By Schism Rent Asunder (61 page)

“I didn't know about the accident,” he said again, quietly. “I can see exactly why that would make you angry. For that matter, it makes
me
pretty damned angry, now that I know. But how does that tie in with the Temple Loyalists?”

“You really ought to sit down and discuss that with Bynzhamyn Raice,” Howsmyn told him. “I'm sure that by now Bynzhamyn must have quite a dossier on our good friend Traivyr.”

“Why?” Ironhill's eyes narrowed.

“Because the same bastard who couldn't care less about workers getting themselves killed in his manufactories is outraged by the very notion of our ‘godless apostasy' in daring to tell the Group of Four that we're disinclined to let them burn our homes over our heads. It turns out that we've damned every soul in Charis to an eternity with Shan-wei in Hell, to hear him tell it. Amazing how much more concerned he is over his workers' souls than over their physical well-being. Do you suppose that has anything to do with the fact that he's not going to have to pick up the ticket for their admission to Heaven?”

The bite in Howsmyn's voice could have peeled paint off a wall, and Ironhill frowned. Traivyr Kairee had always been very much a part of the religious establishment. Given his normal business practices and the way he treated his employees, however, Ironhill had always assumed his attachment to the Church stemmed from the amount of business and patronage it controlled rather than from any genuine sense of piety.

“Just how openly has he been expressing his views?” the Keeper of the Purse asked.

“Not quite as openly as he was,” Howsmyn acknowledged. “Right after Cayleb arrested Ahdymsyn and named Maikel Archbishop, he was a lot more vociferous. Since then, he's pulled back a notch or two, especially since the assassination attempt. I don't think he's talking about it very much in
public
at all, anymore. Unfortunately, I can't quite avoid moving in the same circles he does—not entirely—and people who know both of us tend to talk. Believe me, he hasn't changed his position, Ahlvyno. He's just been cautious enough to go at least a little underground with it. I doubt he's fooling Bynzhamyn's investigators into thinking he's changed his mind, but just look at him smiling and nodding over there. I don't like the thought of letting someone with his sympathies into stabbing range of the King.”

“I doubt he's prepared to take it quite
that
far,” Ironhill said slowly. “If nothing else, it would take more guts than
I've
ever seen him display.”

“Maybe not. But what he
would
damned well do is to run and tell his fellow Temple Loyalists anything he manages to pick up at Court—or anywhere else, for that matter.”

“Now that, I
could
see him doing,” Ironhill admitted. He frowned across the ballroom at Kairee for several more seconds, then grimaced.

“Before it slips my mind, Ehdwyrd, let me thank you for how thoroughly you've destroyed my limited enjoyment of the evening.”

“Think nothing of it,” Howsmyn said solemnly. “After all, that's what friends are for.”

“And don't think I won't find a way to return the favor,” Ironhill warned him. “On the other hand,” he continued more gravely, “you've given me quite a bit to think about. Kairee is bidding on several of the Crown's current contracts. In fact, unless I'm mistaken, he's probably the low bidder on at least two of them … including one for five thousand of the new rifles. Under the circumstances, I think it might behoove me to consider whether or not I want someone with his attitude that deep inside what we're doing.”

“I think it might, indeed,” Howsmyn agreed.

“I don't know how the King is going to react to the notion,” Ironhill warned him. “He's serious about this not penalizing anyone over matters of conscience as long as they haven't violated any laws.”

“Ahlvyno, I respect Cayleb deeply. More than that, I'm ready to follow him anywhere he leads. But he's still a very young man, in very many ways. I understand his logic in refusing to adopt repressive measures, and I understand Maikel's position on the consciences of individuals. That doesn't mean I think they're right. Or it might be better to say I don't think they're
entirely
right. At some point, they're going to have to start making some precautionary decisions based on what amounts to suspicion. I'm not talking about arrests, or arbitrary imprisonments, and God knows I'm not talking about executions. But they've
got
to start protecting themselves against others like Kairee.

