I know that boy has an iron stomach, the earl reflected, but I’ll bet even he had his anxious moments on this one. Thank God I didn’t know anything about it until he got here! I’ve got gray hairs enough as it is.
Gray Harbor knew he tended to worry about what Cayleb airily called “the details” of keeping the Empire running. That was his job, when it came down to it, and he was well aware that whatever Cayleb might call them, the emperor knew exactly how important they truly were. Nonetheless, there were times he felt a distinct temptation to say “I told you so,” and looking at the battered ship at quayside was definitely one of those moments.
I don’t care how much sense it made from a diplomatic perspective , he thought now, sourly, this nonsense about their spending half the year here in Tellesberg and the other half in Cherayth is just that-nonsense! Ships sink- even the best of them, sometimes, damn it-and if anyone should’ve known that, it’s Cayleb Ahrmahk. But, no, he had to throw that into the marriage proposal, too. And then he and Sharley- and Alahnah-go sailing back and forth on the same damned ship. So if it sinks, we lose all three of them!
He knew he was being silly, and he didn’t really care. Not at the moment. And he didn’t feel any particular responsibility to be rational, either. Certainly, this time Sharleyan was on a different ship… but that only meant she’d have the opportunity to sink on her own on the way back from Corisande. Assuming, he reminded himself, HMS Dawn Star hadn’t already sunk somewhere in the Chisholm Sea, taking Empress and Crown Princess with her.
Oh, stop that!
He shook his head, feeling his disapproving frown disappearing into a grin as Cayleb Ahrmahk came bounding down the gangplank in complete disregard of the careful formality of an emperor’s proper arrival in his capital city. The trumpeters, as surprised as anyone by Cayleb’s diversion from the anticipated order of disembarkation, began a belated fanfare as the youthful monarch’s feet found the quay. Half the assembled courtiers looked offended, another quarter looked surprised, and the remainder were roaring as lustily with laughter as any of the galleon’s seamen or watching longshoremen.
You’re not going to change them… and even if you could, you know you really wouldn’t, Gray Harbor told himself. Besides, it’s part of the magic. And -his expression sobered- it’s part of their legend. Part of what makes this whole thing work, and they wouldn’t have it if God hadn’t given it to them. So why don’t you just do what they obviously do and trust God to go on getting it right?
“Welcome home, Your Maj-” he began, starting a formal bow, only to be interrupted as a pair of powerful arms which were obviously as unconcerned with protocol as the rest of the emperor enveloped him in a huge hug.
“It’s good to be home, Rayjhis!” a voice said in his ear. The arms around him tightened, two sinewy hands thumped him once each on the back, hard, and then Cayleb stood back. He laid those hands on Gray Harbor’s shoulders, looking into his face, and smiled that enormous, infectious Ahrmahk smile.
“What say you and I get back to the Palace out of all this racket”-he twitched his head to take in the cheering crowds who were doing their best to deafen everyone in Tellesberg-“and find ourselves some tall, cold drinks while we catch each other up on all the news?”
“Thank you for joining us, Paityr,” Archbishop Maikel Staynair said as Bryahn Ushyr ushered Paityr Wylsynn into his office once again.
The intendant began to smile in acknowledgment, but then his face went suddenly neutral as he realized Hainryk Waignair, the elderly Bishop of Tellesberg, and Emperor Cayleb were already present.
“As you can see,” Staynair continued, watching Wylsynn’s expression, “we’ve been joined by a couple of additional guests. That’s because we have something rather… unusual to discuss with you. Something which may require quite a lot of convincing, I’m afraid. So, please, come in and have a seat. You, too, Bryahn.”
Ushyr seemed unsurprised by the invitation, and he touched Wylsynn’s elbow, startling the young Schuelerite back into motion. The two of them crossed to Staynair’s desk to kiss his ring respectfully, then settled into two of the three still unoccupied chairs arranged to face the archbishop and his other guests.
“Allow me to add my thanks to Maikel’s, Father,” Cayleb said. “And not just for joining us today. I’m well aware of how much my House and my Kingdom-the entire Empire-owe to your compassion and open-mindedness. To be honest, that awareness is one of the reasons for this meeting.”
“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?” Wylsynn’s expression was a combination of surprise and puzzlement.
The emperor had arrived back in Tellesberg only yesterday afternoon, and with all that had happened since he and the empress had left Old Charis for Chisholm, there must have been a virtual whirlwind of details and decisions requiring his attention. So what was he doing anywhere except the halls of Tellesberg Palace? If he wanted to meet with Archbishop Maikel or any of the rest of them, he could easily have summoned them to the palace rather than meeting them here. For that matter, how had he gotten to Archbishop Maikel’s office without anyone noticing it? And where were the Imperial Guardsmen who should be keeping an eye on him?
“In answer to one of the several questions I’m sure are swirling around inside that active brain of yours,” Cayleb said, “there’s a tunnel between Tellesberg Palace and the Cathedral. It’s been there for the better part of two centuries now, and I’m not the first monarch who’s made use of it. Admittedly, we’re using it quite a bit more now than we used to, and we never made use of the tunnel between the Cathedral and the Archbishop’s Palace before the, um, recent change in management.” He smiled infectiously. “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to discover there were similar tunnels between a lot of cathedrals and a lot of palaces. Prince Nahrmahn’s confirmed that there’s one in Eraystor, at any rate.”
“I see, Your Majesty.” Wylsynn knew his voice still sounded puzzled, and Cayleb chuckled.
“You see that much, you mean, Father,” he said. “You’re still at sea about the rest of it, though, aren’t you?”
“I’m afraid so, Your Majesty,” Wylsynn admitted.
“All will become clear shortly, Father. In fact,” the emperor’s expression sobered suddenly, “a great many things are about to become clear to you. Before we get into that, however, Maikel has a few things to say to you.”
Cayleb sat back in his chair, passing the conversation over to the archbishop, and Wylsynn turned to look at the head of the Church of Charis.
“What we’re about to tell you, Father,” Staynair’s voice was as sober as the emperor’s expression, “is going to come as a shock. In fact, even someone with your faith is going to find parts of it very difficult to believe… or to accept, at least. And I know-know from personal, firsthand experience, believe me-that it will completely change the way in which you look at the world. The decision to tell you wasn’t lightly made, nor was it made solely by the men you see in this room at this moment. The truth is that I sent you to Saint Zherneau’s for more than one reason, my son. I did send you there because of the spiritual crisis you faced, and I was absolutely honest with you when I told you I’d experienced a similar crisis many years ago and found answers to it at Saint Zherneau’s.
“What I didn’t tell you at that time was the way in which what I learned at Saint Zherneau’s changed my faith. I believe it broadened and deepened that faith, yet honesty compels me to say it might just as easily have destroyed my belief forever, had it been presented to me in even a slightly different fashion. And the second reason I sent you to Father Zhon and Father Ahbel was to give them the opportunity to meet you. To come to know you. To be brutally honest, to evaluate you… and how you might react to the same knowledge.”