.VI.
Nimue’s Cave,
Mountains of Light,
The Temple Lands.
“You’re joking.”
Nahrmahn seemed oddly put out, Merlin reflected.
“No, we aren’t. You’ve seen the imagery yourself. For that matter, I know damned well you were listening in while he had the conversation.”
“Well … yes,” the deceased little prince admitted.
“Then what seems to be the problem?” Merlin asked suspiciously, and Nynian snorted.
Merlin looked across at her. The two of them sat in comfortable chairs in Nimue’s Cave with glasses of forty-five-year Glynfych—a parting gift from Ahrloh Mahkbyth—in front of them, and now she shook her head at him.
“His professional pride’s offended,” she explained, and smiled affectionately at Nahrmahn’s avatar. “That’s it, isn’t it, Nahrmahn? You never saw this coming, and that offends you.”
“I probably wouldn’t choose the verb ‘offend,’” he replied. “I do feel a trifle … irritated, however.”
“Oh, for the love of—!” Merlin shook his head, torn between amusement and irritation of his own. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, Nynian never saw this coming, either!”
“Do you really want to tick off both of us?” Nynian inquired with a commendably straight face only slightly undermined by the twinkle in her eye.
“No, I want both of you giving us your best analysis,” Merlin said.
“Second the motion,” Cayleb threw in from Siddar City.
“As do I,” Maikel Staynair added. “And unlike Nahrmahn, I was unable to watch the conversation as it happened. Perhaps you could go over the high points for those of us not already familiar with them? Because I have to agree with Nahrmahn that the whole business seems flatly impossible!”
“Yes,” Paityr Wylsynn said, and his voice was far softer than the archbishop’s, almost husky. “Please. I was otherwise occupied at the time, myself. If I’d had any idea what Duchairn had to say, I would’ve made time to watch it! But I didn’t, and I can’t believe.… I mean, I want to believe, but.…”
“Believe me, I understand that, Paityr,” Nynian said gently. “He was your uncle, but he was my friend—my very dear friend. And now I know he died the way he did at least in part to protect me. And whatever qualms you may feel about being directly descended from Androcles Schueler, the ‘Stone of Schueler’ proves Phandys was telling us nothing but the truth. I don’t think he told us everything—for that matter, he told us he wasn’t telling us everything. But what he did tell us was the truth, and that means we can thank your Uncle Hauwerd for all of it.”
“And Rhobair Duchairn,” Nimue Chwaeriau said soberly from Manchyr Palace. She stood behind Irys as the princess and the Earl of Coris sat on a palace balcony, looking out over Manchyr Bay as the sun settled towards the horizon behind them. “I have to say I didn’t see that one coming, either.”
“I’m … less surprised than I might have been,” Sharleyan said slowly from Tellesberg. “If I’d ever suspected anything like this was possible, I’d have picked Duchairn as the one most likely to be behind it. It’s been obvious from his actions in Zion, especially his efforts to properly care for the poor and the destitute, that he’s had something like a genuine regeneration of his faith. In fact, I’d wondered how he’d avoided openly breaking with Clyntahn long since—how a man who obviously hated everything Clyntahn stood for with every fiber of his being could have continued to make one accommodation after another with him. I put it down to cowardice, in the end, and God knows he had ample proof that any rational human being should be terrified of Zhaspahr Clyntahn. But this … this puts a very different face on those ‘accommodations’ of his.”
“It does, indeed,” Merlin agreed, then turned slightly in his chair to face Paityr Wylsynn’s projected image squarely.
“The short version of it, Paityr, is that your uncle was a … more proactive fellow than your father in many ways. He absolutely supported your father’s candidacy for the Grand Inquisitorship, and he agreed a hundred percent with the need to collect the evidence your father would need to clean up the abuses and the corruption of the vicarate. But he also knew what really happened to Saint Evyrahard, and he was determined to keep that from happening to your father if he could. Unfortunately, according to Major Phandys, he also knew your father wouldn’t have approved of his efforts, so like a lot of younger brothers, he just … neglected to mention them to him.
“After Clyntahn won the election—or, rather, after Rayno cooked the vote to give him the election—your uncle continued quietly pursuing his efforts. I don’t know exactly what he hoped he might achieve by them, but remember that there was no Army of God, no Mighty Host, when he set out. The only real armed force in Zion—or anywhere else in the Temple Lands, if you come down to it—was the Temple Guard. I suspect he hoped he might eventually recruit a large enough cadre from its junior officers to actually let him convince your father a military coup against Clyntahn and the Inquisition could succeed.”
“I think that’s exactly what he hoped,” Nynian murmured, her eyes soft with affectionate memory. “Of course, Samyl never would’ve agreed to anything of the sort. You know what he was like, Paityr!”
“Yes.” Paityr had to stop and clear his throat. “Yes,” he said then, more strongly. “I do. But I also know how … convincing Uncle Hauwerd could be. I’m not prepared to say he couldn’t have brought Father around to it in the end.”
“Well, if anyone in the world could have, it would’ve been Hauwerd,” Nynian conceded, then she chuckled. “And if he couldn’t convince Samyl, I wouldn’t have been one bit surprised to see him stage the coup on his own and then offer your father a fait accompli!”
“Whatever he might have done under other circumstances,” Merlin continued, “when he and your father realized Clyntahn intended to purge them and all their friends, he must have been bitterly tempted to try a coup then. But he wasn’t ready, and he refused to ask the officers and men who’d given him their allegiance to throw away their lives in a vain effort to save his and his friends’. I think, from some of the things Phandys said—and, even more, from the way he said them—that he had a hard time keeping them from trying, anyway.”
He shook his head, his eyes distant, then refocused on Paityr.
“Phandys had a hard time getting out the truth about how he died. He confirmed the rumor that your uncle killed your father himself rather than permit him to be taken for the Question and the Punishment.” Anguish twisted Paityr’s face, but it was anguish for the decision his uncle had been forced to make, not condemnation, and he nodded. “And Phandys also confirmed that he was the one who actually killed your uncle. In fact, he was also the one who denounced your father and your uncle to Zhaphar Kahrnaikys. He was actually the one who inserted the passage request that sent Kahrnaikys after your uncle into the logbook to begin with.” Paityr stared at him, his face white. “It was the best way your uncle could think of to divert any possible suspicion from Phandys … and Phandys was your uncle’s guarantee that he’d never be put to the Question. Could never be made to tell anyone about the names on that list. Or about anyone else he suspected of … anti-Inquisition activities.”