He got it, and it was a testimony to his stature, his congregation’s love and respect for him, that he did. That he could.
It didn’t come instantly, that silence. Even for him, it came slowly, limpingly, like a catamount unwillingly surrendering its prey, and it spread even more slowly to the throngs beyond the cathedral’s walls. Yet it came at last, and he looked out across the pews once more.
“Our brothers and fathers and sons and husbands have been given over into the hands of torturers and murderers serving that vile corruption which sits in the Grand Inquisitor’s chair,” the normally gentle and loving archbishop said harshly. “They have been given over not because of anything they’ve done that deserves such hideous punishment, whatever Zhaspahr Clyntahn and his coterie of sycophants and butchers may claim. They’ve been surrendered to suffer all of those agonies and the final and culminating agony of the Punishment of Schueler because they dared- dared, my children!-to defend their families and their loved ones and their fellow children of God against exactly that which they themselves are even now suffering. They dared to defy the evil and corruption and the arrogance of the Group of Four, and Zhaspahr Clyntahn has perverted his office, just as he has perverted his immortal soul, to punish that defiance not of God, but of him.
“This is not the act of the Temple Loyalists, although many among them may be so deceived by the Group of Four’s lies that they applaud it. This is not the act of the neighbor across the street from you who continues to oppose the schism, the ‘heresy,’ of the Church of Charis. This is not the act of someone who truly seeks to know and to understand God’s will. It is not the act of someone who respects law, or justice, or truth, or anything in God’s wide world which is more important than himself.”
More than one of the people in that cathedral stared at him in something very like shock. Not at what they were hearing, but at who they were hearing it from. This was Maikel Staynair, the gentle shepherd-the archbishop who’d cried out for understanding and compassion from the very same pulpit in which he stood today with the blood of his own intended assassins splashed across his vestments. Yet there was no gentleness in him this day.
“As today’s Scripture tells us, ‘That one shall be accursed in the eyes of God. Every man’s hand shall be against him. As he sows, so shall he reap, and the mercy he denies to others shall be denied to him in his turn.’” The archbishop’s voice was ribbed with iron, and his eyes were harder yet. “The Church of Charis does not torture, does not murder, does not massacre-not even in the name of God, far less in the name of foul and vaunting ambition! The Empire of Charis will not strike out blindly, will not mistake the unwilling servant for the corrupt and despicable master. No doubt there will come a reckoning for King Rahnyld, in the fullness of time, yet Rahnyld is nothing. He is only a servant, a slave of his masters in Zion, and we know our true enemies. We know the hand behind this crime. We know the twisted mind and the withered soul which commanded it. We know whose hand this blood is truly on, and we will remember. We will remember… and we will call that hand to account.”
Bared steel clashed in the depths of that promise, and he looked out over the shocked, silent cathedral.
“I have consulted with Emperor Cayleb and Empress Sharleyan about this matter,” he said quietly, flatly. “I have urged from the beginning that we leave justice to be done by the Crown, and so I urge now. I beg all of you, as God’s children, to refrain from seeking objects of vengeance. Those Temple Loyalists who live in the Empire had nothing to do with this! The vast, vast majority of Temple Loyalists living even in Dohlar had nothing to do with this. It was done not at the orders of the Dohlaran Navy or the Dohlaran Army, but at the orders of the Inquisition and of that unspeakably vile individual whose every breath profanes the vicar’s robe he wears. And because it was, the Empire of Charis and the Church of Charis will not strike out at the innocent or those who had no choice but to obey corruption’s orders.”
He drew himself up to his full impressive height, and his voice rolled with harsh thunder.
“No doubt there are those who will argue that we should carry out reprisals against the far greater number of prisoners who lie in our hands. That we should make clear to the kings and princes who oppose us in the service of the Group of Four that we will treat their surrendered soldiers and sailors precisely as they treat ours. But we are called upon to wield the sword of justice, my children, not the sword of blind vengeance. Your Emperor and Empress will not dishonor themselves or stain the honor of those who serve in our Navy and our Marines and our Army with the murder of those who have done nothing but follow their officers’ orders and fight honorably and openly upon the field of battle.
“But- but, my children!-the Inquisition has shown itself to be the enemy of all mankind. Whatever it may once have been, it has fallen into the grasp of men like Zhaspahr Clyntahn who have distorted and twisted it into something which it may never be possible to cleanse again. Its members have become not servants of God but His enemies. God gave all men free will, the ability to choose, and they have chosen to serve the Dark, instead.
“So be it. ‘As he sows, so shall he reap, and the mercy he denies to others shall be denied to him in his turn.’ There will be no torture, but neither will there be mercy. From this day forth, Inquisitors-not simply intendants, not simply Schuelerites, but those in the direct and personal service of the Grand Inquisitor-shall receive precisely what the Writ promises them. As they have chosen to deny mercy to others, it will be denied to them. Soldiers and sailors may be allowed to surrender and receive the humane, honorable treatment to which their actions have entitled them; Inquisitors will not. Let the word go forth, my children. Let there be no ambiguity, no misunderstanding. Those who wish to renounce the distorted and twisted policies and commands of Zhaspahr Clyntahn are free to do so. They may still face trial and punishment for acts they have already committed, but they will be granted that trial. And for those who do not wish to renounce their allegiance to Zhaspahr Clyntahn, who continue to willingly lend themselves to his acts of murder and terrorism and torture, there will be a different policy. The only trial they will receive is to determine whether or not they truly are servants of the Inquisition, and if they are so found to be, there will be only one sentence, and that sentence will be executed upon them immediately and without appeal, just as surely as, in the fullness of time and God’s good grace, it will be executed upon Zhaspahr Clyntahn himself.” . III.
Sairaih’s Tavern, City of Tellesberg, Kingdom of Old Charis
Ainsail Dahnvahr had forgotten how good real Charisian beer tasted. His father had been willing to pay the premium for Charisian beer when Ainsail was younger, and he’d developed a taste for it. Of course, that had changed abruptly when the kingdom of Rahzhyr Dahnvahr’s birth turned against Mother Church, although Ainsail was pretty sure his father would have gone ahead paying for the imported beer if that hadn’t become so… indiscreet in the Temple Lands.
It shamed him to admit that, but there was no point trying to pretend otherwise. His father’s faith was weak, no match for the fervor of Ainsail’s mother’s belief. Or Ainsail’s, for that matter. There’d been times Ainsail had suspected that deep in the secret places of his own heart his father was still a Charisian first and a servant of God second, and that had caused him more than shame. That suspicion was the mother of pain, and twice Ainsail had almost mentioned his father’s Charisian sympathies to one of the Inquisition’s agents.