A Mighty Fortress (71 page)

“Against you?” Despite himself, despite even the fact that he was a PICA, and not a creature of flesh and blood, Merlin couldn’t quite keep the concern out of his voice and eyes.

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “Not immediately, at any rate. But when he starts putting people to the Question...”

She let her voice trail off, and he nodded slightly, but his thoughts were racing. Unlike Ahnzhelyk, he had access to an entire network of weather satellites. He knew this evening’s howling wind and plunging temperatures would ease somewhat over the next couple of days, but there was another winter storm coming behind the thaw. One which was going to be at least this bad.

“Is there someplace here in the city where you can go to ground for a five day or two?”

“If I have to,” she said, and then smiled faintly. “Why? Is one of those ‘
seijin
- like’ skills of yours telling you something I don’t know, Ahbraim?”

“Something like that,” he told her with an answering smile. “The weather’s going to be unusually severe for the next few days.” She looked the slightest bit skeptical, and he patted her hand with his free hand. “Just trust me, Ahnzhelyk. If we can avoid it, we don’t want you—or any of the others—trying to travel.”

She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s going to take a day or so for me to get the actual movement out of the city organized, anyway,” she said. “And, to be honest, it probably won’t hurt to have a few more days to work with. Assuming I’ve been as successful as I think I have in building my bolt- holes!”

“I think you have,” he assured her. “Well.” She looked around the sitting room for a moment, then shrugged again. “I’ll miss this place,” she said, almost wistfully. “I’ve accomplished at least a few useful things here. I only wish I hadn’t failed so completely in the end.”

“You haven’t failed,” he told her quietly. She looked back up at him, and he shook his head. “Trust me, the Group of Four’s days—the
Temple’s
days—are numbered. It’s going to take longer than you or I would like, but it’s going to happen, and people like you and Adorai Dynnys are one of the reasons it is.”

“But how many are going to die, first, Ahbraim?” she asked sadly, her expression still that of a woman chatting idly with a favored guest. “How many people are going to die, first?”

“Too many,” he said, unflinchingly. “But it’s not your doing, or your fault, and there are going to be a lot fewer of them, thanks to you, than there would have been otherwise. So, if you don’t mind, instead of worrying about how completely you’ve ‘failed,’ let’s just see about getting you and as many of those other people out of this alive as we can, all right?”

Captain Khanstahnzo Phandys of the Temple Guard walked swiftly down the Temple hallway. He wore the polished steel cuirass and scarlet tunic of the Guard over a heavy woolen sweater that was just a bit too warm here inside the Temple proper. His sword was sheathed at his hip, his gloves were tucked under his belt, and although he’d shed his heavy coat at the cloakroom when he entered the Temple, his tall boots and the legs of his breeches were dotted with the wet spots left by melted snow.

Captain Phandys’ expression was not a happy one, but he was scarcely alone in that, these days. In fact, he’d discovered that quite a few of his fellow Guard officers were obviously on edge this morning, as well, and there was something invisible in the air—something unseen, scentless, impossible to touch, yet all-pervasive.

It was scarcely the first time that had been true over the three years since the cataclysmic failure of the attack on the heretical Kingdom of Charis. That had been the sort of earthquake which came along perhaps once in a hundred years, Phandys thought now. It wasn’t the sort of thing a mere Guard captain was supposed to be thinking, but there was no point pretending he didn’t know it was true. Just as there was no point pretending that the tremors which the subsequent defection of Chisholm, Emerald, and Zebediah and the conquest of Corisande had sent through the Temple and the ranks of the vicarate hadn’t been even more deadly, in their own way.

For most subjects of the mainland realms, all of those distant lands were unimportant, lost beyond the periphery of their own interests. Besides, while Charis’ wealth might be the stuff of fabulous (and envious) legend, the island kingdom’s population was surely too small to pose any threat to the power of such great realms as Desnair, Dohlar, Harchong, even the Republic of Siddar-mark. The very notion was ridiculous . . . and that completely overlooked the fact that God, in His wisdom, would never permit the aggression of such apostate and heretical lands to prosper!

Yet those who wore Mother Church’s orange had a somewhat different view of things. Little though they might care to admit it—and, indeed, many flatly
refused
to admit it—they knew the rebellion of the “Church of Charis” had found frightening echoes in the other lands of the newborn Charisian Empire. They had begun to realize, however dimly, that people like Samyl and Hauwerd Wylsynn might have had a point all along. That the luxurious lifestyles and personal power to which they had become accustomed might not actually be quite so universally beloved and approved of as they’d told one another.

That in its attack on Charis, the Group of Four might just have unleashed forces which could destroy them all.

Such considerations were the business of those who far outranked Captain Phandys, and he knew it. He wasn’t an idiot, however, and his assignment to the Courier Ser vice had put him in an ideal position to recognize what was going on, since so many of the messages about world events passed through his hands. And even if that hadn’t been true, he’d been stationed here in the Temple for over two years now. During those years—and especially this past winter—he’d seen how things had changed since his last Temple tour. He’d seen what others had seen, recognized what others recognized, and there was no doubt in his mind that Grand Inquisitor Zhaspahr and Phandys’ own ultimate superior, Captain General Maigwair, had decided they could not afford to be threatened on more than one front at a time.

Which was precisely what brought Phandys here today, when he was supposed to be in his own office down in the Courier Ser vice’s lakeside annex.

