“Trust me, My Lord,” Cayleb replied dryly, “a few thousand miles of seawater, plus the fact that the idiots didn’t leave us any choice, had a lot to do with Charisian ‘gumption’ and ‘courage.’” It was his turn to shake his head. “My father saw this coming years ago, but that doesn’t mean all of us wouldn’t have preferred to avoid it.”
“Some things can’t be avoided, Your Majesty,” Staynair said as one of the Siddarmarkian armsmen outside the conference chamber doors opened the hand-rubbed, brilliantly polished doors. “I’ve had quite a bit of experience with that over the last few months.”
“You certainly have.” Cayleb followed the lord protector into the chamber, Major Athrawes at his heels, and Stohnar’s most trusted advisers bowed deeply.
“And I’m afraid none of us are done having that experience just yet, Your Majesty.” Stohnar’s nostrils flared. “You can’t get armies through our mountains very well, but individual couriers are another matter. We’ve been receiving a lot of information from the occupied provinces, and none of it makes very happy hearing.”
“I’m not surprised.” Cayleb carefully didn’t glance over his shoulder at his personal armsman. “We have spies and sources of our own, and I’m sure they’re telling us essentially what yours are telling you. That’s the reason I’ve sent Earl Hanth and our Marines to Eralth Bay. It seemed to us in Charis that you’re actually most exposed on your southern flank at the moment, so it seemed best to shore it up while we wait for Duke Eastshare to arrive here in Siddar City … and to see which way the Army of God jumps in the north. But no matter what we do, I’m afraid we’re likely to lose more of your territory before we can hope to start driving them back.”
“But we will drive them back, Your Majesty,” a burly, broad-shouldered man with traces of silver in his brown beard said flatly.
“Lord Daryus Parkair, the Republic’s Seneschal, Your Majesty,” Stohnar said. “I’m afraid Daryus is a bit bluntly spoken from time to time.”
“In which case we should get along fine, My Lord.” Cayleb quirked a smile. “I’ve been known to be just a tad blunt myself upon occasion. And Empress Sharleyan would suggest that it’s even remotely possible I’m just a little on the stubborn side as well.”
“Would she really?” Stohnar snorted in amusement. “I believe my wife occasionally said much the same about me. Certainly our elder daughter’s continued to say it for her since we lost her.”
“And, with all due respect, Your Majesty,” another Siddarmarkian said, “in Her Majesty’s case that might be a bit of the pot and the kettle. All the world’s heard how … determined Sharleyan of Chisholm can be.”
“Lord Henrai Maidyn,” Stohnar said in introduction, and Cayleb nodded.
“And your spymaster, if my own sources are correct,” the emperor acknowledged with a smile, then bowed to the only woman present. “And this must be the redoubtable Aivah Pahrsahn.” She swept him a courtesy, and he kissed the back of her hand. “I’ve heard a great deal about you,” he continued, “and I’ve looked forward to meeting you myself. A friend of Major Athrawes—an Ahbraim Zhevons—asked me to extend his greetings.”
Every set of Siddarmarkian eyes narrowed at that, but she seemed unaware of their sharpened interest as she gave the visiting emperor a dimpled smile.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She inclined her head again. “And, please, should you or Seijin Merlin be speaking to him again anytime soon, give him my greetings in return. I do trust you’ve made good use of all that … correspondence I sent you.”
“As deep background and to help us understand what we think are the likely factions within the Temple, we certainly have,” Cayleb told her. “We’ve hesitated to make open use of its more … sensitive aspects for several reasons. Our fear of the possibility of reprisals against anyone named in it who might still be in Zion is part of that, but the nature of the propaganda battle between us and the Group of Four is a factor as well.”
“I can appreciate both those reasons, Your Majesty. But a weapon’s only a weapon if the one who holds it is prepared to use it.” She looked deep into his eyes. “There are some aspects of that information which could have serious repercussions for quite a few vicars I’m sure Clyntahn thinks are firmly in his pocket.”
“Indeed there are. But there’s also the matter of timing. My own advisors and I have been of the opinion that it might be better to make use of those aspects at a time when we’d be seen as speaking from strength, not the desperation of weakness.”
