A Mighty Fortress (64 page)

Nahrmahn took another bite of buttered scone as the simplest means of suppressing his smile.

“You’re right, Your Majesty. I did somehow manage to forget about that. I apologize.” The
seijin
bowed to her again, a bit more deeply than before.

“You said you meant to talk to us ‘first thing in the morning,’ ” Cayleb said as Merlin straightened once more. The emperor’s eyes were intent. “Should I assume you intended to discuss certain events in Corisande?”

“I see you already know about that.” Merlin’s tone was just a bit odd, Nahrmahn thought. Almost—not quite, but
almost
— uncomfortable.

“You might say that,” Cayleb replied grimly. “I’ve been asking Owl to keep an eye on Father Tymahn’s sermons. When I asked him for an update this morning, he told me.”

“I see.”

Merlin’s voice still seemed just a little off normal, Nahrmahn thought, and felt his own curiosity perk.

“We’ve just been discussing with Nahrmahn whether or not we should allow Maikel to continue with his pastoral visit,” Sharleyan said. “Obviously, Cayleb and I aren’t especially overjoyed at the prospect in light of all this. So we’ve been thinking we should send
you
along to make sure Waimyn and his butchers don’t take a shot at him, as well.”

“That Wai—?” Merlin began, then stopped.

He looked back and forth between Cayleb and Sharleyan for a moment, his expression most peculiar, then cleared his throat. All three flesh- and- blood members of his audience knew a PICA had absolutely no reason ever to do anything of the sort, just as all three of them had long since realized it served Merlin as a sort of time- buying mannerism. Which explained why all three of them found themselves looking back at him in various degrees of confusion, puzzlement, and speculation.

“Merlin?” Cayleb asked with the stern, slightly rising inflection of a parent who suspects his offspring has Been Up To Something. Merlin looked back at him, then did another thing a PICA never really had to do and sighed.

“You said Owl told you Father Tymahn had been murdered,” he said just a bit obliquely. “I assumed from that that you meant you’d asked him for a complete report on the situation.”

“What was there to ask about?” Cayleb retorted. “Tymahn was already dead, and it’s not as if anything we decide this morning is going to have any immediate effect in Corisande. For that matter, it isn’t even dawn yet in Manchyr.”

“Actually,” Merlin corrected with scrupulous accuracy, “it
is
dawn in Manchyr. And they’re having lovely, clear weather down there, too, I might add.”

“And just what
else
is happening in Manchyr, Captain Athrawes?” Sharleyan demanded, regarding him with pronounced suspicion.

“Well, as a matter of fact, it happens that at this particular moment Koryn Gahrvai and his father, Charlz Doyal, General Chermyn, Bishop Kaisi, and Archbishop Klairmant are having their first interview with Aidryn Waimyn.”

“They’re
what?!
” Cayleb actually rose an inch or two out of his chair, and Sharleyan’s eyes widened in astonishment. Nahrmahn, on the other hand, simply sat back with his chocolate cup in hand.

“I’m sorry, Cayleb,” Merlin said. “When you told me Owl had told you what had happened, I thought you meant he’d told you everything.”

“Well,” Cayleb said with commendable restraint as he sat back down again, “obviously, you were in error.”

“So I’ve just realized,” Merlin replied a bit dryly. Then he shook his head. “Actually, Owl’s finally starting to show signs of real autonomous self- awareness. He became aware of what was happening and realized I’d want to know about it, so he woke me up.” The
seijin
’s artificial face muscles tightened. “Unfortunately, he’d picked up on it too late. Even if I’d dared to go to Manchyr to intervene, I’d never have gotten there in time. So all I could do was sit there and watch him die.”

Merlin’s face was a grim, harsh mask now. Sharleyan had never seen it quite that way before, even after the assassination attempt at Saint Agtha’s. Cayleb had . . . on the quarterdeck of the galley
Royal Charis
when Merlin realized he hadn’t been in time to save King Haarahld, after all.

