Kharmych sat back in his chair, his thunderous expression one of mingled anger, frustration, and surprise, and Fern hid a tart smile.
Didn’t see that one coming either, did you, Father? he thought. Wouldn’t have, either, if Shain and I hadn’t worked on him for a couple of hours first! Probably wouldn’t have brought him around in the end, anyway, if he realized Thirsk’s the one who wrote that analysis he just delivered instead of Shain! Or if most of the wealth in Thorast wasn’t in the west, closer to Erekston and Lake Sheryl, for that matter. Aside from Shandyr the only things eastern Thorast has are farmers and forests, and those don’t pay much in the way of taxes. But he did come through nicely in the end. So now what do you do?
The first councilor kept his eyes on Kharmych, but his attention was actually focused on Lainyr. The intendant was probably a better barometer of Zhaspahr Clyntahn’s attitude, but Lainyr would offer a far better measure of the Group of Four’s actual policy.
“Your Grace,” the intendant said, rallying and leaning forward once more, “while I know you speak from the heart, surely—”
“A moment, Ahbsahlahn,” Lainyr said.
The bishop executor’s expression was stony, his eyes hard, but he placed a restraining hand on Kharmych’s arm and inclined his head ever so slightly in Fern’s direction.
“Your Grace, I see you and your colleagues have, indeed, thought these issues through.” He showed his teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “While I might … differ with certain of your conclusions, Dohlar is your Kingdom. The spiritual welfare of King Rahnyld’s subjects is the duty of Archbishop Trumahn, Father Ahbsahlahn, and myself, but the burden of their secular welfare rests rightfully upon the King’s shoulders and in your hands, as his servants. Certainly no one could fault the energy and devotion Dohlar’s brought to the Jihad from the very beginning. If it seemed in any way that I’d suggested differently, I assure you that was never my intention. If you, as the secular authorities here in Dohlar, are satisfied with General Rychtyr’s strategy, then certainly I am! It was never a question of his devotion to God or Mother Church. I believe Sir Clyftyn may well have a point about his mounting fatigue, and as one of his spiritual shepherds, I beg you to keep watch upon him. Don’t drive him beyond his breaking point or lay burdens upon him which may be too heavy for his weary shoulders. Beyond that admonition, I leave the conduct of the battle against the heretics here in Dohlar in your capable hands.”
Well, someone in Zion’s developing a case of nerves, Fern thought. I wonder who? It’s got the feel of Trynair’s touch, but Clyntahn must be more … anxious than I’d thought, too. Maybe even he can figure out how badly he got his fingers burned here in Dohlar with that whole business with Thirsk’s family?
Whatever it was, the decision not to push if King Rahnyld’s ministers declined to relieve Rychtyr had clearly come from Zion, not from Archbishop Trumahn or from Lainyr. That was interesting. In fact, that was very interesting.
They’re afraid we’ll become another Desnair and they obviously need us more than they needed the Desnairians. But this goes farther than that. We’re in deep trouble, but we’re not exactly on the brink of collapse yet. But I have to wonder about this … reasonableness on Clyntahn’s part. We’re not simply anchoring their southern flank right now, we’re also a lot closer to Zion and the Temple Lands—for that matter, to the Mighty Host!—than Desnair. That give them a bigger stick in our case, so, logically, they should be less concerned about us deciding to … opt out of the Jihad. And if they’re worried about I anyway, why the velvet glove? Where are Clyntahn’s decrees and demands? The command that we recall Rychtyr … and the veiled—and not so veiled—threats like the ones he used against Thirsk if we decided to be obstinate about it? Could he be becoming less confident about the Inquisition’s power here in Dohlar? Or is there something else in play? Something about this summer’s campaign they haven’t told us about?
“Your Eminence,” he said out loud, “I never thought for a moment that you questioned Sir Fahstyr’s courage or devotion.” He shook his head with a smile. “No one who knows him could question either of those! But it’s certainly fair for others, especially friends like Sir Clyftyn, to worry about the strain of the burden he’s carried for so long. The fact that he expressed those worries to you, and that you—as the acting shepherd of the entire archbishopric—brought them in turn to us speaks well for the regard in which Sir Fahstyr is held by all those who know him.”
The first councilor of Dohlar smiled again, bending his head in a graceful nod of thanks.
“I assure you, Your Eminence,” he continued, “we’ll be mindful of both the burdens we ask him to bear and of the responsibility we bear, as you’ve just reminded us, for the secular welfare of all of King Rahnyld’s subjects.”
.V.
Protector’s Palace,
Siddar City,
Republic of Siddarmark;
and
Claw Island,
Sea of Harchong.
“Congratulations, Cayleb!” Greyghor Stohnar, Lord Protector of the Republic of Siddarmark, extended his hand with a huge smile as Cayleb Ahrmahk entered the conference room with Aivah Pahrsahn at his side and Merlin Athrawes at his heels. “I’ve just been reading the copy of Baron Sarmouth’s dispatches you forwarded to us. We don’t use decadent things like patents of nobility here in the Republic, of course, but if we did, I’d say that man deserves promotion to some title way beyond a mere baron!”
“Yes, he has done rather well by us, hasn’t he?” Cayleb responded, clasping the Lord Protector’s forearm firmly. “On the other hand, I’m not too sure he’d actually like being known as ‘Earl Shipworm,’ you know!”