DemonWars Saga Volume 1 (194 page)

"There is a long tradition of tolerance in the Abellican Order, but rarely does it extend to those who threaten the very fabric of the Order."

"And that is my pain," Francis explained, "for I understand the importance of keeping the Order secure and united. I agree with the Father Abbot —and even if I did not, I would not oppose him! Never that."

"But you could not bear to watch any more executions of your fellow monks," Engress stated.

Francis had no response to that.

"Do you believe what you have done is evil?"

"Which act do you mean?" Francis asked.

"That is for you to decide," Master Engress replied. "You came here asking for the blessing of Penitence, and perhaps I can bestow that upon you, but only if you tell me that for which you are asking Penitence."

Francis held up his hands, completely at a loss. "I have told my tale in full," he said.

"Indeed you have," Engress agreed, "but your tale shows a pendulum's swing of actions. For the Father Abbot, against the Father Abbot."

"And is he to be the measure of Godly crime?"

"Again, my brother, that is for you to decide. If you came here asking for forgiveness of your actions against Father Abbot Markwart, then I am afraid you are speaking to the wrong man. Unless those actions, in your heart, are also crimes against God, you will have to plead with the Father Abbot for his forgiveness, for I cannot speak for him. If you came seeking forgiveness of your actions on the road, then I, like Jojonah, will bestow the blessing, because it is obvious that you are truly sorry for those actions and because you are not wholly to blame.

"If you came seeking Penitence for your actions concerning Brother Braumin, then I must ask you to return when you have decided if those actions were indeed a crime against God, and if so, were they malicious or wrought of cowardice?"

Brother Francis sat quietly for a long while, trying to take in what Engress had said, and trying to decide what his reasons for each really were. Finally, too confused to work it out here, he looked helplessly at Master Engress. "For the attack against Grady Chilichunk," he said quietly, the only one of those questions he could honestly answer.

"Penitence was already given," Master Engress replied, rising from his seat and helping Francis to his feet as well. "So let your heart be free of that burden. If you decide there are any other burdens that need lifting, then do return to speak with me. But be quick to find your heart, young brother," he said with a smile, "I am an old, old man, and I might be gone from this world before you ever sort things out!"

He gave Francis a pat on the back as he ushered him to the corridor, then moved to close his door.

"I trust that this will remain confidential?" Francis asked, turning back to face Engress.

Engress reassured him. "It is a sacred blessing, a pact between you and God. I cannot speak of it because I, the mortal Master Engress, was not even present at your confession."

Francis nodded and walked away.

Engress stood in the doorway and watched him until he turned a bend in the corridor. The old man stood there, overwhelmed by the information Francis had given him. He had played his part in the blessing perfectly, detached and calm, the eyes and ears of God.

Almost perfectly, Engress had to admit after a few moments. He thought that Acts of Amends, a method of contrition and repayment to society, were needed for the death of Grady Chilichunk. Engress had to scold himself now —and promise his own Acts of Amends—because the reason he had not ordered any from Brother Francis was the practical matter of not wanting to draw attention to this meeting. If Father Abbot Markwart, who always kept Francis at his elbow, saw the monk performing Acts of Amends, then many dangerous questions might be asked. Engress had not acted exactly as his religion demanded, and that troubled him, as it always did when matters of practicality took precedence over the pure practice of his religion.

And now he had another problem, for though Engress the monk would not divulge to anyone what Francis had told him, Engress the man was shocked. To think that such a conspiracy had begun in St.-Mere-Abelle! To think that young brothers of the Abellican Order, good men every one, had met in private to question the decisions of the Father Abbot, perhaps even to plot against him!

And yet, considering the war, the events at St. Precious and in the dungeons of St.-Mere-Abelle, and most of all, the horrible execution of Master Jojonah, Engress could understand that men of good conscience would band together to oppose the very Order itself. Engress had been a friend of Jojonah's, and though he had no evidence to refute the charges Markwart had leveled against him, he could not, in his heart, reconcile the Jojonah he had known with the heretic Markwart claimed he was.

