The Fall of Ossard (17 page)

A Clash of Faiths

Dawn saw Ossard a cold and bleak place. There was no gradual awakening, no rising sounds of bustle or rush to the markets, even the port lay still and the fishing fleet idle.

A slow wind laden with the bitter scent of burning oleander pushed through empty streets accompanied in Newbank by the last strains of Schoperde’s song. Overhead grey skies glowered.

Ossard was mourning.

Pedro spent the dawn fussing over Maria. He spoke little to me and kept his distance. It reminded me of his manner upon arrival into our home years ago and had little in common with the man I’d glimpsed last night. Watching him frustrated me. For a while I’d dared hope that we could change, that our marriage might somehow bloom, but now…

Finally, I asked, “Is something wrong?”

He ignored me.

I repeated the question.

He met my gaze. “What did you sing last night?”

“It’s a Flet song; the Song of Sorrow. I heard it being sung and it felt right to join in after what we’d seen.”

He shook his head with exasperation. “I can’t believe you sung it
after
what we’d seen!” he hissed. “It’s forbidden!”

His anger surprised me, but worse made Maria back away. She might not have seen us be close and loving, but she’d also rarely seen us argue.

I kept my voice soft and level, hoping to soothe her as she watched. “It’s just a song.”

Pedro shook his head, “It’s wrong, like the rituals and kidnappings!”

“No, it’s not.”

In a hard tone he hissed, “The Church calls it heresy!”

Maria began to wail.

Wondering of his time at the monastery, I whispered, “What ever did they do to you?”

A knock at the door silenced us. I turned to see to it, leaving him to hiss after me, “Witch!”

It was Jericho, Lord Liberigo’s assistant. “Lady Juvela, an Inquisitor has arrived. You, your husband, and your man-at-arms are required to attend a meeting in the council chamber - urgently.”

The news stunned me.

Jericho lingered and then added, “You need to come directly.”

I gathered my thoughts. “Of course.”

He nodded and left.

An Inquisitor?

My fear of being caught hadn’t even been earned. If I was a witch, where were my spells?

I had no power.

And Pedro certainly offered no comfort.

Last night I’d glimpsed a new life opening up. In that life we could have become the loving family of my almost-forgotten lotus-fuelled dreams. Now it seemed impossible.

Anger stirred within me.

Life…

What kind of a life did I have? I was stuck in a marriage based on a terrible crime with a damaged man who resented me.

I hated it!

My anger once stirred only began to fire. The few things that gave me any solace were Maria, my parents, and Sef.

I closed the door, cutting the view of an empty street and a city enslaved by fear.

Once upon a time I’d married Pedro because it would give me power, perhaps now was the time to start using it.

I walked out of the entry hall and back to him.

He looked up, his face cold.

I said, “Get ready, we’re going back to your father’s.”

“Why?”

“An Inquisitor has arrived. If you like, you can tell him I’m a witch.”

He gasped. “You
are
a witch!”

Maria sobbed.

My eyes narrowed. “Regardless, I’m sure he can find a way around the castings
your
master put on me, and then your own shameful secret will be out. If I burn at the stake at least I’ll have company.”

He could only stare at me as the colour drained from his face.

I reached forward and picked up Maria, my poor daughter trying to push me away. With her in my arms, despite her resistance, I growled at Pedro, “Get ready!”

Without a word he got up and headed upstairs.

One of the voices in my head roused itself from its silence. It was the strongest and only stirred to laugh. Behind that hard bark I could hear the crack and snap of flames and the cries of a horrified crowd.

A large crowd waited outside the Malnobla. The people of the city, scared and insecure, had come to see the newly arrived Inquisitor. Some waved branches of oleander while others clutched holy symbols such as the eight-pointed star of St Baimio. Many simply prayed.

We arrived in our own coach with Maria and Sef. Our daughter was to go straight into the care of Pedro’s mother while the three of us would head for the council chamber.

Each of us said an awkward goodbye to her in the entry hall; Pedro, because like all of us he loved her; Sef, because he hated having her taken out of his care; and me because I wondered if I’d be handed straight to the Inquisition and never get to see her again. At such thoughts the voices within me stirred in riled indignation.

They’d never let that happen!

I cursed them. They’d done nothing for me so far but bring me grief.

I picked up Maria and held her close. She sensed something was wrong, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak of it. I just thought of my love for her. Lost in that focus and oblivious to all else another voice whispered in my head, “I love you too, Mama.”

I opened my eyes to see hers locked on mine. Her gaze began to soften, and as I stood there certain we’d again touched minds, Pedro pulled her away.

He whispered, his voice apologetic, “We must be quick, they’re waiting.” His anger had faded.

Heinz Kurgar sat at the council table smiling in greeting. Beside him sat another guildsman, while four more stood behind him. I was shown to a seat, as was Sef, but Pedro, to his annoyance, was asked to stand.

About us also sat Lord Liberigo, the captain of the city guard, and the head of the Merchants’ Guild, while other lesser officials stood. The five remaining chairs were reserved for churchmen with three of them already taken by the priests and monk who’d sat with us yesterday. The arrangement left two empty seats for the Benefice and Inquisitor.

