Of course, the temptation to smile faded, if that ever happens, it’s probably going to mean Thirsk is dead. I never thought that would be a good idea, and judging from his conversation with Maik, it would be an even worse idea now! Besides, I like that man … and his family. And it’s about goddamned time I got to keep someone alive instead of killing them for a change!
.II.
City of Zion,
The Temple Lands.
“I don’t think you should go, Krys.” Alahnah Bahrns shook her head without ever looking up from her sketchpad, but her expression was worried. “Things are getting so … crazy. There’s no telling what might happen!”
“Someone has to go,” Krystahl Bahrns said stubbornly. “You’re right—things are getting crazy, and somebody has to do something about it!”
Alahnah looked up from the hat design she’d been sketching, and her brown eyes were somber. She looked across the table at her cousin and tapped the tabletop with the point of her pencil.
“Maybe somebody has to do something,” the words came out in time with the tapping, “but it doesn’t have to be you, and Uncle Gahstahn’s already worried about you. Don’t you dare go and make it worse!”
“I know Daddy’s worried, and I don’t like it. But he knows as well as I do that Mother Church needs all her sons and daughters to stand up for what’s right. He taught us that, Alahnah!”
Her eyes held Alahnah’s until the other woman was forced to nod. Gahstahn Bahrns had become Alahnah’s second father after his younger brother, her own fisherman father, drowned in a Lake Pei gale. And he had, indeed, taught both his niece and his own daughter the devotion Mother Church and the Archangels deserved from all of their children. But that had been before the world went mad, and now was not the time to be drawing that madness’ attention to oneself.
“Yes, he did, but you’re talking about criticizing the Inquisition, Krystahl. That’s never a good idea, and it’s a lot worse one right now.”
“We’re not talking about criticizing the Inquisition,” her cousin replied. “We’re talking about asking for a little … moderation. And we’re going to be just as respectful as we possibly can in our petition. And Langhorne himself said in the Holy Writ that any of God’s children always have the right to petition Mother Church so long as they do so respectfully and reverently.”
Alahnah bit her lip and looked back down at her sketch, smoothing one of the lines with the ball of her thumb to buy time while she considered what to say next. It felt odd to be the voice of caution, since Krystahl was five years older than she was and had always been the sober, sensible one when they were girls. But she also cared about things—she cared a lot—and once she had the bit between her teeth where that passion for justice was concerned she was hard to stop.
But someone needed to talk some sense into her. Bédard knew Alahnah agreed that “moderation” was in short supply in Zion these days. But that was the entire point. The Inquisition had grown progressively sterner as the Jihad wore on, and over the past few months some of its agents inquisitor had started making sure their arrests were widely publicized. In fact, she thought grimly, they were deliberately making examples in an effort to quell any public discontent with the course of the Jihad, and Langhorne help anyone who sounded as if he blamed the Grand Inquisitor—or any other member of the vicarate—for how badly things were going.
And then there were those whispered rumors about the arrests that weren’t made public. About people who just … disappeared.
And that dreadful Fist of God isn’t making things one bit better, she thought fretfully. What do those people think they’re doing?! I don’t approve of everything that’s happening any more than Krys does, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to go around murdering consecrated priests and even vicars! No wonder the Inquisition’s getting so strict. I would too if I were the one who’s supposed to catch those terrorists!
“Krys,” she said finally, “you’re right about what Langhorne said. But he never said a Jihad wouldn’t change things! With everything that’s going on, with how bad things are in Siddarmark if even half the reports are true,” her lip quivered briefly in remembered pain, but she made her gaze hold her cousin’s steadily, “don’t you think the Inquisition needs to be stricter? Needs to stay on top of the sorts of rumors and accusations that support the heretics?”
“Last five-day, they arrested Sharyn Lywkys,” Krystahl said quietly, and Alahnah inhaled sharply.
Sharyn Lywkys? That was … that was ridiculous! She and Krystahl had gone to school with Sharyn, they’d been friends since childhood. And if there was a single person in Zion who was more devout, more dedicated to God and the Archangels, than Sharyn, Alahnah didn’t know who it could possibly be.
“It has to be a mistake. I mean, it just has to be!”
“That’s my entire point. Lots of ‘mistakes’ seem to be getting made, and people are getting hurt. Innocent people.”
“Well, what did they tell Madam Lywkys after Sharyn was arrested?”
“Nothing.” Krystahl’s expression was grim, her hazel eyes dark.
“Nothing?!”
“She went to the parish office and asked about Sharyn, but the local agents inquisitor said they didn’t know anything about it. They promised they’d find out where she was, why she’d been arrested. But they haven’t yet, and her mother’s been back to the office twice since then. The last time she was there one of the lay brother agents inquisitor told her very quietly—she says he looked like he was afraid someone might overhear him—that she should go home and wait without making trouble that could have … consequences.”
Alahnah swallowed hard. She’d heard the rumors that people were simply disappearing, but she knew now she hadn’t truly believed them. Not until this very moment. But as she looked into her cousin’s eyes, she knew it was true … and that was wrong. The Writ required the Inquisition to at least tell the family of anyone it took into custody where he or she was and why they’d been arrested, no matter what that person might have been accused of doing.
“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted after a long, tense moment. “But if they could arrest someone like Sharyn—if they could make that kind of mistake—then they could arrest you, too, Krys!”
“I haven’t done anything against the Writ, and I’m not going to,” Krystahl fired back, her head tilted at a stubborn angle Alahnah knew only too well. “Sebahstean and I checked Scripture very carefully before we decided to organize the petition drive. We’ve fulfilled every requirement, and it’s not like we’re going to be issuing any demands or anything! Besides, everyone says Vicar Rhobair’s a good man. Down at the shelters, they’re starting to call him ‘Saint Rhobair,’ for goodness sake! He won’t let anything bad happen to us if we only ask him reverently and respectfully to … to look into what’s been happening.”