“Definitely something worth keeping in mind,” she acknowledged, and Cayleb gave her hand another squeeze before he turned to the two men who had not yet been introduced.
“Lord Samyl Gahdarhd,” Stohnar said, “and this, Your Majesty,” his voice deepened ever so slightly, “is Archbishop Dahnyld.”
“Your Eminence.” Cayleb bent to kiss Dahnyld Fardhym’s ring.
“Your Majesty,” the archbishop replied gravely, returning the emperor’s bow.
“I bring you Archbishop Maikel’s greetings,” Cayleb said. “I regret that his pastoral duties prevented him from accompanying me. At the same time, I think we might all agree that welcoming a mere emperor is likely to cause repercussions enough without the Republic’s extending a formal welcome—and recognition—to the head of the Church of Charis, as well.”
“Not to mention the repercussions of the Archbishop of Siddarmark doing the same thing in Mother Church’s name,” Fharmyn observed.
“Well, of course, Your Eminence. That goes without saying. I was trying to be diplomatic, however.” Cayleb shrugged apologetically. “I promised my wife I would.”
“I see.”
The archbishop was several inches shorter than Cayleb and twice the emperor’s age, with a lined face, a stocky build, and dark hair going white at the temples. He smiled briefly at the emperor’s last sentence, but his eyes, which Cayleb suspected were usually warm, were darker and harder than agate.
“I appreciate the effort, Your Majesty,” he continued. “Under the circumstances, though, it’s not really necessary. I might quibble with some points of Archbishop Maikel’s doctrine, but compared to my differences with those monsters in Zion, those quibbles would be minor indeed.”
“They would?” Cayleb raised his eyebrows, his tone mild, and Fharmyn snorted. It was a harsh, angry, explosive sound, and his eyes turned harder than ever.
“I’m a Bédardist, too, Your Majesty. Like the Pasqualates, we’re charged to heal, not harm. That’s the first and deepest obligation of our order, after faith in God Himself, and that’s been an increasing problem for quite a lot of us. Indeed, I’ll readily confess I was of a Reformist bent, like many of my order here in Siddarmark, even before Clyntahn loosed his Sword of Schueler on the Republic. Not as strongly as your archbishop, perhaps, and with a faith that burned less fiercely. Perhaps less fearlessly. But this past winter’s changed that, because I’ve seen the same reports Lord Protector Greyghor’s seen. I’ve visited the Charisian Quarter here in Siddar City. I’ve talked to the refugees, seen proof in scars and broken bodies of the atrocities committed in God’s name, and I know who’s truly responsible for all of them. It would give me the greatest pleasure imaginable to welcome Archbishop Maikel in Siddar Cathedral, and the only thing that could possibly flaw that pleasure would be my own knowledge of how much of it came from flinging that welcome in Zhaspahr Clyntahn’s face rather than from the strength of my agreement with the Archbishop’s doctrine. I do agree with it, you understand; it’s simply that I’m still too fallible a mortal to deny how deeply and passionately I’ve come to hate the men who have chosen to pervert everything God stands for in the name of their own foul ambition.”
Cayleb’s eyes widened, and his head twitched as he suppressed the urge to look in Merlin’s direction. Fardhym had never expressed himself that openly, that bluntly, to anyone. Their analysis of the take from the remotes deployed to keep watch upon him had noted the obvious sincerity of his own faith
, yet they’d never dared to anticipate such a forthright declaration. Certainly none of the inner circle would have expected to hear it from him so soon, and from the expressions of the other Siddarmarkians, even they were a bit surprised to hear it now.
“Your Eminence, I won’t pretend the prospect of having the Republic as a mainland ally didn’t come as a gift from God from Charis’ viewpoint,” the emperor said after a moment. “Despite that, I can’t tell you how deeply I regret the fact that you’ve been forced to observe such atrocities here. But I think what you’ve seen is simply part of what and who Zhaspahr Clyntahn truly is. God knows we’ve had enough experience in Charis, and those ghastly pogroms of his in the Temple Lands only underscore it. But the truth is that he’ll never stop, never admit any limit on his own excesses, until someone stops him, and that’s what the Empire of Charis has sworn to do. We will stop him, Your Eminence, and when we do, he’ll pay in full for his crimes here in the Republic and everywhere else.”