"You grab your power too tightly, Dalebert Markwart," the old monk whispered. "And thus do many followers squeeze through your fingers."

Feeling very weary and very old indeed, Master Theorelle Engress closed his door. He knelt beside the bed and said a prayer for guidance.

Then he added one for Brother Francis.

Then he added one for Brother Braumin and his companions.

"The departure of Jilseponie weighs heavily on us all," Tomas said somberly, "as does the departure of Shamus Kilronney and his worthy soldiers. But neither event has changed our destination, of course, especially since you have declared that you still intend to accompany us."

"I will indeed," the ranger replied with an exasperated sigh, growing close to frustration, for Tomas had been dancing around his main point for many minutes now, carefully feeling Elbryan out.

"And the weather has been favorable," Tomas went on, "save the one storm. And even those snows were quick to melt away."

Elbryan shook his head and stared at Tomas, his expression speaking clearly that Tomas should get on with it!

"Some folk have been whispering that we should begin our journey," the big man finally admitted —no surprise to the ranger. "They are saying that we could have made Dundalis already and had more than a fair share of shelters constructed, if we had left soon after the supplies had been offered by Comli and the others."

The ranger chuckled at the predictable hindsight. Indeed, they could have long ago reached Dundalis, and, unless they found many monsters blocking their path, could have put up enough shelters and stored enough firewood to survive the harshest of winters. But they could not have known that the mild weather would hold. Winter storms often rolled up the coast, settling for a long stay in the Gulf of Corona, dumping many inches of sleet and rain on the coastal regions and many feet of snow inland. If a storm had caught Tomas' caravan on the road, Elbryan, who had lived most of his life in this region, knew that the few who survived would have been forced to turn back for Caer Tinella.

"The ground is nearly frozen," Tomas reasoned, "and it remains clear of snow."

"Down here, at least," said the ranger. "We do not know what we might find a hundred miles to the north."

"Likely the same," Tomas replied without hesitation. "You admitted as much yourself."

Elbryan nodded, conceding the point. He and Juraviel and Bradwarden had found no signs of inclement weather farther north.

"And if we wait until Bafway, we'll likely find our wagon wheels sinking deep into the spring mud," Tomas went on.

"And if we leave now and a great storm rises against us?" Elbryan asked bluntly.

"And who is to argue that such a storm could not find us even in the spring?" Tomas countered.

Elbryan wanted to argue, wanted to remind the man that spring storms, however deep the snow, were rarely as dangerous as winter storms, since the weather soon after a spring storm almost always turned warm, melting a foot of snow in a few hours. And it wasn't just the snow that Tomas and the other should fear, the ranger realized, for the temperature could plummet in the winter, leaving a man frozen on the ground —even if that ground was not covered in snow.

"If we had left after the first storm of the season —the only storm of the season," Tomas went on, "we would be settled now, cozy in Dundalis. I am thinking, and so are many others, that it is worth the try now. The weather holds and shows no sign of changing. With the ground hard and Nightbird to guide us, we can be in Dundalis in a week, bringing enough wood with us to build a few shelters, and with plenty left to burn against winter's bite, should it ever come."

Elbryan stared hard at the man. He had plenty of practical arguments against Tomas. But they would fall on deaf ears, he knew, and, in truth, he wasn't sure that he wanted to dissuade Tomas.

Not this time.

Pony was gone, and all he wanted was to be back in her arms. Perhaps if he gave Tomas his wish and led them to Dundalis now, before Decambria had ended and the year had turned to the month of Progos, he would have discharged his responsibility to the caravan long before the end of winter. The ranger smiled as he fantasized about surprising Pony in Palmaris before the turn of spring.

That smile disappeared when he looked at Tomas, fearing that he was agreeing only for selfish reasons, perhaps to the detriment of those hardy souls who would make the journey north.

