"Then go and make our guests feel welcome," Midalis instructed. Liam turned to do just that, but stopped short.
"Seems another had the same way o' thinkin'," he said, leading Midalis' gaze across to the two barbarians and to Abbot Agronguerre and Brother Haney, who were approaching them.
Midalis set off quickly at once, Liam falling in step behind him.
"Greetings, good Bruinhelde and good Andacanavar," he heard the abbot say. "You remember Brother Haney, I trust."
A group of men cut across Midalis at that moment, stopping him short, and their discussion prevented him from hearing the barbarians' response. He breathed a little easier when he finally managed to get around the group of Vanguardsmen, to find the two monks and the two barbarians seemingly at ease.
"Twenty brothers," Agronguerre was saying as Midalis approached. "I wish it could be more, as I wish that I could travel with you."
"You're not so old," Andacanavar offered to the abbot.
"Closer to seventy than to sixty!" Agronguerre proudly replied, patting his belly under the drawstring of his brown robe.
Andacanavar laughed and winked at that statement, a not-so-subtle reminder that he, too, had seen several decades of life, though he could outfight any man north of the gulf.
"Me abbot's got to stay in St. Belfour," Brother Haney cut in. "Word's that a messenger's on the way from the south. We lost our Father Abbot-"
"The leader of our Church," Agronguerre explained. Andacanavar nodded, but Bruinhelde just held his stoic, unreadable expression. "And thus, I expect to be summoned to the south, where a new leader will be elected. But with Vanguard apparently secured, my brothers and I wish to help along the road to the north. I would not presume to send Abellican monks into Alpinador, though, without your permission."
"We came to your aid, you come to ours," Bruinhelde remarked, cutting short Andacanavar, who seemed to be beginning another of his many diplomatic interventions. "It is fair and good. Your brothers are welcome, and with my thanks."
Prince Midalis could hardly believe his ears. He and Liam joined the group with a nod, and with the Prince patting Agronguerre on the shoulder.
"They will take gemstones with them," Agronguerre went on, "and will use them against our enemies and to aid the wounded Vanguardsmen. For your own wounded-" Bruinhelde stiffened/and Midalis held his breath "-the choice remains yours to make, of course." Agronguerre continued, "If you desire our healing magic, pray you simply ask."
"No,"saidBruinhelde.
"As you will," Agronguerre replied. "I feel that I would be derelict in our friendship if I did not make the offer."
"And a fine offer you've made," Andacanavar put in.
"You will watch over the brothers," Bruinhelde said to Midalis.
"Brother Haney will lead them," Agronguerre remarked, but the barbarian leader wasn't paying him any attention.
"We welcome them as allies against our enemies," Bruinhelde went on. "Not as…" He leaned over to Andacanavar and said something in the Alpinadoran tongue, and the ranger promptly translated.
"Not as missionaries."
"Of course," Abbot Agronguerre said with a bow, and he turned to Midalis. "Let us know when you plan to depart. The brothers will be ready." With another bow to the barbarians, he led Brother Haney away.
"It is time for us to return to our own folk, as well," Andacanavar said. "We await you at the mead hall tomorrow night.
"And, Prince Midalis," he added with a sly look, "name a second to command your force. If the opportunity presents itself, perhaps we can make this trip doubly profitable. And, my friend, you never can tell when the spirit shaggoth will win."
Midalis smiled at the remark, but he felt Liam O'Blythe tense at his side, and he knew that his friend was going to try to persuade him against accepting the blood-brothering, probably long into the night.
Chapter 13
"You choose your allies foolishly," Targon Bree Kalas fumed at Abbot Braumin. "Choose?" Braumin echoed incredulously, and in truth, the churchman shared Kalas' feelings more than the Duke could ever know.
"Bishop De'Unnero is not well liked within the city," Kalas went on.
"Nor within the Church," Braumin said under his breath. They had met by chance at the Palmaris market, but as soon as Braumin had seen Kalas coming, had seen the expression on the Duke's face, he had guessed the source of the man's ire.
"They remember Aloysius Crump," Kalas went on. "Who could forget the sight of the innocent man being roasted alive with your godly magic? They remember De'Unnero's actions against their families and friends. And now you are fool enough to parade him before the people? Does your Church invite such disdain? "
Abbot Braumin swallowed hard, forcing himself to calm down, reminding himself not to play into Kalas' hands here in the open. For a brief moment, he had wondered why in the world Duke Kalas, with whom he had been fighting from the very beginning of their respective appointments, would go out of his way to point out the trouble with keeping De'Unnero around. But given the public nature of this place, given the multitude of spectators and the way the Duke had already couched the premise of the conversation, the answer seemed clear. Braumin had gone out of his way to keep De'Unnero's return as secret as possible, though rumors had slipped out. He had begged the former Bishop to keep a low profile, and De'-;
Unnero, apparently understanding the wisdom of Braumin's suggestion, | had done just that. / |
"Am I to refuse the former Bishop entry to St. Precious? " Braumin asked innocently.
"Expel him!" Duke Kalas returned. It struck Braumin then that there was more than political gain motivating Kalas here, there was true hatred for De'Unnero. "Excommunicate him! Why, I would not share the same church with the man!"
"I have not seen you at service in St. Precious, your Grace," Braumin pointed out.
But Kalas snorted, shook his head, and walked away, with every member of his entourage pointedly speaking the name of De'Unnero, along with some unfavorable adjective, as they followed him.
Abbot Braumin stood in the market for a long while, aware of the angry stares coming at him from every angle. De'Unnero had made too many enemies here, he understood, and he dropped the fruit he had picked back into the vendor's cart and started away swiftly for St. Precious, hoping that he might use Kalas' tirade and those angry stares of the peasants to persuade the former Bishop that it would be better for all if he left the city.
Master Francis paused and stared long and hard at the cold walls of St. Mere-Abelle, brown and gray stone stretching for more than a mile along the high cliff overlooking All Saints Bay. He remembered the first time he had entered the abbey, more than a decade before, a young novice walking through the Gauntlet of Willing Suffering, a row of older brothers armed with wooden paddles.
Still, Francis would have preferred that treatment to what awaited him now within the foreboding place. His news was grim, all of it, from the disaster in Palmaris and the loss of brothers to the goblins outside Davon Dinnishire to, perhaps worst of all, the signs he had encountered of the rosy plague. But even more than that, Francis saw St.-Mere-Abelle now as a reminder of his errors. In that place, he had followed Father Abbot Markwart, had obeyed the man blindly, even when Markwart was torturing the innocent Chilichunks and the centaur, Bradwarden, in the dungeons. Here Francis had not spoken out against the murder-and it was indeed murder, he understood now-of Master Jojonah.
St.-Mere-Abelle-with all its strong stone walls, its sense of majesty and power-reminded Master Francis of his own frailties. And he could not even enter secure in the knowledge that he had put those faults behind him. Oh, he was wiser now, he understood the evil that had possessed Father Abbot Markwart, but it seemed to him that his own courage remained an elusive thing. Perhaps he had been wrong in withdrawing his demand that Jilseponie take over the Abellican Church. He understood and still recognized the problems that such a nomination would have brought, but shouldn't he have fought for it anyway? Shouldn't he have stood up for the right course, whatever the potential troubles?