“In that case, Your Majesty, all I’ll say is this—God send the day, and Langhorne send that it comes soon.”
Iron was softer and far flimsier than that voice, and silence lingered in its wake until Stohnar cleared his throat.
“I think we can all agree with that sentiment, Your Eminence. And towards that end, Your Majesty,” he turned to face Cayleb, “I believe you and I have a formal treaty to sign this afternoon. Before we do, though, I thought it would be a good idea for you to be fully briefed by Daryus and Henrai on just how bad your new ally’s situation truly is.”
“I doubt it’s any worse than ours was before the Armageddon Reef campaign, My Lord. And, as you can see, we’re still here.” Cayleb smiled grimly. “I’m not concerned about my new ally’s situation. Oh, tactically, perhaps,” he waved one hand, “but in the end? The Writ says evil prepares its own downfall. It seems the Grand Inquisitor missed that passage, somehow, but I haven’t, and I have boundless faith in it.”
“As do I, Your Majesty. Which isn’t to say I don’t anticipate a few … anxious moments along the way.”
“Of course you do.” Cayleb actually chuckled. “The Writ also says God tests those worthy of His service. Given the service to which He’s called us, it would be remarkable if the tests weren’t severe enough to make anyone feel anxious. Occasionally, at least.”
He smiled and turned to Parkair and Maidyn.
“I have no doubt you’re about to make me feel more than anxious enough to be going on with, My Lords. So why don’t we go ahead and get started?
* * *
“Thank you for seeing me, Your Majesty.”
“There’s no need to thank me, Sir Rayjhis,” Cayleb said quietly. “The service you’ve performed here in Siddarmark has been … extraordinary. Her Majesty and I are both deeply grateful for how faithfully and unsparingly you’ve served Charis.”
The emperor sat in a massive wooden armchair that was vaguely thronelike, with Merlin Athrawes at his back, while morning sunlight streamed through the windows behind him. The office wasn’t especially huge—rooms tended to be smaller and with lower ceilings in Siddar City, largely to make them easier to heat in the winter—but it was comfortably furnished and its walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. It had, in fact, been Sir Rayjhis Dragoner’s own office until the Charisian ambassador to the Republic moved elsewhere to free up space in the embassy for Cayleb’s use. He appreciated the ambassador’s willingness to move, although he hadn’t looked forward at all to this morning’s meeting. He knew why Dragoner had requested it.
Now he sat back, studying the worn, exhausted face and haunted eyes of the man who’d represented Charis’ interests in Siddarmark so long and so well. He’d only met Dragoner a handful of times before King Haarahld dispatched the career diplomat to Siddar City, but since then, the man had aged far more than the simple passage of time could account for. His dark hair had turned almost completely white, his cheekbones stood out like eroded knobs of rock, his eyes were dark and sunken, and his fingers shook with a slight, almost imperceptible quiver whenever they weren’t tightly clenched.
We should’ve recalled him, Cayleb thought remorsefully. We should have. It wasn’t fair to him.
But they hadn’t, because no one else could have matched Sir Rayjhis Dragoner’s contacts in the highest circles of the Republic’s government. No one else would have had his insights, his awareness of the pulse and pattern of Siddarmark’s political life. And no one else could have represented Charis better, despite his own deep religious reservations.
The religious reservations and internal conflict which had aged him so visibly.
“Your Majesty,” Dragoner began, but Cayleb raised one hand in gentle gesture which halted the ambassador instantly.
“Sir Rayjhis, I want you to know that no one could possibly be better aware than Empress Sharleyan and I of how faithfully you’ve served Charis. We know how long and hard you’ve labored since the Group of Four’s original attack on Charis. We know how hard you’ve driven yourself, how unstintingly you’ve spent your strength in our service, how vigilant and honest you’ve been. And”—the emperor looked deeply into Dragoner’s eyes—“we know how personally and painfully difficult it’s been for you to discharge your duty to us so faithfully and so well.”