In truth, though, that very morning both Bradwarden and Juraviel had made similar arguments to Elbryan for setting off at once for the northland, all realizing that Tomas had asked to speak with him precisely for that purpose.

"You understand that I can guarantee nothing?" the ranger asked.

Tomas smiled widely.

"If a storm catches us —"

"We're tougher than you are supposing," Tomas replied.

The ranger gave a great, defeated sigh, and Tomas followed the cue with a heartfelt belly laugh.

"I can guarantee nothing," Elbryan repeated somberly. "We can find and destroy, or avoid, any monsters, I believe, but I cannot make the same claims concerning the whims of nature."

"She'll stay calm and inviting," Tomas assured him. "I feel it in my old bones."

Elbryan nodded, and then he said the words that Tomas Gingerwart and so many others had been aching to hear for so many days. "Pack up."

Pony crouched at the corner of the gatehouse, watching the spectacle at the Palmaris docks. The ferry had just come in, crowded with folk from the town of Amvoy across the Masur Delaval, and now the Palmaris city soldiers and a pair of monks from St. Precious jostled the newcomers, inspecting their goods, barking questions at them. Every day it got worse.

Pony had been in the city for more than a week. After she'd seen similar problems at the north gate when she'd arrived, she entered the city secretly at night, using malachite to boost her and Greystone right over a little-guarded position along the city wall. What a thrilling ride that had been, cantering Greystone into a great leap and using the levitational powers of the gemstone to let them soar far above and beyond the ten-foot wall!

After arranging board for Greystone at a stable on the city's north end, Pony had gone straight to the thriving Fellowship Way, finding Belster O'Comely along with a woman, Dainsey Aucomb, who had come on to help the Chilichunks years before, when Pony had been indentured in the army. Several others from up north were at the Way as well, some working, others patrons; and at first Pony was afraid that being recognized by so many could lead to serious trouble. Belster had taken care of that, though, calling a quick meeting and helping Pony to change her identity. Now she was Carralee dan Aubrey, a combination of the names of a friend and her infant niece, both of whom had been killed during the original goblin raid on Dundalis many years before.

Only then did Pony appreciate how organized Belster and his friends were. Such an underground brotherhood had become necessary, he explained, because of the policies of the new head of the abbey of St. Precious, Abbot De'Unnero. Some were already whispering that he was not merely the abbot of St. Precious but also bishop of Palmaris, a title that conferred the powers of both abbot and baron. That notion terrified Pony, for in a world where edicts from King and Father Abbot could take weeks to arrive, such a position gave De'Unnero, in effect, the powers of a dictator.

Now that she had settled into the routines of Fellowship Way, Pony had been going out each day to witness the events about the town, particularly near the gates and the docks, where the changes seemed most acute.

Palmaris was a fortified city, but primarily it was a trading city, a port at the mouth of the great river, the hub for any merchants operating in the northwest of Honce-the-Bear. As such, the city gates had always been only lightly guarded, but now. . .

The reason given for the increase in security was the deaths of both Abbot Dobrinion and Baron Bildeborough. But from what Elbryan had told her, and everything she had witnessed of De'Unnero, and everything Jojonah had told her, she knew De'Unnero knew the Church had been intimately involved as well in the murder of Baron Bildeborough. This made it clear to Pony that De'Unnero was using the fear of the Palmaris populace only to increase his power. He was using the murders as an excuse to solidify his own position.

Pony thought about the implications of De'Unnero's new title for a long while. Church and state power united in one man. Seeing the soldiers working with the monks now at the ferry sent a shiver along her spine.

When about half the travelers were allowed to enter Palmaris but the other half put back on the boat to return to Amvoy, the soldiers and monks turned their attention elsewhere. On their way off the docks, they paused long enough to taunt and heckle, even spit at, a group of Behrenese youngsters who were playing a game on a street. The southern dock section of Palmaris had been an enclave for the Behrenese for many decades. In all the years Pony had lived in Palmaris, the Behrenese, even the yatol priests, had been viewed with compassion and brotherhood by the city's folk, particularly by the monks of St. Precious, who would often be seen down by the docks with armloads of food and clothing, helping any new Behrenese arrivals settle comfortably in the strange city.

