by David Weber
"Believe me, Your Majesty, I'm well aware of that," Wylsynn said. "I've given this matter a great deal of thought since receiving the Archbishop's message. I'm entirely comfortable in my own mind with my original ruling on everything which has been submitted to my office. While I certainly owe the Archbishop my zealous obedience, I truly see no point in repeating the examination and testing process, as I feel confident my conclusions would be the same at the end of the effort. At the present time, however, I'm inclined to doubt that any remonstrance to the Archbishop on my part would . . . be of service to your kingdom's interests."
Merlin's eyes narrowed, and he sensed the stiffening of Cayleb's shoulders. Young Father Paityr was widely regarded as disdainfully oblivious to the political realities of the Church of God Awaiting's internal factions and how secular rulers tried to use them to advantage. Which made his last sentence even more interesting than it might otherwise have been.
"While I may feel the Archbishop's concerns, assuming they are in fact his concerns and not those of the Council of Vicars, are misplaced," Wylsynn continued, "I'm bound by both my formal vows and my duty as one of God's priests to fulfill his instructions to the very best of my ability. After much thought, I've concluded that the true nature of the concerns being expressed has less to do with the actual processes and devices I've already approved in Mother Church's name, than with the future to which they may lead."
Which, Merlin thought more than a little apprehensively, shows even more "political" insight on his part. And cuts right to the chase in one simple sentence.
"The Writ does warn us that change begets change, and that Shan-wei's temptations find their way into our hearts one step at a time," Wylsynn said gravely. "In that respect, I understand the Archbishop's legitimate concerns. And, to be totally honest, I find I share them, in some small degree. Your people here in Charis are a . . . boisterous lot, Your Majesty. I've come to like and admire them, but it may be that those within Mother Church who feel some apprehension about their taste for constantly improving how they do things have some justification for their worries.
"Because of that, and as a means of addressing what I believe was the Archbishop's intent, I've decided, after much prayer and meditation, how I believe I ought to proceed. I propose to cut directly to the heart of the Archbishop's concerns."
"In what way, Father?" Haarahld asked just a bit warily.
"In this way, Your Majesty," Wylsynn replied, and reached for his pectoral scepter of Langhorne. It was larger than most, and exquisitely gemmed, exactly the sort of scepter which might have been expected from someone of Wylsynn's familial wealth and prominence. But no one else in the throne room expected what happened when Wylsynn took it in both hands and twisted.
The scepter's crowned head came off, exposing the fact that the end of its staff projected into a gold-lined hollow inside the head.
Wylsynn released the head, letting it hang from the golden chain about his neck, and touched the staff's projecting end with the tip of his right index finger. And as he touched it, it began to glow.
Haarahld, Bishop Maikel, Cayleb, and the king's bodyguards all stared transfixed at that steadily strengthening blue glow. So did Merlin, but for completely different reasons.
"This," Wylsynn said softly, "is a treasure of Mother Church which was entrusted to my family centuries ago. According to the traditions which have been passed down with it, it was placed with us by the Archangel Schueler himself."
He touched his heart and then his lips, and everyone else in the throne room, including Merlin, did the same.
"The nature of the Stone of Schueler," Wylsynn continued, "is that if any lie is spoken by someone while touching it, the Stone will turn the color of blood. With your permission, Your Majesty, I propose to ask each of you in turn a few simple questions. The Stone will confirm for me the truth of your responses, and that, coupled with the examinations I've already carried out, will allow me to respond to the Archbishop's concerns in good faith."
He met Haarahld's gaze directly, his expression and manner radiating sincerity, and placed his own hand on the glowing blue crystal.
"No one outside a few members of my own family knows where the Stone has been bestowed in this generation," he said. "In fact, most in the Church believe it was lost forever at the time of Saint Evyrahard's death. I do not lightly reveal it to you at this time, but I have . . . concerns of my own about the nature of the allegations being made against Charis from within the Temple."
It was obvious to Merlin that it was almost physically painful for the young upper-priest to admit that, but the crystal burned steadily blue, and Wylsynn continued unflinchingly.
"I believe God sent the Stone to me for this very moment, Your Majesty. I believe He intends me to answer my own concerns so that I may know how best to answer those of others."
He stopped speaking, and Merlin held his mental breath as Haarahld VII of Charis looked deep into the young upper-priest's eyes.
Unlike Haarahld, Merlin knew exactly what had been hidden inside Wylsynn's reliquary, not that he'd ever expected to see it.
It was a verifier—the ultimate development of the old, clumsy pre-space lie detector. Unlike earlier attempts to produce a reliable means of determining truthfulness, the verifier used the brain waves of the individual being questioned. Under the law of the Terran Federation, verifiers could not be used without an explicit court order, and even then, there'd been stringent safeguards, limitations on the questions which could be asked, to prevent fishing expeditions or witch-hunts.
