"You seem surprised to see me," De'Unnero said innocently.
Abbot Braumin couldn't even begin to respond, had no words to convex the astonishment and trepidation churning within him.
"You believed me dead?" De'Unnero asked, as if the thought wen absurd.
"The fight at Chasewind Manor…" Abbot Braumin began, but he jus ended up shaking his head. He was still sitting, wasn't even sure if his leg would support him if he tried to stand. And all the while, the monk wa well aware that Marcalo De'Unnero, perhaps the most dangerous monk t ever walk out of St.-Mere-Abelle, could reach across the desk and kill hir quickly and easily.
"I was there," De'Unnero confirmed. "I tried to defend Father Abb(Markwart, as was my solemn duty."
"Markwart is dead and buried," Braumin said, growing a bit more con! dent as he considered the events and the fact that De'Unnero was withoi allies within Palmaris. "Buried and discredited."
If De'Unnero was surprised, he hid it well.
"Elbryan the Nightbird, too, died in the battle," Abbot Braumin we on, and he thought he saw a hint of a smile touch De'Unnero's face. great loss to all the world."
De'Unnero nodded, though his expression hardly revealed any agre ment with the sentiment, more an acknowledgment of Braumin's opinior
Finally, the abbot did manage to stand up and face De'Unnero square "Where have you been? " he demanded. "We have just passed through c darkest and most confused days-we nearly lost all to King Danube-a we are not even certain of where we now stand within the kingdom among the populace. And yet, where is Abbot De'Unnero during all this? Where is the man who will reveal the truth of Father Abbot Ma wart's fall?"
"Perhaps it is a truth I did not believe the Church was ready to hee De'Unnero replied forcefully. He stood back, though, and chuckl "Markwart erred," he admitted, and those two words coming from mouth of this man nearly knocked Abbot Braumin off his feet. "As De'Unnero in trusting him." "He was possessed by Bestesbulzibar," Abbot Braumin dared to remark. That proclamation brought De'Unnero back to his fine edge of anger, eyes shining dangerously.
"How dare you make such a claim? "
"You just said-"
"That he erred," said De'Unnero. "And so I believe he did. He erred in his obsession with the followers of Avelyn Desbris. Better to let the lot of you play out your philosophies, that your own errors might be laid bare for all to see."
"You come back here to speak such nonsense?" Abbot Braumin asked, walking around the desk, for he did not like the way that De'Unnero was using it as a prop to gain a physical advantage. "If you are of Markwart's mind, then know that your ideas have been discredited."
"Because Father Abbot Markwart was possessed by Bestesbulzibar?" De'Unnero asked skeptically.
"Yes!" the abbot of St. Precious snapped. "By the words ofJilseponie herself!" He didn't miss the flash of anger that crossed De'Unnero's face at the mention of the woman. "She, who survived the fight with Markwart, who went to him spiritually to do battle, saw the truth of the man, saw the alliance he had made with the most foul demon."
De'Unnero began laughing before Braumin finished the sentence. "And you would expect her to say differently?" he asked. "Would she admit, then, that Father Abbot Markwart was possessed by angels? "
"You have missed so much," Braumin replied.
"I have witnessed more than you believe from afar."
"Then where have you been?" the abbot demanded. "As we passed our trials with King Danube and Duke Kalas-now Baron of Palmaris-where was Marcalo De'Unnero? As we began our inquisition into the disposition of Father Abbot Markwart, where was De'Unnero? Did you fear, perhaps, that you would be brought to answer for your crimes? "
"Fear?" echoed the former abbot, the former bishop of Palmaris. "And pray tell me what crimes I might have to answer for, good Abbot. Aloysius Crump? " he asked, referring to a merchant whom he, acting as bishop, had arrested and subsequently executed. "Tried and convicted of hiding gemstones, when the edict of the Father Abbot was that I should confiscate every one. What then have I done to deserve such words as these? I stood by Father Abbot Markwart, as I was trained to do at St.-Mere-Abelle, as you were trained to do before Master Jojonah poisoned your heart with his silly beliefs. Yes, my friend, I will speak honestly with you and will not begin to pretend that I mourn the death of the heretic Jojonah. And, yes, I freely admit that I acted the part of Father Abbot Markwart's second and followed his commands, the orders of the rightful leader of the Abellican Church, as any soldier would follow the orders of King Danube. Am I to be called to account for that? Will Braumin Herde place me under arrest and try me publicly? Who next, then, fool? Will you find those who came with Father Abbot Markwart to St. Precious on his first visit and try them for their actions in taking the centaur, Bradwarden, prisoner? But wait, was not your own dear friend, Brother Dellman, among that group? What of the guards in St.-Mere-Abelle who watched over Bradwarden and the doomed Chilichunks in the dungeons of our home abbey? Tell me, abbot of St. Precious, if you mean to punish them as well." De'Unnero shook his head and laughed wickedly, then came forward to stand face-to-face with the abbot, his eyes locked in a fanatical glare. "Pray tell me, abbot reformer, what you will do with all those brothers and all the townsfolk who dragged your precious Master Jojonah through the streets of St.-Mere-Abelle town and tortured him and burned him at the stake. Are they all guilty, as you hint that I am? Shall we build rows of stakes to satiate your lust for revenge? "
"Markwart has been discredited," Abbot Braumin said grimly and determinedly. "He was wrong, Brother De'Unnero, as were you in following him blindly."
De'Unnero backed off a step, though he continued to hold fast that wicked grin of his, the look he had perfected years before, that made it seem as if he held the upper hand in every confrontation, as if he, De'Unnero, somehow knew more than his opponents could begin to understand. "Even if what you say is true, I expect to be formally welcomed back into the Church," he said.
"You must account for the last months," Abbot Braumin declared, but De'Unnero was shaking his head even as the words came out.
"I must account for nothing," he replied. "I needed time to sort through the tumultuous events, and so I left. Can less be said of Braumin and his cohorts and their flight to the Barbacan? "
Braumin's expression turned incredulous.
"If I am called to account for my actions of the last year, dear Braumin Herde, then know that you and your friends will likewise face the inquisition," De'Unnero said confidently. "Your side won the conflict in Palmaris, that much is obvious, and the victor might write the histories in his manner of choosing; but St. Precious is not so large and important a place when measured against St.-Mere-Abelle, and I, and Father Markwart, did not leave that place without allies.
"I have returned, brother," De'Unnero finished, holding wide his arms. "Accept that as fact and think well before you choose to begin a war against me."
Braumin winced and did indeed begin to reflect on the man's words. He hated De'Unnero as much as he had hated Markwart, but did he really have any kind of a case for action against the man? There were rumors that De'Unnero had murdered Baron Bildeborough, rumors Abbot Braumin believed wholeheartedly. But they were just that, rumors, and if there was any evidence of the crime, Braumin hadn't seen it. Marcalo De'Unnero had been Markwart's principal bully, a brute who reveled in the fight, who punished mercilessly those who disagreed with him.
De'Unnero had viciously battled Elbryan, and the wound that had eventually brought down the ranger had been inflicted by a tiger's paw, the favored weapon of this man.