Dragoner’s lips trembled, and he started to open his mouth, but again that raised hand stopped him.
“I know why you requested this meeting,” Cayleb said quietly. “I regret that you felt it necessary, but I regret even more that the extraordinary skill and unremitting diligence you’ve displayed prevented us from recalling you long ago. It was wrong of us. Sir Rayjhis, we knew—we always knew—that what we demanded of you as Charis’ ambassador caused you immense pain as a son of Mother Church. That we were setting your loyalty to Charis at odds with your sense of what you owed to God Himself and to the archangels. And we knew that for all the pain we were causing you, you would never ask to be relieved—never desert your post—when Charis stood in danger. And because we knew that, we used you, Sir Rayjhis. We used you mercilessly and cruelly because we had no choice. Because we needed you so desperately.”
Dragoner swallowed hard, and Cayleb shook his head.
“It shames me to admit that to you. As a king and an emperor I had no choice, but as a man, I am ashamed. As a king and emperor, I ought to’ve refused this meeting, because no man could possibly be more valuable to us here in Siddar City, even now, than you’ve proven yourself to be. I know that if I demand it of you, you’ll continue that service even now, and an emperor, knowing that, can return only one answer to the request which brings you here. But I’ve discovered I’m not simply an emperor. Not in this. I understand why you’re here, and there are times a man’s duty as an emperor must take second place simply to his duty as a man … which is why the answer is yes.”
The ambassador’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Cayleb stood. He crossed to the older man and laid his hands on Dragoner’s shoulders.
“I know that even now, despite all Zhaspahr Clyntahn’s done, you could never draw your own sword against Mother Church,” he said softly. “I think you’re wrong about that. I believe the damage is too deep, the poison too deeply set, for there to be any resolution short of the sword. But I understand your reverence for Mother Church, your respect for all she may have been and accomplished in the past and your fear of the doors we may open if we settle our conflict with those who have twisted her teachings by raising our own hand in impious violence. I respect that difference of view between us, and knowing that difference exists, we’ve driven you too hard and too far in what we’ve already demanded of you.
“The time has come for us to stop. The treaty I signed with Lord Protector Greyghor yesterday is as much your work as ours, and it’s work done well, despite the pain we know you felt in every sentence, every comma and period. We couldn’t have expected more of any man and we cannot demand any more of you. So I release you from your office, Sir Rayjhis Drago
ner, with my thanks and Sharleyan’s, and with our most profound apologies for all we’ve done to you and taken from you. Return to your family, heal, and if you can find it in your heart to forgive us, we ask that last gift of you.”
“Your Majesty,” Dragoner said hoarsely, “there’s nothing to forgive. I could have asked you to relieve me at any time. I chose not to. Perhaps that was the wrong decision, but it was my decision. Yet you’re right. I can’t … I can’t serve you any longer, not in this.” The tears in his eyes broke loose, and he shook his head as they trickled slowly down his cheeks. “I love Charis, and I always will. I could never—would never—do anything to harm her, or you, or your house. But I look at what I’ve already done in Charis’ name and the consequences it may have for Mother Church, and I know I can do no more. I’m tired, Your Majesty—so tired. Perhaps it’s a form of cowardice, but I need that chance to heal, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving it to me with such understanding and compassion.”
“You’ve been in a terrible place in our service, Sir Rayjhis. It’s a place too many people have been forced into, but that only makes it more terrible, not less. No one can blame you for following your own faith and your own conscience. That’s the reason Sharleyan and I have agreed with Archbishop Maikel from the beginning that Temple Loyalists in Charis must have the right to do precisely that. So how could we possibly deny you that right, when you’ve served us so long and so well? I know you fear the ultimate consequences of our actions to Mother Church, but I’ll say this in the words of the Book of Langhorne. ‘Well done, you good and faithful servant. Rejoice in the love and appreciation of your Lord and enter into the reward you have so well deserved.’” Cayleb shook the ambassador very, very gently. “Go home, Sir Rayjhis. Go home to those who love you, and know Sharleyan and I will never forget the debt we owe you.”