“It was ugly,” Merlin said quietly. “Very ugly. And I couldn’t do one single damn thing to stop it.” His right fist clenched at his side, and he looked down at it, as if it belonged to someone else. “I didn’t see any reason to com you two and wake you up in the middle of the night to see something like that when none of us could do anything about it, anyway.” He looked back up again. “So I decided I’d wait until I could get back here in person,
then
tell you—preferably not until after you’d had breakfast, since I didn’t expect you to have a lot of appetite afterward. But when I reached the palace, Franz Ahstyn told me you were already up and that you’d summoned Nahrmahn. I was afraid I knew why.”

“All right,” Cayleb said slowly. “I understand that much. But what’s this business about Waimyn?”

“I couldn’t keep them from murdering Father Tymahn,” Merlin replied. “But I decided I could keep them from murdering anyone else. And that I’d damned well
better,
if I didn’t want even more of the Reformists butchered and dumped on street corners somewhere. So I used one of Owl’s remotes to write a little note, then toss it through Koryn Gahrvai’s window.” He smiled faintly, despite his grim mood. “I think it got his attention. And when he’d read it—”

“—so that’s about the size of it,” Merlin finished several minutes later. “Gahrvai’s men got Aimayl and at least three- quarters of the rest of Waimyn’s top cell leaders. Hainree heard them coming, though, and he managed to evade them. And so did that nasty piece of work Cahmmyng. But Gahrvai’s confiscated all four of their main weapons caches, and he’s got more than enough people to interrogate.” Merlin grimaced. “They’re not being any too gentle about how they ask questions, either. They’re being scrupulous about staying away from
The Book of Schueler,
but that’s not stopping them from being pretty damned . . . insistent. I imagine he and Doyal will be coming up with all sorts of ‘normal’ leads to help keep what’s left of Waimyn’s organization in Manchyr on the run.”

“My God, Merlin.” Cayleb had sat silent during Merlin’s recital. Now he shook his head. “Forgive me for asking, but hadn’t we all pretty much decided we needed to leave those people
alone
? Keep an eye on them and build up that ‘database’ of yours?”

“We had,” Merlin agreed. “But when they murdered Father Tymahn they escalated things to an entirely different level.” His sapphire eyes were grim and hard. “Bad enough if they’d only kidnapped him, held him as a hostage while they made demands or something like that. But they intended to kill him from the outset, and they did it in a way which was a deliberate challenge to Archbishop Klairmant, to Gahrvai’s authority, to the Regency Council, and even to Chermyn. I couldn’t let that stand—not when Tymahn and the other Reformists have been making so much ground in the capital.”

“
You
couldn’t let it stand?” Sharleyan said in a careful tone, and Merlin nodded.

“
I
couldn’t,” he confirmed flatly.

There was silence in the council chamber again. Snow was falling more heavily outside the window, and Nahrmahn rather imagined he could feel the day’s chill even from where he sat. Except that the cold breeze blowing down his spine at the moment had nothing at all to do with the weather.

We tend to forget that Merlin—Nimue Alban—has his own agenda,
the Emeraldian prince thought quietly.
We work together with him so closely, and the success of Charis is so important to his mission, that we forget he isn’t really a Charisian himself. Not even a
Safeholdian,
when you come to it. I suspect this is the first time since Cayleb learned the truth about him that Merlin hasn’t even consulted the Emperor before making a decision of such magnitude. I wonder how Cayleb and Sharleyan—especially Cayleb—are going to react to that?

“And the reason you didn’t tell us all this yesterday?” Cayleb asked quietly. “Because, as I said, I wanted to tell you in person. I hoped you wouldn’t have heard about Father Tymahn’s murder before I got back here, since I’m the one who normally monitors what’s going on in Manchyr. I wanted to give you that news personally, not over the com. And I wanted to tell you personally what I’d done about it.”

“Because you expected us to be angry that you didn’t even consult with us before standing our entire strategy for Manchyr on its head? Was that it?” It was impossible to read Cayleb’s tone, but his eyes were very intent.

