She wasn’t the only one of Madam Phonda’s ladies to flee the Temple Lands, and “Aivah” had quietly arranged comfortable livings for all of them. Those livings had meant none of them had to return to their previous careers, but Mahrlys had been different. She hadn’t come seeking simple safety; she’d come seeking a way to strike back at Clyntahn and the others, and if she still didn’t know about the Sisters of Saint Kohdy, she was as smart as she was beautiful. She’d quickly realized “Aivah” was deeply involved with the Reformist movement in Siddarmark, and it hadn’t taken her long to deduce that Ahnzhelyk must have been just as deeply involved in it in Zion without Mahrlys ever suspecting a thing. Coupled with her own bitter disillusionment about the Church—or the Group of Four, at least—that had been more than enough for her to volunteer to join Aivah’s efforts here in the capital.
She’d been very effective, too, especially after Aivah helped her establish herself in her old profession. Ahnzhelyk Phonda had never offered her guests in Zion anything so crude as simple prostitution. Her young ladies had been true companions, as well—highly decorative and skilled in the pleasures of the flesh, yes, but also intelligent, educated, and cultured, as accomplished in making witty conversation, critiquing the latest theatrical performance, discussing religion (in the days when that had been a safe topic), or enjoying a night at the opera, as they ever were in bed. It hadn’t taken someone who’d been tutored by Ahnzhelyk very long to establish herself as one of the most sought-after courtesans in Siddar City.
Once they’d identified Sahbahtyno, they’d moved Mahrlys into the Protector’s Arms. And once she’d been there for a few five-days, they’d arranged for Colonel Fhetukhav—a lonely widower, six years older than she, a logistics specialist on Daryus Parkair’s personal staff who’d come up through the Quartermaster’s Corps—to cross her orbit. Fhetukhav had been more than willing to play his part, especially after he set eyes on Mahrlys for the first time! And while he often took sensitive documents home to work on there, he was always scrupulous about securing them in the hotel’s strongroom on the two nights every five-day he spent with Mahrlys.
They were both intelligent, warmhearted people who believed deeply in what they were doing and why. Merlin hadn’t counted on it, but neither had he been surprised when their “cover” as lovers blossomed into a deep, genuine love for one another. He was happy for them, but he was even happier that Nynian—and Nahrmahn, who’d supported her strongly—had been right about Sahbahtyno. However careful he might have been to avoid any extended network that could be traced back to him, the temptation to spread his tendrils just a little wider had proved too much to resist when Nynian trolled Fhetukhav delicately under his nose. Especially given the fact that he’d long since realized that Charlz Ohbyrlyn, the Protector’s Arms’ senior night clerk, was an ardent Temple Loyalist. Ohbyrlyn had tried hard to conceal his personal fury at Greyghor Stohnar’s decision to ally the Republic with Charis, but Sahbahtyno was very, very good at reading people.
Which, now that Merlin thought about it, probably made the genuine affection between Mahrlys and Fhetukhav an even better thing.
Within a month of Fhetukhav’s first visit to the hotel, Sahbahtyno had been studying the contents of his briefcase whenever it was locked in the strongroom overnight. That didn’t happen very often; Nynian and Nahrmahn were far too skilled for anything that crude. But when it did happen, every bit of information, every document in the briefcase, was completely genuine. Some of that information must have been quite valuable to the Temple, although most of it had been things they’d been confident would have eventually reached Zion anyway through one of Rayno and Clyntahn’s other conduits. But coupled with Sahbahtyno’s original triumph with Trumyn’s notes, the fact that they’d never passed him one single piece of misinformation had probably turned him into Rayno’s gold standard as an intelligence source.
There were times I thought you’d spent all this effort building the perfect asset we’d never use, love, Merlin thought, looking down at the top of Nynian’s head with a smile. You were right, though, bless your devious little heart—better to have it available and never use it than to not have it available when we needed it. And when he reports we’re shifting so much of our available strength south to High Mount, Clyntahn—and Maigwair—will have to take the possibility very seriously, indeed.
Merlin Athrawes could live with leaving him un-hanged a little longer to accomplish that.
Especially since they still had more than enough evidence to hang him in the end, anyway.
.V.
Rhobair Duchairn’s Office,
The Temple,
City of Zion,
The Temple Lands,
Republic of Siddarmark.
“That was delicious, Rhobair.”
Vicar Allayn Maigwair wiped his mouth and laid the snowy napkin down beside the empty bowl before he sat back with a sigh of repletion.
“Thank you,” Rhobair Duchairn replied with a smile. “I let Brother Lynkyn keep his cooks, but I extorted their clam chowder recipe out of them at knifepoint. I’m glad you enjoyed it, Allayn.”
“Oh, I did. I did!” Maigwair shook his head. “In fact, I think I enjoyed it even more because I’ve rediscovered how much I prefer simple menus. There’s something … honest about food like clam chowder. I never really enjoyed those fancified dinners we used to have before Zhaspahr got the wild hair up his arse about Charis. Although if I’m going to be honest,” he smiled with a trace of bitterness, “that had less to do with menus and more to do with the fact that I knew the rest of you considered me the lightweight of our little group.”
Duchairn opened his mouth, but Maigwair shook his head before the other vicar could speak.
“The main reason that bothered me was because I figured it was probably true,” he confessed with a slightly broader smile. “On the other hand, it’s occurred to me since that you can be smart as Proctor himself without having a lick of common sense. Our good friend Zhaspahr strikes me as a case in point. And then there’s Zahmsyn.”
“Good of you to leave me out of their company,” Duchairn said wryly as Maigwair paused, and the Church’s captain general snorted.
“I’m not going to propose any of us as geniuses, given the fucking mess we’ve managed to land the entire Church in! And ourselves; let’s not forget that! But the truth is, you were the only one who even tried to put the brakes on. I sure as Shan-wei didn’t!”
He scowled, reached for his beer stein, and finished its contents in a single long swallow.
“Keeps me up nights worrying, that does,” he said in a much quieter voice. “I’m not looking forward to what God and Langhorne will have to say to me on the other side.”