How Firm a Foundation (76 page)

“This is
not
a time to be suggesting there’s division between us, Rhobair,” Trynair said.

“Anybody who’s worrying about whether or not there’s ‘division’ between me and Zhaspahr Clyntahn on this issue has either already figured out there
is
one, or he’s such a drooling idiot he probably can’t put on his own
shoes
without assistance!” Duchairn replied. “And, frankly, if someone
does realize I’m … at odds, let’s say, with Zhaspahr Clyntahn over this … this ritualized
butchery
of his, that’s fine with me. Even
The Book of Schueler
reserves the full Punishment for genuine, unrepentant
heretics,
Zhamsyn—not for people who simply happen to have pissed Zhaspahr off by having the audacity to survive when he ordered them to lie down and die!”

He’d been wrong, Trynair realized.
Duchairn’s eyes weren’t tranquil; they were those of a man who didn’t
care
any longer. A chill went through the Chancellor as he realized that, and he felt something altogether too much like panic fluttering somewhere inside his chest.

“You told Zhaspahr—and me—you wouldn’t oppose him on this if we wouldn’t oppose you on the matters that were important to you,” he said carefully.

“And I have
no intention, to my shame, of openly opposing him. There are, however, limits to the stains I’m prepared to accept upon my soul. This is one of them. You and I both know any ‘confessions’ of heresy or blasphemy or—God help us all!—Shan-wei worship were gotten out of those men only by torture, and eight in ten of them
died
rather than perjure themselves to suit Zhaspahr’s purposes. Do you truly
have any concept at all of the courage it took to
defy
that kind of savagery?! They may be schismatics, but they are
not
blasphemers, idolaters, or demon-worshippers, and they
damned
well haven’t sacrificed any children to Shan-wei, and you know that as well as I do! So if my refusal to participate in his vengeance upon men whose only
true
crime was to defeat his unprovoked attack on their families
and their homeland incenses him so completely that he chooses to make our breach public, so be it.”

“Rhobair, you can’t
survive
if that happens. If he openly turns against you, denounces you, you’ll go exactly the same way these Charisians are about to!”

“I could be in worse company,” Duchairn said flatly, his voice cold. “In fact, I’m inclined to think I couldn’t be in
better
company. Unfortunately,
I’m no longer as certain as I once was that my
eternal
destination is going to be the same as theirs. I can only pray it will.”

Trynair’s blood ran cold. He’d known Duchairn was becoming ever more embittered, ever more sickened, by Clyntahn’s policies, but this was the harshest, most unyielding denunciation of the Grand Inquisitor Duchairn had dared to voice even to him. And if the Treasurer
really pushed this, if it did result in an open break between him and the Grand Inquisitor, Trynair knew which of them would survive. In some ways, that might almost be a relief, yet with Duchairn gone, the Chancellor would be alone against Clyntahn with only the effective nonentity of Allayn Maigwair as a potential ally. Which meant.…

“Don’t
say
things like that!” he pled, waving both hands
in calming motions. “I know you’re angry, and I know this whole thing makes you sick at heart, but if you push Zhaspahr far enough and
you
go down, there’ll be nobody left to oppose him even slightly.” The Chancellor grimaced, his expression more than half-ashamed. “
I
won’t be able to, and I know it. Not now.”

“He has rather saddled the whirlwind for all of us to ride, hasn’t he?” Duchairn said
sardonically. “Why did we let him get away with it, do you think?” His eyes suddenly stabbed the Chancellor to the heart. “Because the notion of doing what we knew was right didn’t matter enough for us to bestir ourselves out of our luxurious little lives? Because we didn’t give a single good goddamn about our responsibilities to Mother Church? Was
that
the reason, Zahmsyn?”

“Don’t you dare try
that with me!” Trynair snapped. “Maybe that was the reason, but you were right there in the middle of it with the rest of us, Rhobair! You could’ve said ‘Stop!’ anytime you wanted to. Maybe it wouldn’t have accomplished anything, but you could have at least made the attempt, and you didn’t, did you? You didn’t even
try!
So now you’ve rediscovered your conscience. Fine! I’m happy for you! But don’t
you take your newfound piety and try to cram it down
my
throat! You’re so fucking proud of how
noble
you’ve become? Well, that’s fine. But if you think you’re going to
shame
me into standing beside you when Zhaspahr decides to have
you
put to the Question to ‘prove’ you’re just as heretical as Samyl Wylsynn ever was, you’ve got another think coming!”

