‘Azaer is a shadow born of the light of creation, ever weak, ever on the periphery. To get involved in a war of that magnitude — well, Azaer looks that reckless to you?’ Ilumene pointed towards the closed doors of the Hall of Flags, where the remaining members of the Council of the Knights of the Temples awaited their leader.
‘We want a holy war as little as they do. Azaer doesn’t ask for control of your order. You’ve made a bargain with the shadow, but you have not sold your mind; Azaer doesn’t demand that of you.
‘The majesty of the Gods has been diminished by the actions of priests and our enemies, both Lord Isak and King Emin. Steps must be taken, or humanity faces a second Age of Darkness at best, while the Gods recover their strength. They might not have taken the losses of the Great War, but the cults have done fine work in turning worship away from them.’
Certinse raised a hand. ‘I know, I know.’
‘Then act: if your troops see Ruhen as the saviour the citizens of Byora do, so be it, but we don’t require any declaration of the council.’
‘And when they ask Ruhen’s ultimate goal? It is a question I’ve refrained from asking, but perhaps I need the answer before I go in there. Whether or not you lie to me, well, that’s what men of power do, but allegiance is a mutable thing and we must know the limits of your declared intentions.’
‘A legacy,’ Ilumene said without hesitation. ‘Redress of the imbalance in the Land is, we believe, not incompatible with forming a domain of our own.’
‘You make it sound like you are an equal partner with this immortal being,’ Certinse said, a warning in his voice.
Ilumene smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I know my place. I may be favoured son, but disciple I remain. My reward’s a bargain already agreed. Your councilmen will be suspicious of anything they don’t suggest themselves. Make it clear there’s enough of this Land to satisfy the ambitions of all, and they’ll be the ones with armies when the dust settles.’
Certinse nodded, almost light-headed at the idea of what the Land might look like once this had come to pass. All he knew was that change was coming, like stones tumbling down a hillside, and trying to resist was not an option, not now.
All that remains is to see how the hand is played, he realised as he marched through the antechamber. All eyes turned his way and for a moment none of them moved, then the older knight stood and saluted and the others sheepishly followed suit.
Certinse ensured he got a good look at the face of each while he returned the salute. It was enough to see that flicker of anxiety in their eyes. He didn’t need anything more.
Once inside the Hall of Flags the Knight-Cardinal shut the doors behind him and took a moment to look over the remaining members of the council. They were much depleted, the traditional eleven members whittled down to him and these four, an elderly sixth member having sent his anticipated letter of resignation in his place.
General Gort had died in some ridiculous last stand to protect the Temple Plaza in Scree, while Cardinal Eleil had suffered a fatal heart attack in his study one evening here in Akell. High Priest Garash had succumbed to red vein fever along with his followers in Akell Gaol, and High Priest Osir had reportedly died in a daemon attack as he travelled up from Tor Salan for this meeting, and High Priest Sechach had apparently not received the summons. Rumour had it the ageing cleric was confined to his own home after killing a serving girl by setting light to the room they were in, all the while gibbering about shadowy figures stalking the house.
No need to ask Ilumene if he knew anything about that one, Certinse reflected, even if I’m not so sure about Garash or Eleil. I can only hope Azaer considers my life more useful than my death.
‘Gentlemen, honoured council members — I thank you for the speed with which you have all attended my summons.’ Certinse bowed to the four men, lower than he needed to. He had found over the years that a little excessive respect at the start of council meetings smoothed most feathers nicely. He might be the Commander of the Knights of the Temples, but each of the four here were outright rulers of city-states and unused to obeying any sort of order.
‘This all of us then?’ General Afasin barked gruffly. The ruler of Mustet, the only white-eye on the council, was a tall, brown-skinned man of middle years. He had travelled the furthest to be here today — indeed Certinse was sure the man must have been much closer to be able to get here so quickly. No doubt his army had been probing the Sautin border again.
‘I’m afraid so,’ Certinse said. ‘General Abay has resigned, High Priest Garash died recently in custody and I’m sure you’ve heard about Cardinal Eleil and High Priest Osir.’
‘And Sechach,’ Afasin confirmed, nodding towards Duke Chaist opposite him. Chaist was the ruler of Embere, where the high priest lived. He had personally given the order to confine him.
‘So few are the representatives of the Gods,’ Cardinal Sourl croaked. The emaciated man peered around his fellow generals, his recently adopted austere lifestyle clearly taking its toll and advancing the onset of old age. ‘This Order has indeed lost its way.’
‘This Order has been driven from its path,’ Certinse snapped, making Sourl flinch, ‘hijacked by fanatics whose illegal acts forced me to retaliate. Do not remind me of your part in events, Sourl.’
‘You brought us here for this argument?’ Afasin rumbled. ‘I could have stayed at home and had it there.’
‘But which side would you have been on, General?’ Certinse retorted. ‘Or is it Cardinal? I confess I am confused as to which title you prefer these days.’
The white-eye was very quiet for a dozen heartbeats. His skin was dark enough that Certinse couldn’t see if he was flushed with anger, but the set of his jaw suggested Afasin was fighting the urge to draw his sword.
‘The Circle City is not only the only place where there have been tensions, but some of us managed to avoid wholesale slaughter while we got over the worst,’ he said at last.
‘Then I congratulate you on such deft handling, General Afasin, but we have not all been so fortunate.’
There was a creak and a thump as the last man there, General Telith Vener, pushed his chair back and dumped his feet on the table. He folded his arms, making a show of getting comfortable. ‘Wake me when the pissing contest is over, Chaist,’ he asked the man next to him, ignoring the hiss of contempt he received from his neighbour. The two had spent the previous summer fighting for control of the city-state of Raland and Duke Chaist was not a man to be gracious in comprehensive defeat, it appeared.
Certinse turned away from Afasin, his point made. General Vener was the biggest problem he had, and the man knew it. He had ducked every request for a private meeting beforehand and had made it clear who held the power right now: the wealth of Raland could sway most decisions in times of war.
‘I apologise if we’re boring you, Vener — perhaps I could turn the conversation towards a more stimulating subject?’
‘That would be nice,’ Vener said, closing his eyes and not shifting position. ‘Perhaps we could discuss this saviour I hear you’re intent on forcing on us? It’s one thing to sell your own men as mercenary escorts to Prince Ruhen, quite another to devote the entire Order to his service.’
The general was a lean, fit man whose physical prime seemed to have extended ten years longer than most men’s. He was five for six summers younger than the newly decrepit Cardinal Sourl, but Vener hadn’t succumbed to greying hair or a thickening waist yet. Certinse guessed Sourl would die within a year, but he had the creeping suspicion Vener would still be leaping from his horse when Certinse himself had need of a cane.
‘I intend no such thing,’ Certinse said calmly, ‘but I hope you will recognise the Land is at a crossroads and the Order should act decisively?’
‘Take advantage of the chaos, you mean?’
Certinse felt his hand tense; Telith Vener taking the moral high ground was enough to make any man choke with disgust.
‘Let me get this straight, Vener. You are still a member of the Knights of the Temples, correct?’
‘I am.’
‘Why?’
That made the bastard open his eyes at least. ‘What sort of a question is that?’
‘A fair one,’ Certinse said. He didn’t bother waiting for an answer; he wasn’t trying to humiliate the man, just to get his attention. ‘From what I can gather, you appear to be against the very concept of a saviour. You feel we should not step in to restore order to chaos, even when daemons have free reign over the wild parts of the Land and the Gods are weakened by enemies unconfirmed. Beyond a belief your uniform brings out your eyes, I’m not certain what reason you have for being a member of the Order.’