How the times had changed! But it wasn't just the poor folk living by the docks, or the less-connected travelers trying to get into the city who were having trouble with the new policies.

Pony made her way quickly across Palmaris, into the hilly section on the city's west side where the wealthier citizens resided. In the Way the night before, one of Belster's contacts had mentioned some strange happenings in this area, something Pony had just confirmed when she'd overheard a man at the ferry dock.

It didn't take Pony long to see what Belster's informant and the man at the docks were talking about. She saw a group of about a dozen city soldiers and three Abellican monks walking boldly down the middle of Bildeborough Way, the main avenue in this section of Palmaris. Fortunately, Pony saw them before they spotted her, and ducked behind a hedgerow — which were quite common in this wealthy part of the city. Hardly daring to breathe, Pony berated herself for coming here physically instead of simply using her soul stone and spiritually spying on the region.

Then as the group neared, she realized one of the monks was using a red gemstone.

"Garnet," she whispered under her breath. Garnet, the Dragon Sight, the stone used to detect the emanations of magic. This group was out in search of magic stones!

Pony watched as they stopped at a gate, one of the soldiers slapping his metal gauntlet against the large entry bell. A pair of house guards appeared almost immediately. Within seconds, the sound of the exchange became loud enough that Pony, though she was several doors away, could make out the words.

"We'll not stand here and argue with mere merchant bodyguards," the soldier who had slapped the bell declared. "Open wide the gate, by order of the bishop of Palmaris, or we shall trample it down, and trample, too, any who stand before us."

"And do not think that your master will protect you with his tricks of magic," another soldier interjected. "We have brothers of St. Precious with us who are more than able to defeat any such attacks."

A bit more prodding, a bit more yelling, and finally the house guards opened the gate. They asked that only one or two men enter to speak with their master, but the whole group shoved past them. They emerged a few minutes later, a middle-aged man in a rich robe in their midst. One of the monks caught Pony's attention, for he was holding a large headdress —a crown of sorts—set with many glittering gemstones.

She realized that some of those stones must have magical properties, for she had heard that merchants often bought stones from the Church and, using alchemists and other stones, converted them into magical items. This merchant's crown no doubt carried strong magical energy, and that, she believed, was what had led the group to his door. Glad indeed was Pony that she had not come out here spiritually!

The group went past —and Pony breathed easier—heading west down the wide street in the direction of Chasewind Manor, formerly the home of the ruling Bildeborough family but now, by all accounts, the residence of Abbot—Bishop De'Unnero.

"So strange," Pony whispered to herself as she made her way back to the more crowded central areas of the city. She told herself that there might be many reasons De'Unnero would seek out magic use in this dangerous time so soon after the end of the war and so soon after the deaths of the two former city leaders. But she suspected the search through the city had another quarry.

The Bishop was looking for her.

"Cousin, if you are wise —though I know that you are not—you will dismiss your anger before we arrive at Chasewind Manor," Shamus Kilronney said to Colleen. The two hadn't even passed through the northern gate of Palmaris when some of the sentries had begun blabbering about the many changes that had taken place in the city. Shamus and Colleen had gone straight off to St. Precious to speak with the new abbot, but they had been turned away and pointedly told to return to their assigned quarters and await a summons.

Then came the long wait, and it was all that Shamus could handle merely keeping Colleen in check. As each rumor filtered out to them —the abbot had been appointed Bishop, which gave him all the powers of abbot and baron; the man had taken up residence at Chasewind Manor; Colleen's soldiers were being used as escorts for missions of the Church—both Shamus and Colleen became more and more uneasy. For Colleen in particular, still upset by the death of her beloved Baron, this new turn of events was almost more than she could take.

