“They’re guests of the city,” he said evenly. And then added, ever so quietly, “My guests.”
She dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. “They pose a danger to us, my lord Regent, and therefore they must be taken into custody. I’m sure you can understand the necessity of that.”
He kept his voice calm, his face carefully neutral. It wasn’t easy. “What I understand is that you’ve already gone after them, your Holiness. Your guards have taken over my home and office; are you telling me you need my permission before going any further? A curious time to be drawing that distinction.”
“We did what was necessary,” she said curtly. “No insult was intended. We had to move quickly so as not to alarm them.”
“In which I assume you succeeded?”
Uncharacteristically, she hesitated. “No,” she said at last. “Both of them were out when my people arrived. I was hoping you knew where they might be.”
“They’re free to come and go as they please,” he reminded her. “Or were, until this morning. Nor did they usually inform me of their plans.” They were guests, not prisoners. He felt anger surfacing; he did his best to fight it back. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
For a long moment she stared at him. He expected to feel the dizziness he associated with her power, but for once he was spared that ordeal. “All right,” she said at last. “Their possessions are still in the Manor, which means they’ll most likely come back there. I want them apprehended. You ken? Your guards or mine, as long as they’re taken.”
“On what legal pretext?” he asked calmly.
Her eyes narrowed to amber slits. “A vision from God, Andir. A revelation. These people are evil, and they mean us great harm. They must be arrested immediately, so that the Matrias can deal with them. Pick whatever law you want to support your action, as long as you take them. Soon. That is the Will of the Lord. I—”
She was interrupted by a gentle rapping on the door. “Yes? What is it?”
The attendant entered the room. “Begging your Holiness’ pardon, this message just carrie.” He stepped forward and handed a folded square of paper to her, then bowed deeply as he exited. She took it and unfolded it quickly; Toshida made out the scrawl of hurried writing on its face.
Her expression of anger was more a hiss than a curse. “Two sailors from the Golden Glory came to the Manor to collect the priest’s and the woman’s possessions. They claimed to know nothing of their whereabouts, were merely responding to instructions given some time ago. The guards, having no orders to the contrary, let them proceed.” She looked up at Toshida. “If they’re on that ship, I want them. If they’re not on it yet, then take them when they get there. Ken verda?”
He bowed ever so slightly. A minimal gesture. “As you command, your Holiness.”
“I know this is an unusual order, Andir. But these are unusual circumstances. We took a chance letting the foreigners land here, and perhaps we moved too quickly.” Perhaps you moved too quickly, was the unspoken criticism. It was your decision to let them live. “Just get those two into custody, whatever it takes. We can work out the legalities of it later, when they’re no longer capable of harming us. Free, they threaten . . . everything.”
“Yes, Matria.” His tone was humble, but inside his thoughts were seething. A Sanctified woman and a priest. What harm could they possibly do? Unless you fear the knowledge they bring with them, of places where leadership is based on deeds, not visions. Is that it? Is it not them that you fear, but what they may do to your people? What they may awaken in me?
“As you command,” he told her. Because there was nothing else to say, no other way to proceed. For now, his duty was to serve her will. Even when he didn’t fully understand it. Even when he might not agree.
For now.
The captain of the Golden Glory was annotating his log when the crewman came to him.
“He’s here,” the man said simply.
He closed the leather-bound book and locked it. “Toshida?”
The sailor nodded.
With a sigh he rose up, muttering a prayer to his new-found God. Not that this one was likely to help him; wasn’t that the whole point? He noted with some curiosity, as he left the wheelhouse, that it didn’t really bother him. In fact, it was oddly reassuring to think that his fate was totally—and permanently—in his control.
Toshida was waiting by the boarding ladder, just as Damien had said he would be. Whatever guards or aides de camp he might have brought with him were still down in the boat, out of sight and hearing. That was good. Men who had to save face in front of their inferiors were a lot more dangerous.
Rozca made sure that none of his own people were nearby, then greeted the Lord Regent. “Your Eminence. This is an honor. What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for two people. I believe they may be on board.”
“Two of my passengers? Or crew?”
“A priest named Damien Vryce. And a Sanctified woman who accompanies him. Have you seen them?”
Then again, Rozca thought, sometimes it’s nice to have a god help out. Just to smooth things over a bit.
A man could get himself killed on his own.
“No,” he said at last. Committing himself. Knowing what the result would be. “No, I haven’t.”
“But you sent for their things. Verda?”
He shrugged. “His Reverence asked me to. Said they might want to travel. I didn’t ask for details.”
“So you’re expecting them.”
He shrugged again.
He could feel the anger rising from the man, like heat off a sun-baked sidewalk. “Yes or no; Captain Rozca.”
“Lord Regent. With all due respect, Father Vryce and his friends are free to come and go as they please. Without reporting to you, me, or anyone else. Isn’t that the case?”
“Yes or no, Captain Rozca.”
He met the man’s gaze head-on, coarse bravado versus polished stubbornness. A lifetime at sea and in coastal barrooms had taught him how to stare a man into the dirt, and he applied that skill now with relish.
“Sorry,” he said curtly. “Can’t help you.”
“You’re making a serious mistake,” Toshida warned.
“Maybe,” Rozca agreed, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “But it’s my right to make it.”
“I could search the ship, verda? I’d get my answer then.”
Rozca spat on the deck; not because he felt the need to, but because it seemed an appropriate gesture. “Yeah. You go ahead and do that. But before you start, make sure I get a copy of your Writ of Search and Seizure—that is the right document, isn’t it?—because now that we have visas proper we’re subject to all your laws, aren’t we? Including protection of privacy. At least that’s how I understand it.” He paused. “And if I remember your constitution aright, not even the Lord Regent of the Five Cities is above the law of the land. Verda?”
The narrowed eyes fixed on him, dark with fury. It might have driven back a lesser man, but Rozca stood his ground. Praying, as he did so, that Damien had guessed right about their legal system. If not . . . well, then they were all in really deep shit now. Starting with him.
At last the Regent snapped, “I’ll be back.” And without further word he lowered himself down over the side, and onto the boarding ladder.
Rozca felt himself breathe a sigh of relief as he watched the man descend to his waiting boat. Not that it was over yet, but at least the worst part was done with. The part he had dreaded the most.
When the small boat was safely in the distance, he turned to look for his pilot and first mate, only to discover that they were already beside him. Waiting.