“I completely forgot that I wanted to ask Brother Sylvestrai and Master Bryairs to sit in on our discussion today, Brother.” The Church’s captain general smiled apologetically. “There are a couple of points about the new shells and their fuses I wanted their opinions on. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to invite them to join us?”
Fultyn’s eyebrows twitched, as if they’d begun rising in surprise. If they had, though, he stopped them immediately and nodded.
“Of course, Your Grace. I’m sure Brother Sylvestrai is in his office, but I believe Tahlbaht may be out on the manufacturing floor. I’ll probably have to hunt for him. I hope a ten-minute or so wait will be acceptable?”
“Ten minutes will be just fine, Brother. I’m sure Vicar Rhobair and I can find something to talk about until you get back.”
“With your permission, then, Your Graces,” Fultyn murmured, bowed, and withdrew from the office, closing the door behind him.
“He really is a remarkably perceptive fellow, isn’t he?” Maigwair said dryly as the door shut.
“Being disciplined by the Inquisition for questioning perceived wisdom when you’re only nineteen has that effect on people,” Duchairn replied, unwrapping his thick, soft muffler and slipping gratefully out of his coat in the office’s warmth. He hung the coat on Fultyn’s coat tree and turned back to Maigwair, smoothing his cassock.
“He’s about the farthest thing from an idiot you’re likely to meet, too,” he continued. “That means he’s staying as far away as possible from offering the Inquisition an excuse to ‘discipline’ him again … which isn’t all that easy, now that I think about it, given what he’s doing for the Jihad.” The treasurer’s lips twisted bitterly for a moment, then he shook himself and looked Maigwair in the eye. “Which brings me to why you’ve sent him off on an errand any one of his clerks could have discharged equally well. Should I assume it has something to do with St. Thyrmyn’s? Or, rather, with the obviously utterly baseless rumors about St. Thyrmyn’s which are currently swirling about the Temple’s rarefied heights?”
“You should, indeed,” Maigwair said grimly, and in a considerably lower voice. He twitched his head, inviting Duchairn to join him once again by the window … which happened to be the farthest point in the office from its door and whose frosty panes happened to let them see if anyone’s ear just happened to be pressed against them.
“Have you heard anything beyond rumors?” Duchairn asked, equally quietly, his shoulder less than two inches from his fellow vicar’s.
“No.” Maigwair shook his head. “But they’re so damnably persistent I’m positive there’s at least something to them. And Tobys agrees; he’s been making some very quiet inquiries of his own, and the very things his sources in the Inquisition aren’t telling him convinces him that something—something serious, Rhobair—went wrong at the prison.”
Duchairn nodded almost imperceptibly and pursed his lips, clearly considering what Maigwair had just said. Bishop Militant Tobys Mykylhny was probably Maigwair’s most trusted subordinate after Archbishop Militant Gustyv Walkyr, himself. Maigwair and Mykylhny had attended seminary together, although Maigwair had been two years ahead of him at the time. In fact, he’d been the younger man’s assigned mentor until his own consecration, and Mykylhny had been a senior officer in the Temple Guard before it gave up so many of its personnel to the newly formed Army of God. For the last several years, he’d functioned as the captain general’s senior intelligence officer. As such, he’d been forced to establish his own contacts in the Inquisition and create a working relationship with them which was at least civil. Duchairn never doubted that Wyllym Rayno was fully aware of who those contacts were, but the Inquisition’s adjutant clearly understood that Maigwair needed the ability to cross check at least some of what the Inquisition told him about Charisian capabilities. For that matter, Rayno—unlike Clyntahn—probably understood that Maigwair needed access to at least some of the information the Inquisition deliberately didn’t share with him.
Of course, those “contacts” of Mykylhny’s have to know Rayno’s keeping a very close eye on them, the treasurer reflected. That’s probably what Allayn meant about “aren’t telling him”—if they’ve got working brains, anyway! The question is what I tell him.…
“I think you’re right,” he said after a long moment. “And whatever it is, it scares the hell out of Zhaspahr.”
“Really?” Maigwair rubbed his chin. “I admit, I thought he looked a little … squirrely at our last meeting. I couldn’t decide whether it was because of whatever happened at St. Thyrmyn’s or the way Hanth’s driving Rychtyr back into Dohlar.” He shook his head. “He didn’t even gloat at me over how that ‘confirms the heretics’ are positioning themselves for their southern strategic shift.”
“I was a bit surprised by that myself,” Duchairn admitted. “On the other hand, however pleased he may be by the evidence that his ‘Rakurai’ brought us good information, he’s still unhappy as Shan-wei about the Dohlaran situation.” The treasurer shrugged. “On the one hand, he thinks it proves he was right; on the other, we’re still only in the early stages of the redeployment, and he’s afraid they’re going to succeed before we can get all the pieces moved around. I think he’s feeling some serious doubts about how … firmly committed to the Jihad, let’s say, Dohlar is. In fact, I’m surprised he hasn’t already taken Thirsk completely off the board, especially now that the Inquisition’s lost its … leverage with him. I expect he would’ve, if he wasn’t so worried about how the Dohlaran Navy might react. They’re not too happy about what happened to their commanding admiral’s family already, and only the ones too dumb to pour piss out of a boot haven’t figured out the real reason his daughters and grandchildren were being sent to Zion ‘for their own safety.’”
Both vicars grimaced in matching distaste.
“But Dohlar isn’t what has him running scared,” Duchairn continued. “I don’t know exactly what happened at St. Thyrmyn’s, but I do know you’re right that it must’ve been disastrous, whatever it was.”
“You know that?” Maigwair turned his head to look at his fellow vicar. “How?”
“I’m sure you’ve realized by now that I don’t keep Major Phandys around just because I’m so fond of him,” Duchairn replied a bit obliquely, his tone dry, and Maigwair snorted.
“I am still the Temple Guard’s official commanding officer,” he said. “And, as a matter of fact, I know exactly why Major Phandys was assigned to your detail, since I was the one who signed off on that assignment when Rayno ‘suggested’ it.” He actually looked embarrassed for a moment, then shrugged. “He doesn’t report directly to me anymore—hasn’t in quite a while, actually—but I don’t doubt for a moment that he’s still Zhaspahr’s dagger inside your staff, Rhobair. I trust you’re keeping that in mind?”
“Since my brain still functions, at least on odd-numbered days, yes, I am.” Duchairn’s tone was even drier than it had been. “On the other hand, every so often the Major can be worth having around.” Maigwair arched his eyebrows in polite disbelief, and Duchairn chuckled harshly. “Oh, not because he means to be! Although, to be fair,” he added judiciously, “I think he’s perfectly prepared to keep me in one piece against threats that don’t come out of the Inquisition. And against those sorts of threats, he’s actually a very competent fellow.”
Maigwair nodded, and Duchairn shrugged.
“Anyway, I’ve discovered I can use him as a sounding board in some ways. His poker face isn’t quite as good as he thinks it is, and his reactions to things I say sometimes offer me an insight into what Rayno’s been discussing with him. And every so often some little tidbit of information oozes out of him without his realizing it. And because it does, I know—or at least strongly suspect—something Zhaspahr hasn’t seen fit to share with us.”