Silence lingered for a moment, and then the seijin cleared his throat.
“We’ve heard some fairly incredible rumors about what happened here in Zion after they were arrested. We’re inclined to think there has to be at least some truth to them, but as to how much—?” He shook his head.
“If they’re the same ones I’ve been hearing, ‘incredible’ is putting it mildly,” Mahkbyth told him.
“Tell me what you’ve heard, and I’ll tell you what I’ve heard,” Murphai invited.
“Well, for starters—”
* * *
In fact, Mahkbyth’s version of events was seriously inaccurate, Murphai decided. Or, rather, incomplete. He had the most essential part of it straight, but exactly how everyone inside St. Thyrmyn Prison had died was another matter. Murphai listened gravely, nodding occasionally, then inhaled deeply at the end.
“Yes, they’re the same rumors,” he said then. “I can assure you, however, that it wasn’t Dialydd Mab or any of the other seijins marching through the prison dispensing justice. Not because we wouldn’t like to, you understand, but unless we’re prepared to confront the Inquisition openly here on the streets of Zion, we can’t be quite that … proactive. And I can also assure you it wasn’t Grimaldi attacking the Inquisition in Shan-wei’s name, either. Although,” he conceded thoughtfully, “that’s actually not a bad move on Rayno’s part.”
“So you’re pretty sure he’s the one behind that particular story?”
“I can’t say for certain, but it has the right smell to be something of his. And it’s more subtle than Clyntahn tends to be.” Murphai stroked his beard thoughtfully. “The first line of defense is to say nothing and deny that anything happened for as long as they possibly can. The second line of defense is to strengthen their own people’s spines by spreading the story among the Inquisition’s own that it was a demonic attack by Grimaldi against the champions of Mother Church. And they know damned well that version of it will ‘leak’ no matter how hard they stress the need to keep it confidential. Even inquisitors are human, and human tongues wag when you hand their owners a juicy enough story. And I’m fairly sure the third line of defense—and after the ‘truth’ about Grimaldi’s involvement’s had time to leak out and spread nicely—will be to inform all of Mother Church’s children here in Zion that the Inquisition kept what happened secret while it investigated thoroughly. After all, who better to determine the truth of a demonic act than the guardians of the Holy Writ?”
“I’m sure you’re right, but do you really think he’s going to be able to sell that one?” Mahkbyth asked skeptically.
“You’ve lived in Zion longer than I have,” Murphai pointed out. “How do you think the average Zionite would react?”
Mahkbyth frowned thoughtfully for several seconds. Then the frown segued into a grimace.
“You’re right,” he sighed. “Those who’re already inclined to doubt anything that comes out of Clyntahn’s mouth won’t believe it for a moment. There are more of those than there used to be, too, but they’re still a minority. And for those who don’t disbelieve anything simply because he said it, there’s going to be a real need to have some sort of explanation, especially with all the bad news leaking out in those mysterious broadsheets.” He eyed Murphai speculatively. “In fact, I’m a little curious about why they haven’t already reported the entire mystery. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Seijin Murphai?”
“Me?” Murphai looked back innocently. “I haven’t been in Zion since the last time you and I spoke, Ahrloh.”
“That’s not exactly an answer,” Mahkbyth observed. “On the other hand, it’s probably as close to one as I’m going to get, isn’t it?”
“Probably,” Murphai agreed. “On the other hand, if I were the one posting those—which, of course, I’m not—I’d probably wait to spread the truth until I knew what the truth was. My understanding is that they’ve been so effective in large part because they’ve never contained anything that wasn’t both true and accurate.” The seijin shrugged. “With something as … fantastic as this, I’d think they’d need to be very sure of their facts—and probably of how the Inquisition plans on spinning things once the story comes out. For that matter, I wouldn’t be surprised—although you understand, of course, that I can’t say for certain—if whoever makes the call on their content isn’t experiencing the occasional mild glow of enjoyment while they think about how … unhappy Clyntahn and Rayno probably are while they wonder when it’s going to hit the broadsheets. I imagine it’s giving those two the odd sleepless night, don’t you?”
Mahkbyth snorted a harsh chuckle of agreement. But then he stopped chuckling and stared out the shop windows into the street. Days were still short in Zion in May, even when the weather didn’t decide to roll in on the city, and the western side of the square was already deep in shadow.
“Zhak will be back with my fish and chips soon,” he said. “He may be an informant for the Inquisition, but he’s a hard worker. Should I assume you’ll be dropping by the house tonight in your usual inconspicuous fashion to continue this conversation?”
“Probably,” Murphai said again. He turned casually to look out the windows at Mahkbyth’s side, alert for Myllyr’s return. “In the meantime, though, Arbalest didn’t send me just to check in with you. She’s got a mission for you.”
“She does?” A sudden, bright light glowed in his blue eyes. “Rayno? Can I finally go after that sick son-of-a-bitch?!”
“No, not Rayno.” Murphai shook his head regretfully.
“With all due respect, Arbalest needs to let us take him down,” Mahkbyth said passionately. “There’s nothing we could do that would hurt Clyntahn worse—aside from killing the fat bastard himself—and we need to send a message to the entire Inquisition. They may be keeping a lid on what happened inside St. Thyrmyn, but every agent inquisitor, from the newest lay brother on the streets to the borough bishops inquisitor, knows they took two of us alive. That’s done a lot to undermine the … inevitability we’d acquired in their eyes.”
“I can understand that, but it’s really not the first time you’ve lost people,” Murphai replied. “Are you sure you’re not being influenced by the fact that this is so personal for you? You knew Bracelet, and Castanet may not have known who Barcor was, but she knew Ahrloh Mahkbyth.”
“Of course it’s personal. It’s all personal, or I’d never have joined Helm Cleaver in the first place! That doesn’t make me wrong, though. Tell Arbalest I need to take Rayno down and pin a note to his cassock telling the entire Inquisition it’s retaliation—and justice—for what he did to two of our sisters. Let the fucking Inquisition deal with that!”
“I’d love to see it,” Murphai said frankly. “Unfortunately, I think Arbalest is right. We still need him where he is. It may not seem like it, but he’s actually a moderating influence. God only knows what Clyntahn would do if we took him off the board, but I’m willing to bet it would be a bloodbath.” The seijin’s lips twisted. “In some ways, that might not be a bad thing from the perspective of defeating the Group of Four. If he orders a purge as … promiscuous as the one he’d demand if the Fist of God eliminates Rayno—especially without Rayno to warn him against overreacting—it would have to further undermine the Inquisition’s legitimacy in the eyes of almost all Zionites. But think of the number of other Bracelets and Castanets we’d create along the way.”