Even the verifier hadn't been a perfect guardian of truth. In almost a century of use, no instance of a verifier's inaccurately reporting a knowing lie as the truth had ever been reported, but it could only tell an interrogator whether or not the person he was questioning was telling the truth as he knew it. It didn't magically uncover truths no one knew . . . and certain mental disorders could return contradictory readings.
The one in Wylsynn's hand might well really have come from Schueler. At any rate, it had to have come from one of Langhorne's command crew, and it had clearly been intended to continue functioning indefinitely. The crystal itself was basically a solid chunk of molecular circuitry, which could have been pounded on with a sledgehammer without suffering undue damage, but there had to be some provision for powering the thing. Merlin couldn't be certain, but it seemed likely that the same "angel" who'd given the "relic" to Wylsynn's family had instructed them in the ritual required to keep it charged, probably via a simple solar power converter built into the thing.
None of which really mattered at this particular moment. What mattered was that the local representative of the Inquisition in Charis had it.
"I'm honored by your willingness to reveal this relic's existence, Father. And by both your trust in our discretion and your determination to judge these matters justly," Haarahld said finally. "For myself, I fear no just question." He didn't even look at the others.
"We will answer what you ask," he said.
* * *
Merlin stood very still behind Cayleb's chair as Wylsynn approached the king. The upper-priest extended the verifier, and Haarahld touched it firmly, without hesitating, despite its unearthly glow. He looked across the blue light which turned his fingers almost translucent and met Wylsynn's eyes levelly.
"I'll keep my questions as brief as I may, Your Majesty," the upper-priest promised.
"Ask, Father," Haarahld replied steadily.
"Very well, Your Majesty." Wylsynn cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, of your knowledge, do any of the new processes, devices, or concepts which have been or will be introduced here in Charis violate the Proscriptions of Jwo-jeng?"
"They do not," Haarahld said in formal, measured tones, and the verifier glowed steady blue.
"Do you know of any individual here in Charis who would oppose God's will for Safehold?" Wylsynn asked, and Merlin held his mental breath.
"I know of no one here in Charis who would act in oppo
sition to the will of God," Haarahld said. "I don't doubt there are some, for there are always those who prefer evil to good, but if they exist, I do not know who they may be, or where."
Again, the verifier continued to glow.
"Do you, as an individual and a monarch, accept God's plan for Safehold's salvation?" Wylsynn asked, and this time Haarahld's face tightened, as if with a flicker of anger. But he replied in that same measured tone.
"I accept God's plan for this world, for my Kingdom, and for myself," he said, and the verifier burned clear blue.
"Do you intend ill to any who do not intend ill to you?" Wylsynn asked very quietly, and Haarahld cocked his head slightly.
"Forgive me, Father," he said across the blue glow of the verifier, "but that question would seem to me to go just a bit far afield."
Wylsynn began to open his mouth, but the king shook his head before he could.
"Nonetheless," Haarahld continued, "I'll answer it. You've extended your trust to me, and so I'll extend mine to you. In answer to your question, I intend ill to no man who does not intend ill to me or the subjects for whose lives and safety I am responsible."
The verifier continued to glow, and Wylsynn bowed profoundly to the king and stepped back.
"I thank you, Your Majesty," he said, and looked at Cayleb.
"Your Highness?" he said, and Cayleb stretched out his hand as fearlessly as his father had.
"You heard the King's answers to my questions, Your Highness," Wylsynn said. "May I ask if you are in accord with his responses?"
"I am."
"Do you share your father's beliefs on these matters?"
"I do."
"Thank you, Your Highness," Wylsynn said as the verifier continued to glow brightly. Then he looked at Merlin.
"In addition to his concern about allegations of violations of the Proscriptions, the Archbishop informed me there have been reports of malign influences in the King's councils. He named no specific names, but I would imagine any such rumors probably focus on you, Lieutenant Athrawes. You are, after all, a stranger, and there are persistent rumors that you're also a seijin. The Archbishop didn't specifically instruct me to investigate those rumors, but it would be of great value to me—and a relief to my own mind—if you would permit me to do so."
Merlin looked back at him for several seconds, sensing the tension which suddenly ratcheted higher in Cayleb. Then he smiled crookedly and bowed to the upper-priest.
"I never anticipated anything quite like this, Father," he said with perfect honesty. "But if I can be of service, of course you have my permission."
He reached out his own hand, and settled it over the verifier. As he did, a small green icon glowed in the corner of his vision, and he drew a deep mental breath at the confirmation that the verifier was fully functional. Its circuitry and programming had detected the fact that he was a PICA operating in autonomous mode. It had no way to realize he was operating under hacked software, nor would it have had any way to report that fact to Wylsynn. But it had been designed to interface with a PICA's molycirc brain, as well as with a human one, and it had dropped automatically into the proper mode.
Which meant it would know if he lied to the upper-priest.
"Are you a seijin, Lieutenant?" Wylsynn asked.