Pale and tired faces sat around that table. I guessed, like me, no one had slept well last night. Hopefully today’s proceedings would bring some reassurance, but I couldn’t help but think we’d only hear more unsettling information.

After a short wait, the door opened to reveal the Benefice. He entered wearing a smug grin and leading a tall man robed in black. That other man wore a matching skullcap embroidered in golden thread set in a repeating pattern. With a stern and long face, its length exaggerated by a neatly trimmed beard, his hair, once black, now shone through white. His appearance lent him a distinguished air, but it was also severe.

The voices in my head rose to hiss in anger, and for a moment the stink of smoke and burning flesh haunted me. I had to close my eyes and concentrate to take back my senses. The feeling left me shaken and even less prepared for the meeting.

Vassini led the man to their seats. All the while the Benefice glanced about the table challenging anyone to disrespect him now.

They arrived to stand before their chairs. One of the priests called, “All stand for the righteous, Inquisitor Anton and Benefice Vassini.”

Hesitantly, but led by Lord Liberigo, we did.

Benefice Vassini and the Inquisitor nodded in acknowledgement before taking their seats. That done we all followed.

Lord Liberigo cleared his throat. “Benefice Vassini, would you care to handle proceedings?”

The Benefice gave a wry smile. “To cope with this time of great crisis, something I might add foreseen by the Church, we have requested and received the services of the Holy Inquisition. I present to you Inquisitor Anton of the Expeditia Puritanica.

The man gave a curt nod, but didn’t speak.

The Benefice, a little flustered, continued, “Immediately after his arrival this morning we took Inquisitor Anton to the ritual site at his own request. He has already begun his investigation and convened this meeting, and thus I give him to you to speak.”

And all eyes went to the Inquisitor.

He seemed distant, as if he hadn’t been listening. Instead he sat there looking at the centre of the table as though staring at something only he could see.

Was he searching the celestial?

I forced myself to relax, my vision growing clearer as it jumped to a new level. Everything fell into shades of blue and black, the only exception being the flaring soul-lights of those who sat about me.

I looked to the same spot as the Inquisitor, and there it was; some kind of beast.

It hunkered down snarling and snapping. Jagged lines, something akin to horns and barbs, showed through its bright glare. With its every move it sent showers of black sparks spraying off of its horrid brilliance. It let out a deep and rumbling growl as it focussed its bitterness on the Inquisitor.

He showed no fear.

A straining sensation made my newfound perception falter and fall out of that world and back into ours.

In the real world, all those about the table still waited for him to speak, yet he made no effort.

Just as Benefice Vassini turned to prompt him, the Inquisitor’s eyes found focus and his hard voice rang out. “This city is doomed.” And after a deep pause he added, “The taint of many things haunts the streets of your city, a city that needs to be reborn to be saved. It is my grave duty to tell you that much birthing blood will flow before it may yet rise again.”

And silence followed.

“The agents of the Horned God walk here and do so almost freely. In their company are many who would smash the glory of Krienta. I can taste forbidden cults, cabalists, the wicked Sisterhood, and even the basest of magics, Green Witchery. This city is damned in many ways, but worst of all because it has chosen to be.”

He then turned to stare at me, and I knew that my truth was revealed. “How can you hope to save the city when you’re so blind to the problem and its enemies?”

Lord Liberigo and Benefice Vassini, both in their own ways responsible for the state of the city, sat stunned at the Inquisitor’s easy damning. Angered by such words, Lord Liberigo replied, “If those before you are so ignorant, why don’t
you
explain the problem and how to fix it? We need solutions, not theatrics!”

The Inquisitor, cold and calm, gave him his answer. “Only an army of butchers can clean this place.” Then he resumed his silence.

We joined him, stunned and mute.

At first I wondered if he was mad. Then the thought arose, cold and clammy, trying to lift itself out of a chill sea of stinking brine; what if his words were true?

A deep corruption
had
taken root in the city. Pedro had even said as much, it infesting the highest levels. As hideous as it sounded, perhaps we
did
need an army of butchers.

As I considered his words others recovered. Kurgar was the first and simply laughed. “You can’t be serious! The city is beset by nothing more than a gang of kidnappers, perhaps with links to some cult or other. We’re probably up against twenty men, not some dark army!”

“Silence!” The Inquisitor bellowed, and his voice roared backed by angels.

Thoughts of laughter died.

He began afresh. “I fight a war, a war to keep my people and my Church safe from corruption. While you consider yourself Heletian, of Krienta, or part of the Heletian League, you will listen to me
and
do what I say.

“Some of you believe that all that is happening in this incestuous city is the usual good business against an unfortunate backdrop of a little kidnapping. In truth, some of you wouldn’t care if the missing children were just being sold into slavery, and are only marginally more concerned that they’re being used to feed ritual magic.

“This is wrong, and I have come to correct your thinking.

“There are more factions sitting around this table than you know, and if we work together we can all get out of this what we need. There will be hard work ahead and much of it unpleasant, but you must believe me when I tell you that the situation is desperate.”

Lord Liberigo interrupted the Inquisitor. “I assure you that I take the threat seriously, but what is the threat, what is happening to our city?”