Believe it, husband,’ she said. ‘A destiny is unfolding here – a destiny I’ve felt in you, right from the very beginning. As I sat by helpless that night while you lay silent in the Witness House, I could feel great forces gathering. Forces that would work through you to shape this entire land and beyond.’ She tightened her grip. ‘Seize your destiny,’ she hissed. ‘Seize it without fear. Always remember that you’re His Chosen One – allow yourself no hesitations, no doubts. He helps those who help themselves, and never more so than now.’
Cassraw closed his eyes and nodded fervently. Of the many changes that had recently come about, not the least had been in his wife. She had become so strong, such a bulwark. He realized that he had never had a true measure of her worth until these past few weeks. She was a fitting mate for him indeed. Dowinne remained standing behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders.
‘When I’ve spoken to Privv, I must go to the Witness House and see Mueran,’ he said. Then he took Dowinne’s hand and led her round to sit beside him. Leaning forward, he spoke to her almost in a whisper. ‘I must explain to him what I really said and how it was misrepresented by this scurrilous Sheeter. Begin the process of bringing him to the cause.’
Dowinne smiled knowingly. ‘Mueran’s an echoing vessel,’ she said. ‘He’ll boom out whatever message is put into him. All he needs to be sure of is that he’ll look well and that he’ll not actually have to decide anything.’
Cassraw chuckled and patted her hand. He made as if to stand up, then hesitated.
Dowinne’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Something’s troubling you, isn’t it?’ she said.
Cassraw frowned. ‘Vredech was there yesterday.’
‘In the congregation? I didn’t see him.’
Her husband’s scowl deepened. ‘He was there, though – under one of the hoods, I’m sure. I could feel him.’
Dowinne shrugged. ‘Strange behaviour for a friend,’ she said dismissively. ‘But does it really matter?’
‘Vredech will oppose me,’ Cassraw said flatly. ‘I’m sure of it. I’ve felt it ever since I came down the mountain. His hand will be against me.’ Then his face became pained. ‘I don’t want to have to fight him, Dowinne. We’ve been friends all our lives.’
A coldness came into Dowinne’s eyes momentarily but Cassraw did not see it. ‘I don’t think it’ll be so, Enryc,’ she said consolingly. ‘Why should he oppose you? Besides, your tongue will show him the rightness of what you’re doing.
Cassraw looked doubtful. ‘He’s nakedly innocent, and very strong when he feels he needs to be.’
Dowinne’s hand twisted in his and tightened about it. ‘Whatever part he’s been given to play, he’ll play,’ she said. ‘But he hasn’t a fraction of your strength, nor a fraction of your gifts. He is not the Chosen One. You’ll bring him to your side, I’m sure.’
‘And if I can’t?’ Cassraw asked.
Dowinne released his hand and smiled sympathetically. ‘Such compassion,’ she said. ‘Such concern and loyalty. It wasn’t for any small reason that you were chosen. But with that choosing goes responsibilities. The way ahead has been laid for you, all you have to do is follow it. You’ll always do what is right, what is necessary, and it will always be for the best, no matter how difficult or distressing it might seem at the time. The power is coming to you. I feel it.’
A glass some way from Cassraw tumbled over. Its contents rushed across the simple white cloth and trickled noisily on to the floor. Cassraw started slightly and looked at his hand, puzzled. Before he could say anything, however, Dowinne, her eyes strangely bright, reached out and picked up the glass.
‘Many things are coming to you,’ she said, as if there had been no interruption.
Cassraw’s doubts flared briefly, then were gone. ‘Of course,’ he said, standing up. ‘Allyn will take some persuading, but he’ll be with us in the end.’
Dowinne watched him from the window as he mounted his horse and turned it towards the gates of the Meeting House. As he disappeared from sight, she looked at the glass in her hand. She pressed it, cold, against her cheek and smiled.
‘All will be with us in the end, husband,’ she said to herself softly. ‘Or crushed utterly.’
* * * *
Toom Drommel looked at the Sheet in amazement. That crazy preacher had done it after all, he thought. Though it had only been a few days previously, he had almost forgotten his interview with Cassraw. In fact, it had so disconcerted him that he had deliberately put it from his mind. And despite having read the Sheet very carefully several times he could still scarcely believe it.
