Mortalis

Braumin bristled visibly, shaking his head.

'He will be a strong candidate,' Je'howith replied.

'His ways are more attuned to those of Behren than those of Honce-theBear,' Braumin pointed out; and it was true enough, and everyone in the Church knew it. Entel was Honce-the-Bear's southernmost major city, on the coast in the northern foothills of the Belt-and-Buckle, a mountain range that separated the kingdom from Behren. Entel's sister city was, in fact, Jacintha, Behren's seat of power, located on the coast in the southern foothills of that same range, a short boat ride from Entel.

'Even so, if we, who have witnessed the drama of the last weeks, do not present a unified front, Abbot Olin will likely win the day,' Je'howith replied.

'But you-as I-do not think him a wise choice.'

Je'howith shrugged.

'There are many masters of St.-Mere-Abelle qualified in experience and in temperament,' Braumin suggested. He saw that Je'howith was obviously not enamored of the idea. 'Fio Bou-raiy and Machuso.'

'Bou-raiy is not ready, and is too angry; and Machuso spends his days, every day, with peasants,' Je'howith said. 'Better another-Agronguerre of St. Belfour, perhaps.'

Braumin had no answer; he hardly knew the abbot of that northernmost Honce-the-Bear abbey, St. Belfour in the wilds of the kingdom's Vanguard region.

'Yes, Abbot Agronguerre would be a fine choice,' Je'howith said.

Braumin started to ask why, but he stopped short, recalling an image from the previous year's College of Abbots, the only time he had ever seen Abbot Agronguerre of St. Belfour. The man had been sitting right beside Je'howith, chatting easily, as if the two were old friends.

Only then did Brother Braumin appreciate that Je'howith had led him to this point purposefully. Je'howith hadn't held serious thoughts of becoming the next father abbot. Of course not, for his ties to the King were too great and many of the other abbots, involved in continual power struggles with regional dukes or barons, would outright oppose his ascent.

'There are other masters at St.-Mere-Abelle-' Braumin started.

'Who will not even attempt to gain the post if Brother Braumin and his friends, the very monks who witnessed the demise of Markwart, were to throw in their votes for an abbot of a different abbey,' Je'howith interrupted.

Brother Braumin chuckled at the absurdity of it all and admitted to himself that Francis had been correct in assessing that he, Braumin, was not yet ready for the politics of the position of father abbot.

'Go and ask Master Francis, if you wish,' Je'howith offered, 'or any of your other friends who might know of Abbot Agronguerre. His reputation for fairness and gentility is without reproach. True, he is not a forceful man, not a firebrand, as was the younger Markwart, but perhaps the Church is in more need of stability now, of healing.'

Braumin nodded as Je'howith played it out, as he came to understand the man's interest in Agronguerre. For Agronguerre would undoubtedly support Je'howith, would protect the abbot of St. Honce's interests in the coming years. Agronguerre was abbot of St. Belfour, after all, in wild Vanguard, which was ruled by Prince Midalis, Danube Brock Ursal's younger brother; and Braumin knew enough of that situation to recall that it was a tight bond in the northland, a friendly camaraderie between Church and Crown.

'He is a good man of sterling reputation,' Je'howith insisted, 'and he is not a young man, not much younger than myself. Understand that I am asking you for our mutual benefit. Even without your backing, or that of Brother Francis, I could throw the College into turmoil by announcing my intent to try for the office. Perhaps I would not command the votes to win, but surely I could persuade many away from you-or whomever it is that you choose to back-enough so that either Abbot Olin or the Abbot Agronguerre would gain the position in any case.'

'Then why do you speak to me of it? ' Braumin asked.

'Because I fear that Olin will take the post, and will try to strengthen the ties between the Abellican Church and the pagan yatol priests of Behren,' Je'howith replied.

And Olin would not look so kindly on Je'howith and his close ties to the King of Honce-the-Bear, Braumin thought.

'So allow the memory of Father Abbot Markwart its peace,' Je'howith said, 'as it should have, given the man's decades of honorable service to the Church.'

Braumin's lack of retort was all the confirmation Je'howith seemed to need. 'And support me as I support Agronguerre,' the old abbot went on.

'And when he dies, if you have proven yourself in the position of abbot of St. Precious-an appointment I will support-and if I am still alive, then I give you my word now that I will back your own ascent to that highest level, Brother Braumin.'

'I will learn what I can of Abbot Agronguerre,' Brother Braumin agreed, 'and if he is all you say, then I agree to your choice.' He nodded and bowed slightly, then turned to go and join his friends.

'One thing you should know as well, Brother Braumin,' Je'howith remarked, turning the younger monk back around. 'At last year's College of Abbots, Abbot Agronguerre did not agree with Father Abbot Markwart's damning decree against Master Jojonah. He even expressed his concerns to me that we might be too quick to condemn Brother Avelyn, given that we did not know the extent of the man's actions in league with, or against, the demon dactyl.'

Braumin nodded again and began to consider that the meeting with Je'howith had gone much better than he could have ever hoped possible.

Pony saw the final exchange between Braumin and Je'howith, the latter surely no friend of hers! She had heard nothing of their discourse, though, and so she watched Brother Braumin closely as he turned and started away, noting the apparently satisfied spring in his stride, a gait that only increased when he spotted Pony and headed straight for her.

'Jousting with the enemy? ' she asked.

'Trying to smooth the trail,' Braumin replied. 'For surely it is filled with deep ruts since Jilseponie will not heed our call.'

Pony laughed at the man's unrelenting pressure. They simply could not hold any conversation without Brother Braumin pushing at her to ally formally and openly with the Church, with the new Abellican Church that he and his companions had determined to bring into being. ' If you believe that the road would become smoother and easier if I accepted your invitation to bid to become mother abbess, then you are a fool, Brother Braumin,' she replied.

'You have the deathbed blessing of a father abbot.'

'A fallen father abbot,' Pony reminded, 'a man I brought to that deathbed.'

'One who found a moment of clarity and repentance in his last moments of life,' Braumin came back. 'And that moment will be honored within a Church that espouses penitence.'

Pony chuckled again at the brother's unrelenting idealism. Could he not see the fallacy of his own prediction, that the College of Abbots would become so enmeshed in attempts at personal gain that Markwart's last statement, and Francis' interpretation of it, would be viewed with skepticism or even dismissed outright? But they had already been through this argument a dozen times at least, and Pony had no heart for it again. Nor the time, for a moment later, Duke Bretherford entered the room and announced the arrival of King Danube Brock Ursal.

Danube swept into the room, Constance and Kalas flanking him and a line of Allheart knights in shining armor behind them.

'My time is limited, for the tides will soon be favorable,' he said, motioning at the large oval table set for the gathering. As one, the monks and the nobles-and Pony, who still wasn't sure exactly how she fit in or where she was supposed to sit-headed for their seats, then waited patiently and deferentially as King Danube took his own.

'Grace us with the blessing,' the King bade Abbot Je'howith, a slight against Braumin, Talumus, and particularly Francis that was not lost on Pony.

Je'howith gladly complied, calling for God's blessings in these troubled times, for His guidance that His Church might put itself into proper order to erase the errors of the past year.

Pony listened carefully and marveled at how well the old man avoided specific judgments in his prayer, at how he gave no indication of who it was he thought had made those vague mistakes. Yes, Je'howith was a crafty one, she reminded herself. She-and, to her thinking, Braumin and the others would do well to follow her lead-didn't trust him in the least.

'What are your plans? ' King Danube asked immediately after the prayer was ended. He looked to Braumin as