“But it’s going to be a different sort of object lesson, too, and no ruler who’s smarter than a rock is going to be able to miss its point. Without equivalent technology, no realm can survive against anyone who adopts it, and no one out there—from Mahrys of Desnair, to Rahnyld of Dohlar, to Emperor Waisu’s bureaucrats—hell, to that idiot Zhames in Delferahk!—is going to decide to trust that none of his enemies will build it. For that matter, they’ll know damned well we’re going to—that we already have—and even Greyghor, here in Siddarmark, is going to have to worry about the possibility that some perfectly legitimate dispute will someday arise between the Republic and us.
“So that’s what the King Haarahlds are, Nynian,” the Emperor of Charis said levelly, meeting her eyes across the study. “They’ll do the job at Gorath—that’s for damn sure—but just like you said, so would the Cities. They’re not Earl Sharpfield’s doorknockers; they’re Merlin’s, and the ‘door’ he has in mind is a hell of a lot more important than Gorath.”
.IX.
Rock Coast Keep,
Duchy of Rock Coast,
Kingdom of Chisholm;
and
Manchyr Palace,
City of Manchyr,
Princedom of Corisande,
Empire of Charis.
“With all due respect, Father,” Zhasyn Seafarer, the Duke of Rock Coast, said sharply, “I’m getting pretty tired of waiting for Father Zhordyn to get off the tenth-mark! We need to know exactly when—or, for that matter, Schueler help us, if—Lady Swayle’s going to agree to our strategy!” He glowered, dark eyes fiery. “I thought all of that had already been agreed, frankly. Black Horse and I have certainly been proceeding on that basis, and we’ve got firm pledges of loyalty from almost all the key men here in our own duchies. And now we can’t get a firm commitment out of her?” His expression was not a happy one. “She’s the one who contacted us—and she did it through Father Zhordyn. If she’s changed her mind, we need to know it. And if she hasn’t changed her mind, we need to know that, too!”
“I realize you need better communications, Your Grace.” Father Sedryk Mahrtynsyn raised a placating hand. “And I lnow it’s impossible to make concrete plans without knowing what your allies have in mind. But Father Zhordyn is a passionate and loyal son of Mother Church, just as Countess Swayle is a loyal daughter. Surely there’s no reason to fear their resolution has flagged!”
“It’s not their ‘resolution’ I’m concerned about, Father!”
The duke erupted from his chair and strode to the window, glaring out into the gray afternoon’s chill, windy rain while he worked to get his temper back under control. A spray of sleet rattled against the glass, and he turned back to the priest.
“What I’m concerned about is their willingness to do anything,” he said in a rather calmer tone. “Well, that and the fact that at this point we don’t really know what she’s been able to arrange—or not arrange—with Holy Tree or how those contacts of hers with Earl Mandigora have gone. If he’s willing to come in with us, he’d give Dragon Hill a secure northern frontier, and between them he, Dragon Hill, and Holy Tree could probably squeeze Greentree into joining us as well … or neutralize him, if he refuses.”
He scowled in frustration and walked across to the new model-cast iron stove heating his office. He opened the door, tossed in a couple of lumps of coal, and stalked back to the window.
“I think you’ll agree it’s pretty important to know whether or not we can count on support that far east,” he growled, looking back out into the rain. “And Dragon Hill’s not saying squat to me! He’s made it pretty clear he thinks I’m ‘overly enthusiastic,’ but if Rebkah and Father Zhordyn can get a firm commitment out of him, that would be huge. And if they can convince Mandigora and Holy Tree to do the same thing—and if I can bring in Mountain Heart and Lantern Walk—we’d effectively control all of the southwest outside the Crown Desmene. That’s more than a quarter of the entire Kingdom! There’s an enormous difference between that and what Black Horse and I can accomplish on our own. But if they won’t even tell us what they’re doing—or what they’re willing to do—Pait and I can’t make any definitive plans of our own, and it won’t be very many more five-days before White Crag and Kahlyns start counting noses on the troops to send to the mainland. When they send them off, we’ll have a window—a narrow one, only a few months wide, at the outside—before that sorry bastard Kahlyns trains up an entire fresh army of replacements. That means we have to be ready to act as soon as that window opens. And for that to happen, we have to make plans now based on what our ‘allies’ are or aren’t willing to do. It’s that simple, Father.”
Mahrtynsyn nodded, and not just to calm the other man down. There were times Zhasyn Seafarer could act like a petulant teenager who wanted his way now, and damn the consequences. This wasn’t one of those times, however, and the Schuelerite shared his frustration to the full.
Which didn’t keep him from understanding why Rebkah Rahskail, the Dowager Countess of Swayle, and Father Zhordyn Rydach, her confessor, were hesitant to give Rock Coast the firm commitments he wanted. And there were aspects of the kind of communication Rock Coast was demanding which made him distinctly nervous, as well. But whatever his own concerns, and however understandable their hesitation, the duke had it exactly right. The problem was what Mahrtynsyn did about it.
And whatever anyone else—including Zhasyn Seafarer—might think, it was his job to make this work. His superiors back in Zion had been very clear about that, and they wouldn’t be very happy with him if he didn’t make it work.
Of course, if I don’t, I doubt the Archbishop and the Grand Inquisitor will have the opportunity to express their displeasure to me. He grimaced mentally. Sharleyan and her executioners will probably make sure of that.
At forty-seven—although he looked considerably younger—Sedryk Mahrtynsyn had served the Inquisition for almost thirty years. His youthful appearance could have been a handicap in a parish priest, who needed to project an aura of mature wisdom and judgment. It had, however, served him well as a young agent inquisitor who’d specialized in infiltrating suspect groups. He also had fair hair, blue eyes, and a guileless face—one which habitually wore an expression of gentle, bemused surprise that was as deceiving (and useful) as his apparent youth. It had taken him years to perfect that mask, and by now displaying it was second nature to him. At the moment, however, it was notable mostly for its absence and the sharp intelligence behind those normally innocent blue eyes was focused and obvious as he frowned in thought.
He was willing to admit Rock Coast wasn’t the most patient and meticulous of conspirators. There were, in fact, sound reasons to keep him on a short leash, and in this instance it was scarcely surprising that his reputation for … impetuosity worried the countess and her confessor. But they were moving into the stage where zeal became a virtue, not a liability, and one of the reasons he’d been sent to Rock Coast Keep was to be Zhaspahr Clyntahn’s voice of caution in Rock Coast’s councils.