“I'll be the first to admit that the intensity of my … dislike for him is driving my suspicions where he's concerned, to some extent, at least. And, like you, I don't think he's got the courage to risk dying for his beliefs. But there could be others who do have the courage … and who do a better job of hiding just how much they disagree with what we're doing here in Charis. Those are the ones that worry me, Ahlvyno.”

Ehdwyrd Howsmyn looked into his friend's eyes and shook his head, his eyes dark.

“Those are the ones that worry me,” he repeated.

.XIII.

City of Ferayd,
Ferayd Sound,
Kingdom of Delferahk

“How may I help you, My Lord Bishop?” Sir Vyk Lakyr asked courteously as Bishop Ernyst Jynkyns was shown into his office near the Ferayd waterfront. Father Styvyn Graivyr, Bishop Ernyst's intendant, followed on the bishop's heels, somber in the green cassock of an upper-priest bearing the sword and flame badge of the Order of Schueler.

Lakyr felt more than a little uneasy over what might have brought Jynkyns to see
him
. He was neither the mayor of Ferayd, nor the governor of the district in which the port city lay, with either of whom the Bishop of Ferayd normally might be expected to have business. What he
was
, was the senior officer of Ferayd's military garrison, which, given events elsewhere in the world of late, helped to explain his uneasiness.

“I've already visited the Mayor, Sir Vyk,” Jynkyns said. Lakyr's anxiety clicked up another few notches, although he kept his expression merely politely attentive. “I'm sure you'll be hearing from him—and quite probably from the Governor, as well—shortly. Since, however, this matter directly concerns Mother Church, I thought it would be best if I came and discussed it with you in person, as well.”

“I see,” Lakyr said. Then he paused and shook his head. “Actually, My Lord, I
don't
see. Not yet, at least.”

“That's honest, at any rate, Sir Vyk.” Jynkyns smiled. It was a brief smile, and his face quickly sobered once again.

“In point of fact, Sir Vyk,” he said, “I'm here on the direct instructions of Chancellor Trynair and Grand Inquisitor Clyntahn.”

Lakyr felt his facial muscles congeal, but he simply nodded.

“The Office of Inquisition, and the Council of Vicars, have determined that the pernicious doctrines, misrepresentations, blasphemies, and lies being spread by the apostate heretics of Charis are even more poisonous and corrupting to all of God's people than was at first believed,” Jynkyns said. Something in the bishop's tone sounded to Lakyr like a man who wasn't in complete agreement with what he was required to say, but the prelate went on unflinchingly.

“Because of the corrosiveness of the blasphemous teachings of the so-called ‘Church of Charis,' the Grand Inquisitor has determined that it is incumbent upon him to limit their spread by any means possible. And, since it has been well established that the merchant ships of the Kingdom of Charis carry its heretical teachings with them wherever they may go, as witness the copies of the apostate Staynair's falsehood-riddled ‘letter' to His Holiness which have been so broadly distributed, Grand Inquisitor Clyntahn has resolved to close all ports of all God-fearing realms against their entry and the seduction of their lies. Accordingly, you are to take steps to close Ferayd to them in future … and to seize and intern any Charisian-flag vessels currently in the port. According to my own dispatches, the King is in agreement with the Chancellor and the Grand Inquisitor in this matter. Mother Church has made the semaphore available to him, and I believe you will be receiving confirmation of these instructions from him shortly.”

Lakyr felt as if someone had just punched him unexpectedly. For a moment, he could only stare at Jynkyns, unable to immediately comprehend what the bishop had said. Then his brain started working again, and he wondered why he'd felt surprised.

Because this is going to effectively destroy Ferayd's economy, that's why,
a stubborn voice said in the back of his brain. The city had grown wealthy and powerful because it was the major port of the Kingdom of Delferahk … and because its relative proximity to Charis made it a natural transshipment point for cargoes from and to ports all over the west coast of Howard, as well.
It's like spanking a baby with an ax!

