“The pagans have all abandoned the cause, then?”
“It's not a matter of pagans and Verenthanes, Archbishop.”
“And yet all those who remain loyal are Verenthane.”
“And noble. That is the primary thing. This is a war about nobility, above all else.”
“Interesting,” said Turen. “I had thought it a war for the righteous gods against ungodly evil, myself.”
“Whatever else the serrin have done,” Sofy continued, ignoring the interjection, “they have abolished nobility in these lands. My husband's army seeks to restore it. Nobility is a point of great contention in Lenayin also. All nobility there is Verenthane, save for the Taneryn. I would guess that some, if not most, Verenthane common folk will have joined this rebellion-the dislike of nobility runs deep in Lenayin save in the north, irrespective of faith. Perhaps this campaign has reawakened those old arguments.”
“It seems the noble families of Lenayin have not earned the love of the people.”
“Possibly true,” Sofy said coldly. “A fact from which my family remains the exception.”
“I hear tales,” continued the Archbishop, “that you are quite taken with these lands. With this city, and its serrin constructions.”
“There is much knowledge here,” said Sofy. “Things that wise rulers could learn to use, as Lenay rulers learned much from the Torovan Verenthanes who brought us the faith one century ago.”
“Do you like this city?”
“I find it has its attractions,” Sofy said cautiously.
“Myself,” said Turen, “I feel it could be improved.”
Leaving the temple, Sofy made straight for Jaryd. About the courtyard now, Elissian lords were giving orders to horsemen, who clattered away down adjoining lanes. Something was afoot.
“They're organising,” said Jaryd, with a nod to the Elissians. “I think the others are coming.” The Elissian Army, he meant. The one that was supposed to remain camped beyond the city limits.
“I don't like this at all,” said Jeddie, pale with alarm. “What in the world is the Archbishop doing here anyway? I mean, the Army of Lenayin defects and he chooses to deliver the message personally?”
“My husband did not want the priesthood involved in the fate of Tracato,” said Sofy. “He made it explicit: he does not trust them to make decisions.”
Jeddie was shaking her head. “He doesn't control the priesthood, Sofy! No one does, they answer to the gods. Until now they've been preoccupied with returning the Shereldin Star to Shemorane, but now they've achieved that, they're free to start reordering these conquered lands as they see fit!”
“Balthaar had the authority to keep them out of Tracato and send me instead,” Sofy muttered. “But when the Army of Lenayin broke up, that ended. His lords who opposed sending me will have revolted….”
“Yes,” said Jeddie, breathlessly. She was the daughter of Tournean nobility, she'd lived and breathed these manoeuvrings her entire life. “Balthaar's position itself could be under threat, he has lost face over this….”
“He's just won the biggest victory in two centuries,” Jaryd disagreed. “He's not about to be weakened now-”
“Listen,” Jeddie said impatiently, “when a leader of a great army wins a big victory, it is judged to be a verdict of the gods. That's where his new authority comes from. Now who do you think is in charge of issuing that verdict?”
“The Archbishop,” said Sofy. “He's in a fight with Balthaar over the future of these lands. And now he has a free hand here, and an army of vengeful Elissians to do his bidding.” Now she was scared, in a way that threats to her personal safety had not entirely achieved. “Jaryd, I want you to ride to the Justiciary and find Maldereld's Founding. The original manuscripts, the codes of law, those must be saved.”
Jaryd shook his head. “No. I swore to protect you-I'm not leaving you alone now that these idiots want your head-”
“Jaryd, I'm still a Lenay Princess, and I command you to-”
“You're not!” Jaryd snorted. “You stopped being that when you married that goon.”
“Then what the hells are you doing here?” She stared at him, shoulders heaving. Jaryd stared back. The answer hung in the air, stark in their silence. Sofy's eyes nearly spilled as she looked at him. She couldn't afford this now, there were so many larger things at stake. “Jaryd, there are documents in the Justiciary that lay the foundations of a better world. A world without these goons, as you call them. They'll want them destroyed, they'll want all of it destroyed. Don't tell me that means nothing to you.”
Jaryd looked away.
“Jeddie,” she continued, “get to the Mahl'rhen, see it evacuated, see those few foolish serrin like Lesthen taken out in disguise if you have to.”
Jeddie nodded and went for her horse. Jaryd indicated to Jandlys, and the huge Taneryn ran to follow. Sofy did not protest since Jandlys was obviously taken with the noble Tournean, and would fight like an animal to protect her.
Sofy grasped Jaryd's hand. “Jaryd, go. Asym can stay and protect me. Do this for me.”
“And where will you be?”
Sofy smiled wanly. “Within the protective army of my husband's knights, what could hurt me?”
Jaryd arrived to find local men in urgent discussion upon the broad steps of the Justiciary. He dismounted and accosted a local to ask him what this latest commotion was about.
“Fighting,” said the man, in broken Torovan. “East, east.” He pointed, more northeast than east, in the direction the Elissians would come from. “Local men fight, but they many.”
Jaryd ran up the steps and into the huge hall of one of the most impressive buildings in Tracato. It thronged with people, more commotion, and urgent conversation. The Justiciary was the centre of Tracato in many ways. During the troubles, the Civid Sein had overrun it, held Sasha captive here, and tortured her. Alythia, they'd murdered. No doubt Sofy was correct that any new force determined to overrun the city would aim here first.
Some hurried questions directed him to a senior Justice, talking with a local man Jaryd took to be Nasi-Keth, in a back hallway. “I'm Jaryd Nyvar,” Jaryd interrupted. “I come on Princess Sofy's instructions-she has just had audience with Archbishop Turen, and she fears for the safety of the documents of law.”
“I tell you, they are coming!” the Nasi-Keth man resumed berating the Justice. “The Elissians are coming, the Archbishop gives them holy sanction to enter the city and lay waste!”
The Justice stared at Jaryd for a long moment. Jaryd had seen fear before. He'd known it himself, intimately. What he saw in the Justice's eyes was not the fear for personal safety. It was more like the fear he'd known in that moment he'd learned that his fellow nobles had invoked the Sylden Sarach, and declared the dissolution of his family. The fear when an old Baen-Tar groundsman had dared approach to tell him that his little brother was dead.
It was the fear of a man who saw the one thing he loved more in the world than himself sentenced to death.
The Justice turned and led them hurriedly up some stairs to a higher hallway. They entered a grand chamber, where clerks sorted piles of parchment and books onto tables. There followed much shouting of instruction in Rhodaani, as Jaryd stood by impatiently and wondered how long it would take the Elissians to fight their way through to this point. Some ordinary Tracatans had fled the city, but most had stayed. Some of those were formerly of the Steel and retained weapons. Others were Nasi-Keth, or Nasi-Keth trained. The Elissians would not find it easy, but they had armour and organisation, and many of those opposing would be older men who had not drilled in a decade or more.
“We can't take all of this!” Jaryd insisted to the clerks who ran into the chamber from adjoining rooms, carrying yet more piles. Few paid him any attention. Jaryd fumed, and went to the window to listen for sounds of fighting.