“Where have you been?”
The man was sitting behind the First Sister's desk, going through her papers. Joyhinia bit back her annoyance.
“I was checking on the progress of the gallows. I wanted to be sure everything would be ready.”
“It should be quite an event,” Mathen remarked without looking up. “Not often one gets to see an Officer of the Defenders hanged. I imagine you would have to hang someone as important as the First Sister to get a bigger crowd.”
Even Joyhinia could not miss the veiled threat.
“Tarja Tenragan is a deserter and a miserable traitor.”
Mathen looked up with cold narrow eyes and stared at her. Joyhinia fidgeted under his scrutiny. “Then it will do the citizens good to see what happens to traitors.”
“And it will bring those who oppose us out of the woodwork,” Joyhinia added.
Mathen finished reading the letter he was holding before he answered. “Or drive them underground.”
“No, I know these people. Someone will try to rescue him. And when they do, we'll be ready for them.”
“If it was up to me, I wouldn't try to rescue him,” Mathen shrugged. “If I wanted to ferment rebellion, I would let you hang him unopposed and use his death as a rallying cry for every malcontent in Medalon.”
The implied criticism was clear. “If you think this is such a bad idea, why are you letting it go ahead?”
“Because Lord Roache wishes it, and even as a martyr, Tarja Tenragan will be less trouble dead than alive. Where is the speech I wrote for you?”
“I gave it to my secretary.”
“Fetch it. I have a few changes I wish to make.”
Joyhinia knew better than to argue with the man. She turned on her heel and crossed the large office, jerking open the door angrily.
“Suelen? Give me that speech I gave you yesterday!”
Suelen jumped to obey. Joyhinia snatched the rolled parchment from her outstretched hand and slammed the door in the young woman's face.
“There!” she said, slapping it on the desk.
Squire Mathen looked up. He seemed amused. “Temper, temper, First Sister.”
Although it had been the Karien priests who had worked the spell that had put his mind in Joyhinia's body, secretly, the First Sister was no happier about the Karien occupation of the Citadel than any other Medalonian. It had nothing to do with patriotism, however. Loclon simply wanted to be left alone to run things as he saw fit and Mathen's presence was a constant reminder of the limits to his power.
From a purely political point of view, Loclon begrudgingly admired the Duke of Setenton's wisdom in placing Squire Mathen in charge. Even Lord Roache seemed content to let him take care of the day-to-day running of the Citadel. It must have been tempting for the Kariens simply to demand instant conversion of their new subjects to the Overlord; to forbid practices that had been part of Medalonian society for centuries. Mathen was too clever to stir up resistance in such a manner. There had been enough trouble when they threw open the gates of the Citadel to welcome the Karien occupation force. He wasn't going to make Medalon ungovernable by ordering them to change their views on the gods overnight.
With no Quorum to answer to any longer, the First Sister could issue decrees as she wished, although they were written under Mathen's careful guidance. On the surface, the decrees seemed quite reasonable. One had to look closely to realise they were the first insidious steps down the road of Xaphista's worship. Mathen had all but outlawed prostitution, which the Sisterhood had legalised two centuries ago. There were other laws too, which had been enacted in the past months. It was now an offence to wager on anything; a decree that had been met with a great deal of grumbling, but little open resistance. Loclon wasn't a gambler himself, unless he had fixed it so he knew he would win, but he knew enough about the religion of the Kariens to know that this was another of their strict mores that they wished to impose on Medalon.
Illegitimacy was the next target, Loclon knew, but he doubted Mathen would be quite so lucky getting that one accepted. In Medalon, legitimacy was determined by the maternal line - a law set down by the Sisterhood long ago - and one that meant perhaps two thirds of the population had been born out of the Karien definition of wedlock. They would not be pleased to suddenly find themselves considered bastards.
Had he tried to disband the Defenders, Mathen would have had a bloodbath on his hands, so he had wisely made no attempt to disarm them, and had, against Loclon's advice, left Garet Warner in charge, as the senior officer in the Citadel. Loclon didn't trust Garet Warner, although the man gave every indication of accepting the surrender. To Loclon, even wearing the body of the First Sister, the commandant's cooperation reeked of duplicity. Mathen, however, seemed unconcerned. He considered Garet a pragmatist, and while he obeyed orders, he was content to leave him be.
As for the Lord Defender, nobody, from Lord Roache down, was prepared to trust him. He had accepted the surrender unwillingly and actively abetted the deserters who now plagued them with acts of sabotage. There were even rumours that he had dispatched a large force to Hythria, which was massing to attack in the spring. Jenga was locked in the cells behind the Defenders' headquarters and there he would stay until Roache decided what to do with him. The Karien duke was reluctant to kill him out of hand. He may yet prove useful.
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Mathen looked up and called permission to enter. Garet Warner stepped into the office, saluting Mathen and the First Sister politely when he stopped in front of the desk.
“Good morning, Squire. First Sister.”
“What is it, Commandant? Trouble over the execution today?”
“That's why I'm here. I thought perhaps it might be wise to post extra guards around the Citadel, in case things get out of hand.”
“That's probably a good idea. I'll send out to the camp for some extra men.”
“I was hoping to use the Defenders,” Garet said calmly. Joyhinia watched him with misgiving. Neither Loclon nor Joyhinia had ever liked Garet Warner. He was too clever by half.
“Why?” Mathen asked suspiciously.
“You're going to hang a Defender today, Squire. I'd prefer to have them kept busy. If you leave them off duty, they'll be in the stands as spectators.”
“Then they will learn a salutary lesson.”
“Or they might decide to object.”
Mathen thought on it for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. Use all the men you need. Preferably away from the amphitheatre.”
“I've made a list of strategic locations that would be at risk if anything were to happen. I'll see my men are sent to all those positions. They'll not think it strange, and as you say, it will keep them away from the amphitheatre.”
“Very good. Is that all?”
“There was one other thing,” Garet added, almost as an afterthought. “They're having trouble with the main gate. One of the pulleys has seized and they can't get it open. I've got the engineers working on it. It should be fixed some time this morning.”
Mathen looked annoyed. “A convenient day for that to happen. Are you sure it was an accident?”
The Commandant nodded. “It's not been tampered with, if that's what you mean. I checked on it myself this morning when I heard they were having trouble with it. You can inspect the problem yourself if you wish.”
“Just get the damned thing open,” Mathen snapped impatiently.
“As you wish, Squire.” Garet saluted smartly and turned towards the door. “I've taken the liberty of posting some men outside,” he added as he reached it. Then he looked over his shoulder at Joyhinia and smiled. “And I've arranged a special bodyguard for you too, your Grace. We don't want any incidents.”