DemonWars Saga Volume 1 (239 page)

"I have just informed Constance that we shall delay the trials of Shamus and the others until after the Church completes its inquisition and sentencing," Danube replied at length. "And we shall show mercy to our prisoners. Perhaps we will even find a way to exonerate some of them completely, thus casting a dark shadow on the previous actions of the vengeful Church."

"And what of Nightbird, Pony, and Bradwarden?" Kalas asked. "And what of the captured monks?"

"The monks are not our affair," King Danube was quick to respond. "If Markwart chooses to execute them —and I am certain that he shall—then let the populace judge his actions."

"And the others?" Constance asked.

The King paused for a long moment. "Again, we shall let Markwart do as he sees fit with them," he replied. Constance shook her head, and Duke Kalas growled and banged his fist against the wall.

"If he executes them —" the King began.

"Which he surely shall," said Constance.

The King nodded. "But if the true story of Mount Aida then begins to circulate, if after the executions, the people of Palmaris come to see that Nightbird, Pony, and Bradwarden were not criminals but heroes, then Father Abbot Markwart must surely shoulder the vast amount of blame."

Now both Constance and Kalas were nodding, though their expressions remained grim. Neither liked the idea of sacrificing innocent people, but both understood the pragmatism of King Danube's position.

"In the meantime," the King went on. "I shall appoint Targon Bree Kalas, Duke of Wester-Honce, as baron of Palmaris."

"But there is already a Bishop," Kalas reasoned.

"If Markwart can declare both a bishop and an abbot of St. Precious, then I can justify the appointment of a baron," the King replied. "Markwart cannot oppose me on this, nor can he deny the demand of the new baron that he take residence at Chasewind Manor."

"And the Bishop?" Duke Kalas asked slyly, liking this plan more and more by the second.

"Let us find a powerful merchant who owes us a favor to come north and make a claim that he is a relative of Aloysius Crump. Let us see if we can force the Church from both mansions and put them back in St. Precious where they belong."

That won the approval of both advisers. The King would oppose Markwart, but quietly, and while none liked the idea that several apparently innocent people would be sacrificed for the sake of expediency, all three understood that Markwart's present course might well turn many folk against him.

That position was reinforced later that same day, when Captain Al'u'met arrived at the house of Crump. When the man was granted an immediate audience with the King and his advisers, he begged for royal intervention on behalf of Pony and her friends, declaring they were innocent, indeed were heroes.

None of the folk in the room doubted the man's words, but neither did anyone believe that Al'u'met would find opportunity to make those claims heard during the trial of the supposed conspirators against the Church. Yet, when the seaman left, ultimately frustrated, Danube and his advisers were even more hopeful that Markwart was making a mistake, and that, in the end, the Church would lose favor with the common folk of Palmaris.

But those hopes, even if they came to fruition, would prove of little value to Elbryan, Pony and their friends.

Roger's heart sank even lower at the sight of the Fellowship Way. Once one of the most respected taverns in Palmaris, the place now lay quiet and dark, with no patrons and no staff. Roger had hoped that Belster could provide some information valuable to him and Juraviel, some way perhaps that they might be able to get to their friends.

But there was no Belster to be found. No one at all.

With a shake of his head, the forlorn man moved down the street and into an alley, where he was to meet Belli'mar Juraviel after the elf finished scouting St. Precious.

Prim O'Bryen and Heathcomb Mallory, disguised as incoherent drunks, watched Roger.

"Ye think that's the one?" Mallory asked, for Belster, suspecting and hoping that Roger might show up, had placed them in this very spot. Both men knew Roger from their time in the north before the defeat of the dactyl's army, though they couldn't get a good enough look at the small form now as the man rushed away.

"Worth asking," Prim O'Bryen replied. The two glanced around to make sure that no soldiers or monks were about, then followed the man, stopping at the edge of the alley and carefully peering around. With no one else in sight, the two took a chance and approached.

Roger's face brightened, for he recognized the two men from the north, and they him. Less than an hour later, he came face-to-face with Belster O'Comely in the hold of the
Saudi Jacintha.