“Not so much because I expected you and Sharleyan to be angry, no,” Merlin replied steadily. “I did think, though, that since I’d already gone ahead and acted—since it was what we used to call a ‘fait accompli’ back on Old Earth—I at least owed you the courtesy of a personal explanation of what I’d done and why.”

Cayleb sat back in his chair on his side of the table, gazing at the tall, blue-eyed man in the blackened armor, badged with the gold, blue, and silver of the Empire of Charis, standing on its other side. Nahrmahn wondered which Cayleb was seeing in that moment: the Imperial Guardsman, or the PICA with the soul of a dead woman?

Then the emperor glanced at Sharleyan for a moment and shrugged. “First, Merlin, let me say—and I imagine I speak for Sharley in this, as well—that, under the circumstances, I wholeheartedly approve of your decision.”

He lifted one eyebrow at his wife, who nodded in firm agreement, then turned his attention back to Merlin.

“Second, however, I’d like to remind you of a conversation you had, once upon a time, with my father. ‘I respect you, and in many ways I admire you,’ you said to him. ‘But my true loyalty? That belongs not to you, or to Cayleb, but to the future. I
will
use you, if I can, Your Majesty.’ ”

The council chamber was silent once more, and Cayleb smiled thinly. “Are you surprised I knew what you said to him?” the emperor asked. “A bit,” Merlin admitted after a moment. “I didn’t realize he’d told you about that.”

“He didn’t. Charlz Gahrdaner did. Father hadn’t told him not to, and when he saw how close you and I were getting, he thought I should know. It wasn’t that he distrusted you, Merlin. It’s just that
his
loyalty was first, last, and always to Charis. To the House of Ahrmahk.”

“And are you angry that mine isn’t?” Merlin asked softly. “Merlin.” Cayleb shook his head with a sudden, unexpected smile. It was a bit crooked, that smile, but it was definitely a
smile
. “Merlin, I’ve
always
known that. Even if Charlz hadn’t told me, you have, often enough and openly. It hasn’t kept you from offering Sharley and me your friendship—even your ser -vice. For God’s sake, you flew halfway around the planet to save her
life
! Of course I could wish—hope—we’ll always find ourselves in general agreement. And I’ll admit that I would have preferred to have at least a little input before you sicced Gahrvai on Waimyn. In that regard, please feel as free to wake me up in the middle of the night as I’ve always felt about waking
you
up. But don’t think I expect you to do one inch less than what ever it is you believe your duty requires of you. I’m not that stupid. And I’m not that
selfish,
either, Merlin.” He shook his head again. “There’s a phrase you used to me once, about someone else. You said he’d ‘paid cash’ for the right to make up his own mind about something. Well, so have you.”

There was another moment of silence, then Merlin chuckled. “I hoped you’d take it that way,” he said. “I’d be lying if I said I’d been certain you would, though.”

“And would it have made one bit of difference to your future actions if I’d decided to pitch an imperial tantrum about your having had the sheer effrontery to make a decision without consulting me and Sharley?”

“No,” Merlin told him a bit wryly. “No, not really.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Cayleb said.

Archbishop Maikel’s Suite,

Archbishop’s Palace,

City of Cherayth,

Kingdom of Chisholm

Maikel Staynair looked up from the book in his lap as someone rapped lightly on his chamber door.

The morning had been as quiet as only a winter morning could be. He’d stationed himself by his chamber’s eastern- facing window in order to take advantage of the morning light for his reading, but it had also let him look out across the snowy Chisholmian landscape. He hadn’t been in Cherayth long enough for the novelty of snow to fade, and he found the graceful, floating descent of the snowflakes endlessly fascinating. Ahrdyn, on the other hand, had decided snow was a terrible idea. Fortunately for the cat- lizard’s peace of mind, his basket was large enough to accommodate a truly luxurious, incredibly soft blanket—a gift from Empress Sharleyan, in fact—and he was currently burrowed down under it, with only the very tip of his nose exposed.