Sister’s policy of suppression. It was his duty.
To cater for the sudden increase of accused heathens, Joyhinia had set up a special court, chaired by Harith, which dealt with the influx of prisoners requiring trial. From what Jenga had seen, the trials were little more than a formality, the sentences the same, regardless of circumstance. Arrest was proof enough of guilt, and every Fourthday another caravan of tried and convicted heathens was dispatched to the Grimfield mines, where before the prisoners of the Citadel had only needed to be dispatched once a month. Jenga found himself constantly having to remind his men to be certain, beyond doubt, before they arrested anyone, while Joyhinia undermined him by addressing the Defenders personally, telling them that suspicion was enough. Where there is smoke there is fire, the First Sister was fond of saying.
In the aftermath of Mahina’s removal, Wilem Cortanen, Mahina’s son, was hastily appointed as Commandant of the Grimfield and was gone from the Citadel within days, his mother, now officially retired, and his dreadful wife, Crisabelle, in tow. To Jenga’s mind, it was the one bright spot in the whole miserable affair. Many might regret Mahina’s banishment, and it was common knowledge that Wilem’s posting was not to his liking, although he was well qualified for the post and would undoubtedly prove an effective administrator. But nobody in the Citadel, Jenga thought, was going to miss Crisabelle.
Lord Pieter had stayed at the Citadel until the day before, when he rode out of the gates with a full guard of honor to escort him to Brodenvale. He had stayed through the winter – partly to supervise the implementation of the Purge and partly because he wanted to sail home. He had no choice but to wait while his ship sailed north against the current to the nearest port. The Saran River that flowed past the Citadel was too shallow to be navigable. News had finally come that the ship had docked in Brodenvale and planned to take full advantage of the spring flood to hasten the Envoy’s journey home. Lord Pieter had cooled his heels in the Citadel, frustrated and helpless under Elfron’s watchful eyes, for long enough.
Lord Pieter had not had a moment’s privacy in the three months he spent at the Citadel. The rest of the Envoy’s party, including Elfron’s nuns, had shared the protection of the Envoy between them, apparently terrified that he might be tempted into sin by some wicked atheist. Jenga wondered if the Karien clergy had any inkling of Pieter’s behavior when he came to the Citadel without them. The nuns were dedicated in their duty, and Pieter’s frustration was a palpable thing. He waited and fretted, and spent a vexatious winter of abstinence. Elfron had looked thoroughly miserable riding out of the Citadel empty handed. Jenga still had no clue as to why the priest wanted R’shiel, and even Pieter seemed annoyed when the priest suggested they wait at the Citadel until she was found. Whatever the priest had in mind for the girl, Pieter did not share his enthusiasm. He wanted to go home.
Occasionally, Jenga overheard a few of the Defenders muttering something about Joyhinia and whether or not R’shiel was really her daughter, but such conversations usually stopped as soon as he entered the room. Tarja’s accusations had spread through the Citadel like a summer cold. R’shiel’s disappearance had fueled speculation, but fear of Joyhinia kept the rumors to an occasional furtive whisper. It was not a safe topic. The First Sister had spies everywhere. Jenga was grateful for that. Exposing Joyhinia’s lies meant exposing his own, and Dayan could still be tried, even after all this time.
Tarja had wisely fled the Citadel. Jenga assumed R’shiel went with him to avoid being handed over to the Kariens, although he could not say. Even Davydd Tailorson, the last person to have seen her in the Citadel, didn’t know where she had gone. Although there were many reported sightings, nothing reliable had been heard of either Tarja or R’shiel for months. A warrant had been issued for Tarja’s arrest, listing him as a deserter. If caught, he would be hanged. R’shiel had been branded a thief – she had taken a silver hand mirror or some other trifle from Joyhinia’s apartment before she vanished.
Tarja had always been a favorite son of the Defenders, respected by his peers, even when he had run afoul of Trayla. Defying Joyhinia had, if anything, increased the admiration of his fellow officers, who applauded his courage, though they questioned his wisdom. But when he walked away from the Defenders he had broken a sacred oath to the Corps, if not the current First Sister. That was unforgivable. Jenga knew, just from the talk in the taverns, that if found, Tarja would be unlikely to make it back to the Citadel alive. Too many officers felt that Tarja had betrayed them.
As the Purge continued unabated, there was a growing feeling of discontent among his officers. Arresting heathens was one thing, but the evidence required to convict a citizen of pagan worship was becoming less and less substantial. There were cases, Jenga suspected, where neighbors had accused each other to gain land.
It was rumored that the Purge was being used to settle old scores. It was as bad as the old days, some claimed, when two centuries ago the Sisterhood had set out to destroy the Harshini. Jenga found that hard to believe. Even the Sisters of the Blade acknowledged that had been a time of darkness. To think Joyhinia had returned Medalon to that bleak and best forgotten past, while he was in command of the Defenders... it was too awful to contemplate. He did not wish to be remembered by history as a butcher or a tyrant.
Jenga opened the door to his office, and the relative warmth of the room brought his thoughts back to the present.
“I was hoping you’d be back soon,” Garet Warner said, lifting his feet from Jenga’s desk without apology.
“Make yourself at home.”
The Commandant removed himself from Jenga’s chair to make room for his superior. He took the hard- backed wooden chair on the other side of the desk as Jenga reclaimed his own leather seat.
“How did your meeting with the First Sister go?”
“The same as usual.”
“That bad, eh?” Garet Warner had little respect for Joyhinia, but he usually had the sense to keep his opinion to himself. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think things are about to get worse.”
“It must be bad news indeed,” Jenga agreed heavily. “Have the Kariens invaded? The Hythrun, perhaps? Or is there a Fardohnyan fleet sailing up the Glass River to attack us?”
“If only we should be so lucky. I’m afraid my news is about Tarja.”
Jenga’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been bringing me reports of Tarja’s whereabouts all winter, Garet. None has proved worth a pinch of horse dung.”
Garet appeared unconcerned by the criticism. “Tarja’s one of the best officers the Defenders have ever produced, my Lord. Does it surprise you that he’s been able to give us the slip for so long?”
“No more than it surprises me that you’ve been unable to locate him. Have you something useful this time?”
“There’s been some trouble with a patrol. In a village called Reddingdale.”
“What happened?”
“The patrol was attacked. Three men were killed.”
“So the villagers fought back? I’m surprised none have tried it sooner.”
“I agree, we’ve been lucky so far. But I think the Purge has finally pushed some of the heathens too far. There are rumors of an organized rebellion. I’ve nothing definite yet, but not all the pagans worship benign gods. There are quite a few willing to put up a fight.”
“And you think this incident in Reddingdale is somehow connected with this organized rebellion?” Jenga asked.
“I’m almost certain of it.”
“And what of Tarja? You said you had news of him?”
“He was there,” Garet told him. “So was R’shiel, by all accounts. Tarja killed two Defenders. The other, I’m not certain about, although one report I have says it was R’shiel who killed him. The sergeant of the patrol identified them.”
Jenga shook his head. Had the world become so skewed that Tarja would turn on the Defenders? Or that R’shiel would kill a man?
“What do you think?” he asked. Perhaps Garet’s more objective view would offer some comfort.
“I think we have an organized rebellion on our hands,” Garet said. “And that Tarja and R’shiel are involved with them. Tarja’s a captain of the Defenders and R’shiel was raised to be a Sister of the Blade with Joyhinia Tenragan as her role model. I don’t think we’re facing a few fanatical heathens anymore, Jenga. With those two on the loose we could be facing a bloody civil war.”
