magistrate who will refuse to sign a death warrant in this case.”
“But such a sentence would be appealable to me.”
Bumble raised a snowy eyebrow. “And you will sign off on it.”
Vlad stared down at the smaller man. “I should not be so certain of myself, were I you.”
Bumble’s laughter grew slightly, and his grin matched it. “Highness, you and I have managed, for the most part, to have a very good working relationship. You deal with matters of the Crown. I deal with matters of the soul. We both acknowledge that my power comes from a higher realm than yours. And I have seen fit, through the years, to ignore many of the things which others have brought to my attention concerning you.”
Vlad folded his arms over his chest. “Such as.”
Bumble pointed back out toward the dock. “You are known to keep company with a notorious fornicator, Nathaniel Woods.”
The Prince raised his chin. “Is he, now?”
The cleric lowered his voice. “Let us not be coy, Highness, it ill becomes you. I know, from a very reliable source, that Woods and a well-respected woman in Temperance have carried on an affair for many years, despite her being married to another. I know that one of her children is not by her husband. I also know that you threatened her husband were he to take action against Woods or his wife. You are aiding and abetting a pair of adulterers. We both know that Woods has bastard half-breeds among the Twilight People though I doubt even he knows how many are truly his.”
“Even the ruination of a good man, and a good woman, is insufficient motivation for me to put Ezekiel Fire to death.”
“This does not surprise me.” The Bishop opened his hands to take in the whole of the laboratory. “I suspect, however, having yourself exposed for your Ryngian studies, and for having abandoned God and adopting their atheist ways would be. Do you think, standing where we are, that you could not be convicted of such charges and that, once you were, you would not burn beside the heretic down on the dock?”
Chapter Thirty-five
23 June 1767 Prince Haven Temperance Bay, Mystria
Prince Vlad’s first impulse was to open his desk drawer, pull out the pistol he kept therein, and place a three-quarter-inch-diameter sphere of lead directly between Bishop Bumble’s beetling brows. The Prince knew quite well-from ample studies conducted using rigorous Ryngian methodology-precisely the sort of damage the ball would do. Slightly flattened as it passed through the forehead, it would reduce the man’s brains to the consistency of a pudding, and spray them all over the lawn as the shot exited.
He would have been justified; the man had not so subtly threatened his life. Given those present and their general feelings about Bishop Bumble, were any questions asked, doubtless witnesses would all agree that a Ryngian assassin had managed to kill the Bishop, then escape while the others stood there in a state of shock. Repercussions, were there any, would be minor at best.
And Vlad might have killed him save for two things. First and foremost, he was not a murderer. Though Bishop Bumble might invite killing, though he might deserve it and the world might be a better place without him, it was not Vlad’s place to kill him. He would not even do what another noble might, and order the killing done, or hint to someone that it should be done. With Owen, Nathaniel, or the Count, he’d really not even need to hint. With the least bit of provocation they’d tie a rock to Bumble’s feet, toss him in the river, and claim that they had all told him that swimming after eating was ill advised.
Second, and more importantly, killing the man would not end the threat he posed. