By Heresies Distressed (93 page)

“Well,” she said, snuggling down and pressing her cheek back into his shoulder, “as you say, we've got a lot of smart people on our side, too, including you and me. And we've got Merlin, and Archbishop Maikel, and—I'm fairly sure—we've got God. Between the lot of us, we ought to be able to handle anything someone like Clyntahn can throw at us.”

“I don't like it, Samyl.”

Hauwerd Wylsynn shook his head, his expression grave, as he and his older brother sat facing one another across the remnants of their supper. An autumn rainstorm beat against the huge window of the dining room, running down the transparency in sheets that turned the gathering evening's cloud-struck gloom beyond into a wavering tapestry, like some oracle's obscure vision of an uncertain future.

“There are quite a few things I don't much care for at the moment, myself, Hauwerd,” Samyl replied. “Would you care to be a bit more specific?”

“Don't try to be humorous,” his brother growled. “I'm not in the mood for it.”

“Under the circumstances, I don't think any of us can afford to simply abandon our sense of humor,” Samyl pointed out. “Not unless we want to brood on all our potential troubles until it drives all of us mad and Clyntahn can be shut of us without any effort on his part at all.”

“Very funny,” Hauwerd said sourly. Then he drew a deep breath and straightened in his chair. “But probably accurate,” he conceded. “Mind you, I don't think I'm going to find a great many laughing matters this winter.”

“We'll find them where we can,” Samyl said philosophically. “For the rest, all we can do is trust God.”

“I'd feel better if we had His promise that trusting in Him would bring us all through this with whole skins.”

“So would I. Unfortunately, He never promised that. So go ahead and tell me what it is you've got on your mind tonight.”

“It's the . . . stridency with which Clyntahn and Trynair are riding Cayleb's supposed responsibility for Hektor's assassination,” Hauwerd said.

“What? You don't think he did it?” Samyl asked innocently.

“Forget you're a Schuelerite and stop playing Shan-wei's advocate,” Hauwerd half-growled. “First, no, I don't think he did it. I've told you that before. He's too smart to do something this stupid. And, second, whether he was responsible or not isn't really germane to what's bothering me.”

“Then what is germane?” Samyl asked . . . without, Hauwerd noticed, ever actually saying whether or not he believed Cayleb Ahrmahk had ordered Prince Hektor's murder.

“It's the way they're going about it. Stacking it on top of all of Charis' ‘unprovoked aggression' against Delferahk.” Hauwerd shook his head. “Couple that with the Address from the Throne, and what do you see? You see them preparing the ground to declare Holy War as soon as the ice melts in Hsingwu's Passage, that's what you see,” he said, answering his own question.

“Probably so,” Samyl agreed, his own expression turning rather more serious. “On the other hand, if they weren't using those pretexts, you know they'd have found others. It's the nature of the beast.”

“Krakens do tend to attack when they smell blood, don't they?” Hauwerd said bitterly.

“Yes, they do,” Samyl sighed. “On the other hand, there's not very much we can do about that, aside from seeing what the power of prayer can accomplish. Which is why I'm looking at rather more immediate concerns.”

“Duchairn?”

“Exactly.” Samyl nodded heavily. “I don't know exactly what's been going on inside that man, Hauwerd, but I'm strongly inclined to believe we're seeing a genuine regeneration on his part. Which, of course, puts him in a position of deadly danger, that close to Clyntahn. The last thing Clyntahn can afford is a man who takes the
Writ
seriously sitting there in the middle of the Group of Four.”

“Actually,” Hauwerd said seriously, “that could be Duchairn's best protection. Clyntahn's constitutionally incapable of taking the faith of anyone who doesn't agree with him seriously. Or, rather, taking anyone who doesn't agree with him as a serious threat if he's motivated by genuine faith.”

“No? Then what about Duchairn's warning?”

“Zhaspahr Clyntahn's not worried about us because of our
faith
, Samyl. He's worried about us because we represent a threat to his
powerbase
. And,” Hauwerd added unhappily, “because he thinks we may make a splendid diversion.”

“Exactly,” Samyl said again.

He'd been more than a little surprised by Duchairn's warning. The Treasurer General had taken the risk of speaking to him personally, and despite Wylsynn's own efforts to speak in diplomatic circumlocutions, Duchairn had come straight to the point with devastating frankness.

“Clyntahn has to have someone inside the Circle, Samyl,” his brother said now, his voice tense.

“We've been operating for a long time,” Samyl replied. “There are any number of other ways we might have given ourselves away.”

“Of course there are other ways we
might
have given ourselves away,” Hauwerd said impatiently. “But that's not what happened, and you know it as well as I do. If Duchairn is right, Clyntahn is only waiting until the most opportune moment from his perspective. And he wouldn't be waiting unless he was confident he knew everything we're doing, knew we weren't going to suddenly disappear before he's ready to pounce. And the only way he can know that is that he has someone on the inside telling him about our deliberations, our plans. And since we haven't added anyone new, it has to be someone who was already there.”

Samyl's mouth had tightened as his brother laid out his devastating analysis. It wouldn't have bothered him as much if he hadn't come to exactly the same conclusions himself.

“Unfortunately, I don't have any idea who that ‘someone' might be,” he pointed out. “Do you?”

“If I did, you'd be the first to know. Or possibly,” Hauwerd showed his teeth in a most unpriestly smile, “the second.”

“You really need to forget the fact that you used to be a Temple Guardsman,” Samyl told him. “Direct action isn't always the best option. Although, in this case, I have to admit I'd be sorely tempted, myself.”

“All well and good. But since we don't know who it is, what do we do?”

“I don't know,” Samyl admitted. “All I do know is that we've spent too long, committed too much of ourselves to this task, to simply cut and run. I'm not prepared to abandon God's Church to men like Clyntahn and Trynair, Hauwerd. If I have to die, there are far worse causes.”

“No doubt. But there are also far better deaths,” Hauwerd said grimly as he recalled Erayk Dynnys' fate.

“Yes, there are. Unfortunately, we've both just agreed Clyntahn wouldn't be giving us this much rope if he didn't have someone inside. He's watching us, and there's no way we can give all the members of the Circle warning without warning Clyntahn's spy, as well. Which means Clyntahn will know anything we do if we try to alert the others.”

“Don't we still owe them that warning, whatever might happen?” Hauwerd's expression was troubled, and Samyl nodded.

“Of course we do. We just can't give it to them, anyway.”

“So what
can
we do?”

“I've already started doing what I can,” Samyl said. “I'm getting as many as possible of our junior members out of Zion on one pretext or another. It's taking some ingenuity to manufacture enough ‘routine missions' for me to get them sent away with winter coming on, but I've already gotten over a dozen of our bishops and upper-priests out of the city. And on missions that are going to
keep
them out of the city until after snowfall. I don't know if I can come up with something to get any of the archbishops out without arousing Clyntahn's suspicions and causing him to strike sooner. Cahnyr is about the only exception to that, since he's just about due for his winter pastoral visit to Glacierheart. But as long as you and I are still here, Clyntahn should feel fairly confident that he can put his hand on us any time he chooses.”

“Somehow, that fails to inspire me with a great deal of personal reassurance,” Hauwerd observed dryly.

“I know.” Samyl smiled at his brother, knowing Hauwerd could see the love in his eyes. “I'm sorry I got you into this.”

“Nonsense. Making ourselves a pain in the arse to people like Clyntahn and Trynair has been part of the family business for as long as I can remember. In fact, it's been a Wylsynn speciality since the Creation itself.”

Hauwerd's tone had shifted very slightly, and he arched an eyebrow at his brother.

“I know,” Samyl replied after a moment.

“Do you think—?”

“No.” Samyl shook his head firmly.

“Samyl, if we don't use the key now, when
can
we use it?”

“The key was never meant for use against those within the Church,” Samyl replied. “Not only that, but it's a weapon of last resort, and it can only be used once. Schueler made that crystal clear. And do you truly think Cayleb and Charis have crossed the threshold he set yet?”

“Of course not,” Hauwerd said. “We've agreed on that from the outset. But this schism is getting deeper and deeper, Samyl. It's only too likely that it will slide over into genuine heresy sooner or later, whatever Staynair or Cayleb want, if Clyntahn keeps driving this way. And if worse comes to worst for the Circle, if there's no one left to
stop
him . . .”

He let his voice trail off, and Samyl nodded somberly.

“I know,” he said. “I know. But that's one reason Paityr is in Charis, Hauwerd.”

Hauwerd sat gazing at him for several seconds, then sighed heavily.

“There are times I wish we'd been born into another family,” he said with a lopsided smile.

“So do I . . . sometimes,” Samyl agreed. “Unfortunately, we weren't. It's why the rest of the vicarate is so damned fond of us in the first place.”

Hauwerd chuckled. Then he shook his head.

“You know, I was glad from the outset that Paityr stayed in Charis, but I hadn't thought about it in terms of the key.”

“That's because I never told you I'd given it to him,” Samyl said. “Not that I ever really expected it to come to this when I helped Clyntahn ‘arrange' his assignment there. In fact, I can't honestly say that I saw
any
of this coming when he first went to Tellesberg, but God always has worked in mysterious ways. This must have been what He had in mind . . . and at least Paityr's out of Clyntahn's reach at the moment.”

“And pray God he stays there,” Hauwerd said softly. He himself had never produced children, and as he considered what someone like Clyntahn might well do to the families of his enemies in the vicarate, he was profoundly grateful for that fact.

“I'm sending word to Lyzbet through Ahnzhelyk,” Samyl said quietly. “I'm telling her to stay home, and keep the other children with her, instead of bringing them to Zion this winter.”

“You think Clyntahn won't be watching them?”

“I know Clyntahn
will
be watching them.” Samyl's voice was grim. “But I know he had to be watching Adorai Dynnys and her boys, too, and Ahnzhelyk's arrangements got them out. I think she can do the same for us. I pray so, at any rate.”

“You'll send them to Charis?”

“Where else can they find anything remotely like safety?”

“No place I can think of,” Hauwerd admitted.

“Obviously, I'll also be warning her to make her own arrangements,” Samyl continued, “although, frankly, I'd be astonished to discover that she hasn't already given some thought to that. She's not the sort to desert a sinking ship prematurely, but she definitely
is
the sort to prepare her escape route ahead of time, God bless her!”

“Amen,” Hauwerd agreed with a quirky smile.

“And,” Samyl said, looking into his brother's eyes once again, “I'm going to send her another letter. This one for Paityr . . . just in case.”

The cool breeze blowing in off Lake Erdan plucked at Irys Daykyn's hair like playful fingers. Evening was setting in across the enormous lake, and she enjoyed the familiar sight of a rippling sheet of water. Yet whatever else it might be, the lake wasn't Manchyr Bay. She missed the surf, the smell of salt, the smell of tidal marshes, the sense of the colliding life of land and sea across the hard-packed sand of the tide line and the softer, looser sand of the dunes.

And she missed her father.

She stood on the battlemented wall of King Zhames II's palace on its rocky hill above the city of Talkyra. It was both a cruder and an older palace than her father's palace in Manchyr. Despite its size, Delferahk had never been as rich a realm as Corisande, and Zhames' family had tended to rely rather more heavily upon the iron fist to maintain its authority. The occasional restiveness that technique had provoked had required a palace that was still a castle, a fortress which could be defended at need. Although both the king and Queen Hailyn assured her that those days were long past now.

But I thought that about Father, too
, she thought, and brushed away a tear with one angry hand.
“Never let them see you cry.” I remember you telling me that, Father. I remember
everything.

Her hands settled on the hard, weathered stone of the battlements and tightened until her knuckles stood out whitely. She wondered, looking back, if her father had somehow known this was coming. If that was the true reason he'd gotten her and Daivyn out of Corisande. She hoped not. She hoped he'd been truthful with her in the last conversation they would ever have. But whatever he'd been thinking, whatever his final motive, he
had
gotten them out, and one day Cayleb and Sharleyan of Charis would discover just how costly that was going to prove.