Petronus leaned on his podium. “You did this thing?”
“I paid someone to do it,?›€to do it1; Sethbert said. “I did it. Yes.” And suddenly an odd thing happened. Sethbert’s eyes became bright and hard.
“Why?”
Sethbert said nothing.
Petronus scowled. “Surely you had a reason.”
Sethbert looked around the room again, possibly for a sympathetic face. There were none. And he had no way of knowing that his own family had been excluded from the proceedings at Petronus’s command. The Gypsy King had actually protested this the night before, but had left the matter alone when Petronus raised his voice and reminded Rudolfo that though the trial was held on his soil, it was entirely an Androfrancine affair.
Sethbert drew himself up, broken no more. “My reasons were my own.”
Petronus saw the line of his jaw, and realized that Sethbert would never tell. Not even the physicians had broken that part of him. It made him wonder what-other than a profound sense of rightness-could create that kind of resolve. Regardless, this matter was not about Sethbert. It was about a perception of justice and about a better future. He continued. “But you acknowledge guilt?”
“I do.”
Petronus looked out over the crowd, scanning the room. Now his own eyes went to Rudolfo and Jin Li Tam, then to Isaak and finally to Neb, though the young man looked away quickly. It broke his heart to see it, but he’d known he had to protect the boy.
Then he saw another familiar face far up and to the right, partially hidden behind the hood of a low-level archeologist’s robes.
Vlad Li Tam nodded to Petronus, a grim smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Petronus forced his eyes away and looked back to Sethbert. “Then as Patriarch and King, I find you guilty.” Petronus moved around the platform. “Does any here dispute my finding?”
No one spoke. No one moved.
Petronus continued his slow walk, his eyes narrow and studying the faces around him. He stopped in front of the new bishop who had challenged him on the matter of the mechoservitors. He stared at him and the bishop stared back. “What sentence does this crime merit?”
At first, the bishop didn’t answer. Slowly, he worked his mouth open. “He should be put to death, Father.”
Petronus nodded. “I agree that he should._›€ he shou221; He walked slowly to another bishop, one Rudolfo knew to have been an archeologist working in the Churning Waste until recently. “Do you agree?”
The archeologist nodded. “I do, Father.”
Petronus whipped a fishing knife from his robes. He held the short blade aloft, watching as Rudolfo signed and gestured his rushing Gypsy Scouts to stand down.
Alarm spread over Rudolfo’s face, and his hands moved quickly. What do you play at, old man?
Petronus ignored him. “Sethbert dies today. Who will carry out his sentence?”
Someone nodded to the band of Gypsy Scouts. “Have them do it.”
Petronus chuckled. “Too long we’ve invited others to our unpleasant tasks. This one we will do ourselves.”
Sethbert now was shaking. His bladder cut loose, wetting the front of his tunic and breeches. But he did not speak.
Now Petronus turned to Isaak. “You. What of you?” Isaak took a tentative step forward. “Of all of us here, he wronged you the most. He bent you against your will and turned you into a weapon beyond our wildest imaginings. He gave you the words to level a city and kill every man, woman, child and beast within.”
The metal man took another step forward. “I want to,” Isaak said now. “I truly do.” He hung his head. “I cannot.” When he looked up, his eyes went dark and his voice took on a tone of profound sadness. “Life is sacred.”
Petronus nodded. “And that makes taking it so much harder. Any time we do so, we take something from the light.” He turned away from the metal man, facing the crowd. “A wise Gray Guard once told me that being willing to die for the light was easy, that being willing to kill for it was a harder matter. Not everyone’s shoulders were meant to bear such a burden.” He looked at Rudolfo. “It is no secret that I do not wish to be Pope. I made that statement plain enough thirty years ago. You have asked me for a new Pope. I will give you one.” He waited, letting the words settle in. “Whichever of you Androfrancines gathered here will come, take this knife and execute this condemned man, may have my Patriarchal blessing and bear the signet of the Gospel of P’andro Whym. Kill this man and be our Pope.”
No one moved. The room became silent.
Then, slowly, Neb stood up.
Vlad Li Tam
Vlad Li Tam wat›€lad Li Tched the fisherman move the pieces on his board and saw his father’s handiwork. He had not expected Sethbert’s sudden resolve. His threat had been unnecessary. Now he saw the young man standing, and he saw the look of grief flash for just a moment across Petronus’s face.
But Petronus would have anticipated this. Because they had taught each other as boys during that summer long ago, he knew how to read him. Petronus had taught him to fish, how to cast the net and pull it and how to cast the rod and drop the hook where trout were rising. In turn, Vlad Li Tam had taught him to play queen’s war, and he had been adequate but awkward.
Now, he played this game as a master.
Petronus stared at the boy. Finally, he repeated himself slowly, intending the words for the one young man in the room who had no hesitation. “Whichever of you Androfrancines,” he said, “come and take this knife.” He broke his gaze with the boy and looked to the mechoservitor who sat listening to the session so that it could later be reproduced on paper. “Let the record show that the young man, Nebios ben Hebda, was removed from the Order by a Writ of Excommunication by Papal Discretion.”
Vlad Li Tam smiled. Another of his old laws.
Glaring, Neb sat down.
A voice rang out, and Petronus looked away from the boy. “A Pope would not do such a thing,” one of the bishops said. “The Whymer Bible forbids it.”
Petronus waited. A murmur rose beneath the tent, and a wind outside whipped through the three entrances, carrying the scent of evergreen and lavender.
Vlad Li Tam watched his old friend’s next move and nodded. The brilliance and beauty of his father’s work was something to behold. In that moment, he realized his own part in that work, and it awed him.
“Very well,” Petronus said. He walked to Sethbert and stood before him. “None of you will kill for the light.”
Petronus laid his hand on the side of Sethbert’s face, gently as if he were a father comforting a wayward child.
But when the old man brought the knife up with his other hand, he was fast and sure, with the precision of a fisherman.
Petronus dropped the blade. He raised his bloody hands above his head.
“This backward dream is over,” Petronus said. “I am the last Androfrancine Pope.”
Then he tugged off his ring and dropped it alongside t›€it alonghe red-stained knife.
Vlad Li Tam stood and quickly slipped from the pavilion. He moved fast, his escort beside him.
Soon, he thought, I will return to fishing.
Chapter 32
Petronus
Petronus scrubbed the blood from his hands and forearms in the fountain outside the manor. He’d slipped into a plain brown robe in the commotion that ensued just after his last act as Pope, then he’d made his way out the back of the pavilion and cut through the forest to the town.
So far, it had gone exactly as he’d planned, though he despised himself for the pain he’d caused the boy, Neb. He’d already sent out the birds, disposing of the properties and transferring what holdings remained into Rudolfo’s name. All that remained was to pack and go home.