Cardinal Veck approached after the High Cardinal, but clearly had nothing further to add and he soon gave way to Cardinal Certinse, the last of the sitting cardinals of the Synod. Certinse looked drawn and pale; he had lost weight since Isak had seen him last, and his nervousness was palpable. Bloodshot eyes indicated many sleepless nights — no great surprise seeing his sister had joined his brother and nephew among the recent dead; she'd poisoned herself before summoning the daemon in Irienn Square.
Isak had no problem keeping his face stern as he reminded himself of the cardinal's crimes, which had at last been unearthed. As he reached out to touch the cardinal's gold ring of office, he brushed the man's finger with his own and quested out, sensing what he could. The touch of Nartis was weak, barely more than an echo — and confirmation of what Lesarl had turned up.
'Look up, man! Stand up straight and show some backbone,' Isak snapped. 'I'm about to save your life here.'
The cardinal flinched as though he'd been struck, but he did manage to lift his head and keep his terror-filled eyes raised.
'No one can hear us, but your life depends on your ability to act; understand me?'
'I- Yes, my Lord, I understand.' Certinse's eyes betrayed more than a little confusion, but the man was a born politician. His nostrils flared as though finding a scent.
'Good. Now you will have to face me down as we talk; save the finger-wagging for later but they must see you arguing, do you understand? Shake your head if you do.'
Certinse hardly hesitated at the strange instruction before violently shaking his head. A little colour returned to his cheeks as the condemned man grasped at that glimmer of hope.
'Excellent. I'll make this quick. You're unaffected by the rage of the Gods, and I know why. Don't bother to deny it, just let it stand. I am certain this is because Nartis has been replaced by some daemon ally of Cordein Malich's. I have evidence that you were part of the Malich conspiracy from the start.'
Certinse opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. He gave Isak a wary look. 'What is it you want from me?' he asked in a small voice.
'To look bloody angry would be a start, not scared, you fucking cowardly heretic'
Isak's words had the desired effect as Certinse bristled and his face purpled with anger. 'Whatever evidence that deluded maniac Disten gave you, it's false,' he growled.
The bluster prompted a wolfish grin on Isak's face. He smothered it quickly. 'Sorry, but no — it's real. You didn't leave much of a trail yourself, but your aides weren't so careful, and their appetites needed paying for. They stole from the bodies they were told to bury — and there's more than one alibi that depends on the deceased disappearing at sea with all his belongings.'
This struck home like a physical blow. Certinse managed not to sag, but Isak saw the beaten look in his eye. He knew he'd been caught.
'Why am I here then? Why have you not arrested me?'
'Because this evidence means I own you, and much as I hate it, your past crimes mean you could be the solution to the present problem.'
'I don't understand,' Certinse said, sounding pathetic.
'It's simple,' Isak growled, leaning forward in his seat. The sight of his massive frame looming closer sparked" fear in Certinse's eyes, but any animation was better than exhausted acceptance to onlookers, Isak thought. 'You have worshipped daemons and lived, and that means you are no longer bound to your God. Consequently, you are unaffected by this current rage. As much as it disgusts me, I must work with what I've got. Right now, you are the only cleric within the cults of Death or Nartis I can be certain is rational. So you will suggest you yourself are sent to conduct negotiations with Chief Steward Lesarl over the High Cardinal's new religious laws, and I must accept this insult, or lose face.'
'You're just accepting this madness?' Certinse asked, aghast. 'Have you read his document?'
'Right now I have no choice but to mollify the cults, or face insurrection at a time I cannot afford it — you'll be easier to mollify than Echer, because the evidence I have means you'll burn if it ever reaches a court.'
'You cannot murder the High Cardinal!'
'Who said anything about murder? He's an old man using magic to keep himself strong; I'm confident he won't last long.'
'And then?'
'And then your prominence in these negotiations will make you the natural successor to the position of High Cardinal. You will quell any suspicions of foul play, do your piece of screaming and shouting about moral decay, then accept a lessened set of laws — the bare minimum necessary to keep the people from fighting in the streets.'
'You're making me High Cardinal,' Certinse said in disbelief.
'In return for keeping control of the cults,' Lesarl joined in. 'You might need to have Jopel Bern forced from office, but I'm sure you could manage such a thing. Keep your house in order and you will have everything you desire: the position you have plotted to take for decades, and a long life in which to enjoy it. Now, go back and tell them we quarrelled about Disten's investigation.'
Isak sat back and watched the emotions play over Certinse's face. It took just a few seconds for Certinse to realise his position, then he shook his head fiercely and agreed.
Once satisfied his anger had been noted by the room, Certinse returned to report his argument to his fellow cardinals while the rest of the Synod presented themselves. Out of the corner of his eye Isak saw the frantic whispered conversation, but he managed to keep his expression blank to greet each of the faces arriving in front of him.
He paid little attention to most, save for the sad-eyed Corlyn, the head of the pastoral branch of the cult who administered the rural shrines and temples. He showed no signs of being affected by his God's rage. Instead, the gentle-spirited old man had an expression of awful disappointment on his face; he knew some sort of deal had been brokered by the High Cardinal's manner and was wounded by the ease with which Isak had apparently acceded to Echer's demands.
Of the suzerains, he greeted several as warmly as he could, but his mind was elsewhere. The Corlyn's distress had turned his heart cold and made him immediately regret the deal he would have to swallow. The measures would doubtless be so drastic that even a compromise would be terrible. A voice at the back of his mind told him he'd made a hash of offering his condolences to Suzerain Torl. The ageing warrior had lost both family and hurscals to violent clashes with bands of penitents, all because he had been revealed to be a Dark Monk, one of the deeply religious Brethren of the Sacred Teachings. Isak's only consolation was that Torl had been too distracted to take offence. He had quickly replaced the colours of his mourning: the hood he had pushed back only when greeting his lord was red, for a death in battle.
Isak's mood was further darkened by the grim news brought by Suzerain Saroc, Torl's friend and fellow member of the Brethren. Saroc was as far from the image of a Dark Monk as could be, clad as he was in silks of white, yellow and gold, but his round face bore no trace of his customary grin as he knelt in front of Isak.
'My Lord, I hear from Tor Milist that Duke Vrerr has grown pious,' he said hurriedly, his voice tight with anger. 'Normally I'd applaud such a thing, but the man's a fucking cockroach who'd do anything to save his own skin. From what I hear he's made contact with someone within the cult of Death — and that's the reason they have so many novices and penitents looking like experienced mercenaries. He's terrified you're going to march south and sweep him up as you expand the border to include Helrect and whatever's left of Scree. He knows he can't fight off a full-scale assault on Tor Milist, so his mercenaries are better employed to divide us and create civil war here instead.'