Thank Ishryth the man hadn’t mentioned his or the Party’s name. Drommel was sorely tempted to read the Sheet yet again just to make sure, but restrained himself.
He had little doubt that Privv’s representation of the sermon was inaccurate and exaggerated, but it was the version that would be accepted as the truth no matter how many actual witnesses appeared to deny it.
Gradually his thoughts ordered themselves. The whole business might after all prove quite entertaining. Cassraw had seen fit to bring the Church into politics and it would be interesting to see what the church did to him for his pains. And indeed, the affair might even prove useful. Drommel smiled tightly to himself. Later that day he would be able to raise the matter in the PlasHein and, while cautiously deprecating this intrusion into secular matters by a senior member of the church, he should nonetheless be able to use it to apply further pressure on the Castellans. They were in an almighty stew, he knew, and it was only a matter of time before they retreated from their stated intention of expelling Felden nationals and confiscating Felden assets. Such a conspicuous flight from so strong a declaration, dealing particularly, as it did, with the protection of Madren citizens abroad, would cost them dearly at the next Acclamation and would almost certainly result in his party holding the balance of power.
The future was looking very good. Drommel instinctively straightened up, and laid his hand upon the Sheet as though it were some important document of state as he began to see a portrait of himself ranged with those of all the other great statesmen that lined the entrance hall to the main debating chamber of the PlasHein.
* * * *
Privv chewed on his thumb as he took up his favourite position, with his feet on his desk and the views of the Ervrin Mallos and the PlasHein within a turn of his head. Not that any profound considerations of his place in the social order were troubling him today. He was simply tired. It had been a long night.
But he had been making money. A great deal of money.
Leck was sprawled out on the windowsill, apparently asleep. Idly he touched the cat’s mind. His own filled suddenly with unnerving images of darkness permeated with moving, watching shadows and he withdrew quickly. Something about the cat’s sleeping mind unsettled him. He could never escape the feeling that, in some mysterious way, he might be drawn into them; taken somewhere from where he could never escape. He shivered and chewed earnestly at his thumb.
The mood passed eventually. It would take more than a brush with Leck’s thoughts to mar today. Part of Privv wanted to sag into his chair and just sleep, but he was too exhilarated. His latest Sheet had been a scintillating piece of writing, full of bounding rhetoric and colourful imagery, and every one of the Sheets that he had printed had been sold. Further, following Cassraw’s guarded advice he h
ad printed far more than usual. The public appetite for his work was surprising even him.
He leaned back and stared at the ceiling and once again mentally counted his takings for the night’s endeavour. If things carried on like this he was going to have to use even more boys to sell the Sheets further around the town, perhaps even beyond. Already far from poor as a result of his Sheeting, he could see a future ahead that seemed to hold no limit to the wealth he could accumulate. It was good. And well deserved for the service he did the community.
Something intruded into his reverie, making him glance around. He frowned as he strained to catch a noise that was hovering at the edge of his hearing. Someone, somewhere was whistling. Or was it some street musician playing a pipe? They didn’t usually play in this area.
Before he could ponder the matter further, he was abruptly overwhelmed by Leck’s consciousness, full of urgent reflexes.
‘Out, cat!’
An angry voice filled his head and he was leaping desperately, on all fours, to avoid a swinging foot. The image was gone as suddenly as it had materialized, but he was aware of Leck screaming abusively and tumbling off the windowsill, while he himself was falling off his chair. Still partly linked to the cat, he twisted round and landed on his hands and knees safely, if painfully. The chair fell over on top of him.
‘Damn you, cat!’ he roared.
Leck spat at him viciously. ‘It’s not my fault,’ she hissed. ‘He just didn’t like cats, that’s all.’
‘Who didn’t?’
‘Him.’ Her voice faded awkwardly. ‘Him… in… my mind. Sorry.’
Privv was disentangling himself from the chair. ‘Well, think about someone a bit less violent in future if you don’t mind,’ he grumbled, only partially mollified by Leck’s apology.