"Markwart's got them both," Roger explained, and the innkeeper was nodding with every word, for his network of spies had provided every detail about the disposition of the prisoners.

"Captain Al'u'met went to the King himself," Belster replied, indicating the tall black man.

Roger regarded Belster's friend, whom he had just met.

"I believe the King to be sympathetic," Al'u'met said, "but he'll not go against the Father Abbot. Our friends will find no help from the Crown."

"They are doomed," Belster added.

"We have to get them out," Roger said determinedly, but his tone did little to bolster the confidence of his companions.

"If we gathered every ally and convinced them of our cause, and went unified against St. Precious, we would all be dead on the street within a matter of moments," Al'u'met answered. "You make the same mistake as Jilseponie, I fear. You believe that we can fight openly against the Church, but that, my friend, will bring nothing but disaster."

"Are we to let them die?" Roger asked, aiming the painful question at Belster.

"If we get ourselves killed trying to help them, then know that they will feel their own deaths far more painfully," the innkeeper replied.

"Their fates are not sealed," Roger growled. "I came into Palmaris beside Belli'mar Juraviel. He'll not stand idly by while his friends are murdered!"

The name of Juraviel did bring a glimmer of hope to Belster's sad eyes. The innkeeper looked to Al'u'met. "Juraviel of the Touel'alfar," he explained, "an elf friend of Nightbird and Pony."

"Elf," Al'u'met echoed, and he, too, managed a slightly hopeful smile. Captain Al'u'met knew Juraviel, or had seen the elf with Elbryan, Pony, and Bradwarden, when he'd ferried them across the Masur Delaval. The captain did not understand the Touel'alfar, knew practically nothing about them other than Juraviel's appearance, but from Roger's determination and Belster's somewhat hopeful smile, he, too, dared to hope that perhaps all was not lost.

At the same time as the meeting in the hold of the
Saudi Jacintha,
Belli'mar Juraviel made his way along the corridors of the house of Crump. Juraviel had taken the same secret route into the place Dasslerond had used to meet with the King; and when he had first entered, the elf had considered going to speak privately with King Danube.

But that he could not do, he realized, for the lady had forbade him to interfere. Still, feeling that he had to do something for his friends, the elf had not left the place, but had slipped down into the bowels of the old house. An elvish trick got him by the half-asleep guards, and his size allowed him to fit through a fireplace and into the chimney network, moving to the musty cellar and large room where Colleen, Shamus, and the other soldiers were being held.

They milled about the cellar unchained, but unarmed, with no chance of escape. A single stairway led to the one heavy door above, and that, Juraviel knew, was heavily barred.

The elf stayed out of sight for some time, listening, taking a measure of the group, particularly of Colleen, whom he had learned had been a companion of Pony. The other soldiers knew of Tiel'marawee, so, trusting their reaction, Juraviel came out of the chimney, announcing his presence quietly.

"I am Belli'mar Juraviel," he explained, "a friend of Nightbird, and," he added, looking Colleen in the eye, "of Pony."

The soldiers scrambled to encircle the elf.

"Have ye seen her?" Colleen asked him. The woman was the most unnerved of the group, for though she had heard much of the Touel'alfar —of Juraviel, in fact—she had never before seen an elf.

"Or Nightbird?" Shamus added. "How fares Nightbird?"

"They are in St. Precious," Juraviel explained. "And there I have not yet dared to venture. I fear the power of the monks and their gemstones."

"There is no one to trust," Shamus said gravely. "For those who believe in us have not the power, nor the courage, to stand with us. I only hope that King Danube will let me speak before passing judgment over me and my men, and I trust that he shall. But for Nightbird and Pony and the others in the clutches of Father Abbot Markwart, alas!"

"Then speak your words as loudly as you are allowed," Juraviel insisted. "For even if they will not help our friends, they will assure that Nightbird and Pony have not died in vain."

"Tell him of the miracle," another soldier prompted, and Shamus Kilronney recounted the tale of the goblin battle atop Mount Aida, the same story Roger had told the elf on their journey to Palmaris.

"Keep well that tale," Juraviel replied, and, hearing some noise outside, he turned back for the fireplace. Colleen Kilronney went with him.