He reached a cross hallway and turned left. A pair of vicars stood by one of the windows, gazing out into the frozen early morning. Their heads popped up, like startled wyverns, as Phandys appeared. They actually flinched, visibly, before they got themselves back under control, and the captain wondered what they’d been talking about so quietly. Given the way they’d reacted to the appearance of a mere Guard captain, it was probably something they
shouldn’t
have been discussing... as far as the Group of Four was concerned, at least, he reflected grimly. There’d been a lot of that going around lately.

Khanstahnzo Phandys had served in the Temple Guard for over fifteen years, and this was his fourth tour here in the Temple itself. In all those years, however, he’d never seen a winter like this one. Never seen the most senior ranks of the episcopate and the vicarate itself broken up into such ragged knots of apprehensive, all too often half- terrified men, all watching their own backs, frightened to reveal their true inner thoughts even among their closest intimates.

He saluted the vicars courteously as he strode past them. Neither acknowledged his salute. They only stared at him the way an ice wyvern perched on the edge of an ice flow might watch a circling kraken glide past.

He continued down the hall, turned another corner, descended a short, broad flight of steps, and found himself outside a closed door. He paused very briefly—a hesitation that was felt, more than seen—then rapped sharply.

“Yes?” a voice inquired. “May I speak with you for a moment, Major Kahrnaikys?” Phandys replied. “I’m afraid it’s fairly important, Sir.”

The voice didn’t reply immediately. Then— “Enter,” it said curtly, and the mystically powered doors slid silently open as someone waved a hand above the magic eye which commanded them.

Major Zhaphar Kahrnaikys was a tallish man, with red- brown hair, bushy brows, and dark eyes. He was a bit unusual in that he held rank simultaneously in both the Temple Guard proper and in the Order of Schueler, and Phandys felt his pulse quicken slightly as he saw Kahrnaikys’ sheathed sword lying on his desk instead of being racked on the wall in his inner office.

“What is it, Phandys?” the major said with an edge of impatience. He had the air of a man who was preoccupied. Phandys recognized that impatience, but he still took a moment to glance at the orderly sitting at his own desk in the outer office. Kahrnaikys followed his eyes. The major’s mouth tightened, obviously irritated at the implication, but then he grimaced and shook his head.

“Give us a minute, Sergeant,” he said sharply.

The noncom looked up, then rose quickly. “Yes, Sir!” He managed to keep most of the curiosity out of his eyes as he stepped past Phandys, but some of it leaked out anyway. As did an undeniable flicker of relief as the doors closed behind him, shielding him from what ever had brought Phandys to visit Kahrnaikys.

The major watched the doors close, then looked back at Phandys. “Well?” he said brusquely, and the captain drew a deep breath. “Sir,” he said, his voice more than a little troubled, “I’ve just become aware of something that . . . disturbs me. Something I thought should be drawn to the proper person’s attention.”

“You have, hey?” Kahrnaikys’ eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head to one side. “And from the fact that you’re standing in my office, should I assume you’ve decided I’m that ‘proper person,’ Captain?”

“In a way,” Phandys agreed. “At any rate, you’re the first one I thought of.” He let his eyes stray briefly to Kahrnaikys’ sword- and- flame Schuelerite badge.

“I see.” Kahrnaikys leaned back and crossed his arms. “Very well, Phandys. Tell me about it.”

“Sir, I’m the duty officer for the Courier Ser vice this morning,” Phandys began, “and—”

“If you’re the Courier duty officer, what are you doing here instead of in your office in the Annex?” Kahrnaikys interrupted harshly. He had a reputation as a demanding disciplinarian.

“Sir, I was at my post when I discovered an order that . . . looked odd to me,” Phandys said, clearly choosing his words with care. “Given the nature of that order, I felt I had no choice but to hand the duty over to Lieutenant Vyrnahn while I came and reported it to you.”

“What sort of order?” Kahrnaikys obviously doubted Phandys’ judgment, which could bode poorly for the captain’s future, but he was committed now.

“Sir, it was an order booking passage on the morning iceboat to Lakeview.” Kahrnaikys frowned, and Phandys hurried on. “The authorization had been logged in last night, and I probably wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t been catching up on some of my own routine paperwork. But the reason it seemed odd to me was that there was no name listed for the passage; the space was supposed to be reserved, but there was no notation as to who the passengers were going to be. So I checked it against the order book, and there was no name listed for the officer who’d signed in the initial authorization, either. Sir, as far as I can tell, the order just
appeared,
without anyone having officially authorized it.”

“What?” Kahrnaikys’ frown had deepened. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, Sir, that’s what I thought, too.” Phandys’ relief at the major’s reaction was obvious. “So I did some more checking around. And as nearly as I can tell from the form numbers, the order got inserted into the queue sometime after Langhorne’s Watch this morning. You know how quiet things are then?”

“Yes, yes!” Kahrnaikys said, unfolding his arms to wave one hand impatiently. “Of course I do. Go on!”

“Well, Sir, about that time, the night-duty officer logged in a long message from one of the vicars. In fact, it was long enough—and apparently important enough—that the vicar sending it
personally
brought it down to the Annex . . . despite how miserable the weather was.” Phandys shrugged. “I know the weather is
always
miserable this time of year, but last night was especially bad. He must’ve been half- frozen by the time he crossed the Colonnade all the way to the Annex. And since the message receiving room is usually closed at that time of night, the duty officer had to roust someone out to open it for him.”

“Are you suggesting, Captain, that while he was opening the receiving room and logging in this message, someone was slipping this anonymous iceboat reservation into the queue?” Kahrnaikys didn’t sound as incredulous as he might have, Phandys noticed.