Finally, more than a week after their return to Palmaris, the pair was summoned to Chasewind Manor, to report to Bishop Marcalo De'Unnero. They were met in the courtyard by a host of monks. There they waited for more than an hour. Other prominent soldiers filtered in, and then came a great carriage, which Shamus recognized as one of the King's own. The captain didn't know the names of the two men who stepped out, but he did know that they were from the court of King Danube, important emissaries indeed.

They strode past the group outside without a word, not even a nod to the Kingsmen captain.

"And how long do ye mean to keep us waitin'?" Colleen asked loudly before the men had entered the house. They simply ignored her, and so did the monks. In fact, the only response she received came from her nervous cousin.

"They will keep us waiting as long as it suits the noblemen," Shamus scolded. "You do not understand our place in this or the potential punishments if we do not hold to that place."

"Bah." Colleen snorted. "Ye'd have me bowin' and beggin'. Yes sir and no sir, and might I wipe the spit from yer chin, sir?"

"You do not understand the nobility."

"Been servin' the Baron for ten years," Colleen argued.

"But Rochefort Bildeborough was a man of Palmaris, not of the court of Danube Brock Ursal," Shamus warned. "These nobles will have your respect, or they will have your tongue —or worse!"

Colleen spat on the ground, very near the foot of the closest monk. She looked around at her fellow soldiers, many of whom had been house guards for the Bildeborough family, and took comfort in their grim expressions, understanding that they, too, were not pleased. All of them had served Rochefort Bildeborough for years; all of them had come to respect and even love the man as their leader.

A monk came out the front doors of the manor house, a scroll in hand. "Shamus Kilronney," he called. "Captain of the Kingsmen. And Colleen Kilronney of the city guard."

"Beware your treasonous temper," Shamus whispered as he and Colleen strode toward the man.

"And if I cannot control it, cousin, I'm sure ye'll cut me down," she replied with a snarl. "I'm just hopin' that I can get the imposter's head afore ye do!"

Shamus glared angrily at her.

"Ye just watch me do it," she said stubbornly, as if daring him to betray her.

The point proved moot, and Shamus breathed a bit easier, because inside the house, they were accosted by a group of armed soldiers —who were not known to Colleen—and many grim-faced Abellican monks who demanded their weapons. Shamus readily complied, for he knew only specially assigned guards were allowed any weapons at the King's court. Colleen slapped away one monk's hand as he reached for her weapon, then she drew out her sword threateningly. The monk jumped back into a fighting stance and several soldiers put their hands to sword hilts.

But Colleen only smiled and laughed, and flipped her weapon over, catching it at mid-blade and handing it over.

"I'll not fight on your side," Shamus warned quietly as they were escorted to the audience room.

"And ye're thinkin' that I'm not already knowin' as much?" Colleen replied dryly.

The audience room was large, but it did not seem so to the two, for many monks and soldiers and visiting nobles and merchants all clustered about, eyes aimed at the young, strong Bishop. Many heads did turn to glance without interest at the two soldiers, Shamus in his splendid Kingsmen dress and Colleen in her weathered traveling outfit.

"I do say, it is not difficult to discern which of these two comes from the court of the King," said one of the visiting Ursal nobles with a sniff.

The Bishop waved at the man to be quiet, locking stares with Shamus and then with Colleen.

The man was impressive, Colleen had to admit, his stare strong and intense. This first meeting quickly became a contest of wills, the two staring, unblinking, as many moments slipped past.

Finally, Bishop De'Unnero dropped his eyes to regard the Kingsman. "You are Shamus Kilronney?" he asked. "Captain Kilronney?"

The man straightened his shoulders. "I am, sir."

"Very good," said De'Unnero. "You have been told of my appointed position?"

Shamus nodded.

"And do you, both of you," he added quickly, glancing back at Colleen, "understand the meaning of my title?"

"I'm thinkin' that it means there be no more Bildeboroughs," Colleen remarked, drawing an elbow in the ribs from Shamus. But De'Unnero only laughed.