“So you do have a little spine left,” Duchairn
said with a thin, cold smile. “Pity it didn’t turn up earlier. And before you start in again, no, I’m not trying to pretend I wasn’t just as spineless and just as blind to the consequences as you were when Zhaspahr launched us on this little disaster. I’ve never pretended I
wasn’t
those things. The difference between us is that, yes, I
am
ashamed of myself, and there are limits to the additional
complicity I’m willing to assume. And, frankly, I don’t really care if the thought of finding yourself all alone with Zhaspahr after I’m gone makes you feel threatened. I’m not looking for martyrdom, Zahmsyn. It might be better for my soul if I were, but I’m not prepared to go that far … yet, anyway. And I’m not going to have any public shouting matches with Zhaspahr. I undoubtedly should, but
you and I both know it would be a futile gesture. So you just run along back to him and Allayn. The three of you go and eat your fried potato slices at the spectacle this afternoon. Drink your beer and enjoy the entertainment. But I’m not going to be there, because I’ve got something a lot more pressing to spend my time on. I’m sure that if Zhaspahr and that loathsome slime toad Rayno want to know
where I am, they can ask Major Phandys. No doubt he’d be
delighted
to tell them. And if
you
want to tell him where I am, that’s fine with me too, because where I’ll be, Zahmsyn, is in the Temple praying for God’s forgiveness for
not
being out in that plaza denouncing Zhaspahr Clyntahn for the foul, sadistic murdering
bastard
he is!”

Rhobair Duchairn gave the Chancellor of the Church of God Awaiting
one more cold, stony glare and slammed out of the office. Trynair stared after him, shocked and stunned by the power of the Treasurer’s denunciation, and listened to the boots of Duchairn’s “personal guard,” clattering down the hallway behind Major Khanstahnzo Phandys as the lot of them tried to keep up with the furiously striding Treasurer.

*   *   *

“Well, I see Zahmsyn has finally deigned
to join us,” Zhaspahr Clyntahn said, watching from the central platform as the Chancellor slipped unobtrusively into the silent, watching ranks of the Church’s vicars. “Better late than never, I suppose. And where do you think our good friend Rhobair might be, Wyllym?”

“Somewhere else, Your Grace,” Wyllym Rayno replied with a sigh. “I’m afraid his absence is going to be remarked upon.”

“Of course
it is.” Clyntahn spoke from the corner of his mouth, lips scarcely moving as he looked out across the packed approaches to the Plaza of Martyrs. “That’s why the bastard’s
doing
it!”

“I agree, Your Grace, but I trust we’re not going to make the mistake of underestimating him.”

“Underestimate
Rhobair Duchairn?
” Clyntahn snorted. “That would be extraordinarily difficult to do, Wyllym! Oh, I’ll
grant you he’s got more guts than Trynair, not to mention five or six times as much brains as Maigwair ever had. In fact, let’s be honest—if there’s one of the other three who’d ever have the courage and the willingness to speak out against the jihad, it would have to be Duchairn. But he’s not ready for an open break. And the truth is that whatever he may think, he never
will
be.”

“I’m … inclined
to agree with you in most regards, Your Grace,” Rayno said, choosing his words with some care. “All the same, I can’t help thinking Vicar Rhobair has … changed a great deal over the last few years. I don’t think we can afford to overlook the possibility that he may change still further.”

“You mean grow big enough balls to consider an open confrontation with me?” Clyntahn asked calmly, turning
to look directly at the Archbishop of Wu-shai for the first time. Rayno was obviously a bit nonplussed by the question, and the Grand Inquisitor chuckled coldly. “If it were just a matter of screwing up his nerve, he’d already have done it, Wyllym,” he said flatly. “Whatever I may think of him, I’m willing to admit he’s no coward. It’s not
fear
holding him back—not anymore, anyway. And I don’t
need any spies to tell me he hates my guts, either. For that matter, I don’t need any Bédardists to tell me that somewhere down inside he’s come to hate himself, as well, for not ‘standing up to me,’ and that kind of hate can eat at a man until it finally drives him into doing something he’d never do otherwise. All of that’s true, but he’s still not going to push it to the point of an open break.”