"I have some, but by no means all, of the abilities seijin are reputed to have," Merlin replied calmly, choosing his words with deadly care. "I acquired them after many years in the Mountains of Light, but none of my teachers or instructors ever actually called me a seijin."
Wylsynn looked at the verifier's steady blue glow, then back up at Merlin's face.
"Why have you come to Charis?"
"For many reasons," Merlin said. "Specifically, I came to this kingdom to place my services and my sword at its disposal because I admire and respect King Haarahld, and because I believe Charis offers men the best chance to live as God would truly have them live."
"May I assume from your last answer that you believe in God's plan for Safehold?"
"Father," Merlin said very steadily, "I believe in God, I believe God has a plan for all men, everywhere, and I believe it's the duty of every man and woman to stand and contend for light against the darkness."
The verifier didn't even flicker, and Wylsynn's intent expression eased unexpectedly into a slight, crooked smile.
"I was going to ask you several more questions, Lieutenant," he said, "but you seem to believe in comprehensive answers."
"One tries, Father," Merlin murmured, and he and the upper-priest bowed to one another as Wylsynn stepped back from the dais, carefully deactivated the verifier, and returned it to its place of concealment.
"I thank you, Your Majesty, Your Highness. And you, Lieutenant Athrawes. I believe I know now what I needed to know in order to respond to the Archbishop's concerns."
"You're most welcome," Haarahld replied, and Merlin wondered if the king's calm voice concealed as much relief as he felt.
"And now, Your Majesty, Your Eminence, I know you have many duties to attend to. With your permission, I'll leave you to them."
"Of course, Father," Haarahld said, and Bishop Maikel raised one hand in benediction.
"You've done well here today, Father," the bishop said. "Would that all Mother Church's priests were as faithful, zealous, and careful in discharging their responsibilities. The blessings of God and the Archangels go with you."
"Thank you, Your Eminence," Wylsynn replied quietly. Then he bowed once again, and he was gone.
III
King Haarahld V Stadium,
Tellesberg
"Steeeeerike three!"
The capacity crowd in King Haarahld V Stadium roared its disapproval of the call, but the white-clad umpire behind the plate ignored the shouts coming his way. Umpires, after all, were the only branch of Mother Church's hierarchy who were accustomed to catcalls and vociferous disagreement.
Bishop Executor Zherald Ahdymsyn sometimes regretted that they were. It offended his sense of propriety for any of Mother Church's servants to be the subject of such abuse, although at least the Archangel Langhorne had been careful, when he established the Writ's commandments for the game, to reserve the office of umpire for the laity. It wasn't as if the crowd were booing a consecrated priest, after all. And this time around, even the most violently protesting fan probably understood that the umpire's call had been the correct one.
It would have been expecting a bit much out of them to admit it, though. The annual Kingdom Championship Series—yet again this year between the Tellesberg Krakens and their traditional, hated rivals, the Hairatha Dragons—was all tied up at three games each, and they were into the seventh inning of the deciding game with the Krakens trailing by two runs and the bases loaded, which made the second out on a called strike particularly painful.
The crowd noise subsided to its normal background surf, with only an occasional voice still shouting speculative comments on the quality of the umpire's vision, and the next batter advanced to the plate. A derisive cheer went up from the spectators as he stepped into the batter's box. Zhan Smolth was one of the most dominating pitchers in the league, especially in the post-season, and he was normally immensely popular. But like most pitchers, his batting performance was at best mediocre. Not only that, but he'd hit into an inning-ending double play in his last at-bat, and the home crowd clearly expected to be . . . disappointed by this one.
Which circumstances, Ahdymsyn thought, had made the preceding batter's strikeout even more excruciating for the spectators.
The bishop chuckled at the thought, then, as Smolth dug his cleats firmly in and tapped the plate with his bat, sat back in his comfortable, well-shaded seat in the box reserved for the Church's use in every major baseball stadium. Everyone else in the stadium was focused on the drama unfolding on the sun-drenched field, but Ahdymsyn's smile faded. He himself had other, more weighty matters on his mind.
In Haarahld V Stadium, the Church Box was located immediately to the right of th
e Royal Box. Zherald had only to turn his head to see King Haarahld and Crown Prince Cayleb watching the beautifully manicured field intently, and he frowned, ever so slightly, at the sight. It was a troubled frown, but it had nothing to do with the current game.
Zherald Ahdymsyn hadn't served as bishop executor for the Kingdom of Charis for so many years without gaining a certain sensitivity, even at this remove, to the political currents flowing about inside the Temple. No one actually told him anything about them in so many words, as a rule, but he'd had a lot of experience reading Archbishop Erayk's letters, and the latest set of dispatches had been even . . . franker than usual. It was apparent to Ahdymsyn that his temporal masters were unusually anxious over the reports they were receiving—not all from him—about Charis. That was never a good thing, and the freak accident which had prevented the archbishop from making his scheduled pastoral visit left his bishop executor responsible for dealing with it. Which, in Zherald Ahdymsyn's opinion was an even worse thing.