"Brother Talumus," she whispered as the elf slipped into the chimney, "a monk of St. Precious. He is a friend, perhaps."

The conversation ended before she could give a proper description, for the door banged open and a host of Allheart soldiers came down the stairs, bearing trays of food.

By the time Roger found Juraviel in the alley near the Fellowship Way, the elf had already visited St. Precious, though he had not ventured in and had not found Brother Talumus. The two went back to the
Saudi Jacintha,
and Belster O'Comely assured them both that finding the monk would not be difficult. The innkeeper added a stern warning, though, that if this Abellican monk learned too much about them and could not be trusted, he would not be allowed to leave.

The very next night, Roger met with Brother Talumus, with Juraviel joining the conversation from the shadows at the sides of the alley. Again the monk showed his reluctance to take any overt action against the Church, though he admitted his uneasiness with the trial and expected executions, even going so far as to declare the Father Abbot wrong on this issue when prodded hard enough by Juraviel.

"Then make a difference," the elf demanded. "Find a way to help us. If we are caught, then your name will not be uttered, I assure you. If we succeed, or if we do not, Brother Talumus can sleep with conscience clear."

"You speak fine words," the monk replied, peering into the shadows, though he could not get a glimpse of the elusive Juraviel. "Yet you misunderstand me. You think that I am afraid for my own life, but that is not the case. What I fear is doing harm to my Church, for that I cannot tolerate. I am not the only one who believes that this situation has become terrible, and hardly godly. At least one master —" The monk stopped abruptly, and it was obvious that he did not want to break a confidence.

"You do not wish to harm your Church," Juraviel said from the shadows. "Yet, how will aiding innocents bring such harm? If the Church is worth following, then should not such an action strengthen it?"

"You twist my words," Talumus argued, but he was clearly coming to understand that he could not sit back and let these terrible executions happen.

By the time he left the alley, the plan had been formed.

But by the time Brother Talumus walked in through the great doors of St. Precious Abbey, he knew that he would not have the strength to see it through. Wracked with guilt, the confused young man went to the only superior he felt he could trust, seeking the blessing of Penitence, betraying himself, and, at gentle prodding, his friends.

Brother Talumus felt better when he left that meeting, but the master who had bestowed the blessing, Master Theorelle Engress, surely did not. For the second time in a few short months, Engress had heard a story of conspiracy and complicity, a tearing of heart against Markwart-directed precept, of conscience against rank. For many weeks, the gentle master had sat back and watched as the Father Abbot had taken the Church in a new, dominating direction, rolling roughshod over anyone who stood in his way. Now they were approaching the pinnacle of that Church ascent, and that height would be reached on top of the bodies of innocents.

Engress had heard enough. He went back to Brother Talumus that same night, and the younger man was surprised by what the aged master had in mind.

"He offered amnesty to Castinagis, Dellman, and Viscenti if they would speak against you at your trial," Brother Braumin told Elbryan that same night, the monk returned to his cell after the swift and brutal interrogation by Markwart.

"And what of Brother Braumin?" the ranger asked.

"No amnesty," the monk replied, and to Elbryan, his voice did not sound heavy. "I will confess and implicate you, Pony, and Bradwarden, because I will be tortured until I do so. But no matter what I say, I will die right after you three are convicted. Markwart did offer me a quick death if I spoke against you, but nothing more."

The ranger pitied the man, though he understood that his own end would be just as terrible.

"But all three have vowed not to speak against you," Brother Braumin added firmly. "They understand, as do I, as did Jojonah, that to deny our cause and our beliefs is to strengthen Markwart."

"The alternative for those three is death," the ranger reminded. "Yet they can save their lives with a few words."

"We all die, Nightbird," the monk replied calmly, "every man and every woman. Better to die young, with principles intact, than to live out a life that is a lie. What guilt would a man who goes so directly against his heart have to carry through the years? What life worth living might he find? You must understand the process of becoming an Abellican monk, the dedication and the faith. No man who fears death could have ever walked through the gates of St.-Mere-Abelle in the robes of an Abellican initiate."