“May I ask why you’re so certain of that, Your Grace?” Rayno asked cautiously.

“It’s very simple, really.” Clyntahn shrugged. “If he pushes me into having him … removed, there won’t be anyone left to argue with me. You think Trynair or Maigwair are going to draw any lines and dare me to step across them?” The Grand Inquisitor’s laugh was a short, contemptuous bark. “Not in a thousand years, Wyllym.
Not in a thousand years! And Rhobair knows that. He knows all his precious projects, all his ‘kinder, gentler’ plans and pious aspirations, any possibility of ‘restraining my excesses,’ will go straight into the crapper with him, and he’s not going to let that happen. The way he sees it, the only chance he has for redemption is to do some good in the world to make up for all those years when
he was just as committed as any of the rest of us to the
practical
side of maintaining Mother Church’s authority. He can’t do that if he’s dead, and that, more than any fear of the Question or the Punishment, is what’s going to stop him. He’ll always be able to find some way to rationalize not coming directly at me because it’s up to him to do whatever he can to minimize the ‘damage’ I’m doing.”

Rayno simply looked at him. For once, even the Schuelerite adjutant was at a loss for words, and Clyntahn chuckled again, more naturally.

“Rhobair, unfortunately, is one of those people who believe man actually has a better nature. He genuinely thinks he can appeal to that ‘kinder, gentler’ side he’s sure most everyone really has. He doesn’t recognize that the reason God gave Schueler authority
to decree the discipline of Mother Church is that, thanks to Shan-wei, man
has
no better nature. Not any longer, anyway. God and Langhorne tried Rhobair’s idea of loving gentleness, of begging men to do the right thing, and mankind repaid them by embracing Shan-wei’s foulness. What? Rhobair thinks he’s greater than Holy Langhorne? Greater than God
Himself
? That mankind is going to suddenly discover
a ‘better nature’ it hasn’t had since the very dawn of Creation just because he, the great Rhobair Duchairn, is determined to appeal to it?”

The Grand Inquisitor’s lips worked as if he wanted to spit on the ground, but he made himself draw a deep breath, nostrils flaring.

“Whatever may be going through his mind, he’s simply incapable of understanding that man
won’t
embrace God’s will and accept
God’s authority without the iron rod of discipline. Humans have demonstrated again and again that unless they’re
made
to do what they know God wants them to do, they
won’t
do it. They have neither the wit, nor the will, nor the understanding to do it, and they’re too dull-witted even to recognize their own stupidity without us to make God’s will plain to them!

“That’s why Rhobair doesn’t understand
the Inquisition’s job, its responsibilities—its
duty
. He’s not willing to admit what has to be done, so he pretends it doesn’t have to be. He’s willing to condemn
us
for doing it, as long as
his
hands are clean, and he genuinely believes we’re unnecessarily harsh. That we
could
renounce that iron rod if we were only willing to. Well, we can’t, unless we’re prepared to see everything Mother Church
stands for go down in ruin, but that’s all right. Because as long as he believes he can continue to do things ‘behind the scenes’ to mitigate our ‘excesses,’ he’ll go right on preserving his ability to do them. He’ll make whatever compromises with his own soul he has to in order to accomplish that. And what that means, Wyllym, is that it would be almost impossible to drive him to a point where
he decided he had nothing left to lose and came at us openly, because he’ll go right on clinging to that responsibility to do good to offset our ‘evil.’”

Rayno glanced away for a moment, looking up at the sky above Zion, touched with a colder, brighter autumn blue. The last blossoms had fallen from the elaborate gardens beyond the Plaza of Martyrs’ elaborate fountains, and fall color was creeping
into the foliage. It would be winter again all too soon, and snow and ice would close in around the Temple once more. He thought about that, then looked back at his superior.

“I hope you’re right, Your Grace,” he said.

There was an unusual edge of doubt in his voice, however. Not disagreement, simply a note of … reservation. Clyntahn heard it, but he chose to let it pass. One of the things that
made Rayno valuable to him was that the adjutant was perhaps the only person left who would argue with him if he thought Clyntahn was wrong.