“If those are my orders from King Zhames and from Mother Church, My Lord Bishop,” he said, “I will, of course, carry them out to the best of my ability. However, I feel I should point out that there are at least twenty-five Charisian-flag vessels in the harbor at this very moment. For that matter, there are probably more than that; I haven't checked with the harbormaster lately, but there have been more of them even than usual since … ah, since that business in Darcos Sound.” He cleared his throat a bit nervously, then continued. “Not only that, but at least half of them are lying to anchor, waiting for dockside berths, not tied up alongside one of the wharves. That's going to make them rather difficult to seize if they realize what's happening and try to make sail.”

“You'll have the assistance of several galleys,” Father Styvyn said rather abruptly. A flicker of annoyance flashed across Jynkyns' face and his lips pressed firmly together for perhaps a single heartbeat, but he didn't rebuke Graivyr for inserting himself into the conversation.

Of course he didn't,
Lakyr thought.
Graivyr's not exactly noted for his humility and easygoing temperament at the best of times. God only knows what he's likely to report to the Temple if he decides someone
—
even the Bishop
—
is obstructing the Grand Inquisitor's decrees. Which is a point
I'd
better bear in mind, as well
.

“That will undoubtedly help a great deal, Father,” he said aloud. “It's still going to be tricky, though. We'll do the best we can, I assure you, but it's entirely possible that at least a few of them will evade us.”

“Then sink them if they try,” Graivyr said coldly.

“Sink them if there's no other way to stop them,” Jynkyns corrected quietly. The look Graivyr gave him was not the sort Lakyr was accustomed to seeing a mere upper-priest give a bishop, but Jynkyns met it levelly.

“Of course that's what I meant, My Lord,” the intendant said after a brief hesitation.

“Ah, that might be more easily said than done, I'm afraid, Father,” Lakyr said delicately. Both clerics turned back to him, and he shrugged. “At the moment, none of the island batteries are manned. I have skeleton gun crews for the waterfront batteries, but not for the outer batteries. If they get out of the harbor proper, they'll have a free run through any of the main channels.”

“Then
get
them manned.” Graivyr sounded as if he thought he were speaking to an idiot, and Lakyr felt his jaw muscles tighten.

“It's not that simple, Father,” he said, trying very hard to keep any emotion out of his voice. “I don't
have
the gunners for those batteries. We don't normally keep them manned during times of peace, you know.”

Which
, he carefully did
not
say aloud,
is because they're over a hundred frigging miles from the city, you … uninformed soul
.

The large islands between Ferayd Sound and the Southern Ocean, and the extensive shoals around them, helped shelter the huge bay from the often fractious weather off the southern tip of Howard. The islands also offered handy places to put batteries to cover the shipping channels, but manning fortifications like those was expensive … and Zhames II of Delferahk had a well-deserved reputation for pinching marks until they squealed. Aside from what were little more than bare minimum caretaker detachments, the island batteries were never manned in peacetime.

“It would take several days at a minimum—more probably the better part of two or three five-days, to be honest, even if you permitted me the use of Mother Church's semaphore—for me to request the necessary gun crews, get them here, and then get them transported all the way out to the islands,” he continued in that same painfully neutral tone. “My impression was that you intend for me to close the port to Charis promptly. If that is, indeed, the case, there won't be sufficient time to get the gunners we need to man the channel forts.”

“I see.” Graivyr looked as if he wanted to find fault with Lakyr's explanation and felt nothing but irritation when he couldn't.

“You're correct about how quickly we need this done, Sir Vyk,” Jynkyns said. “And”—he glanced at Graivyr—“all God can ask of any man is that he do the best he can within the capabilities he has. I feel confident that you, as always, will do just that.”

“Thank you, Bishop.” Lakyr gave him a slight but heartfelt bow.

“In that case, we'll leave you to begin making your preparations,” the bishop said. “Come, Styvyn.”

Graivyr looked briefly rebellious. Because, Lakyr realized, the intendant wanted to take personal command of the entire operation. Since he couldn't do that, the next best thing would have been to spend several hours telling Lakyr how
he
should go about doing it.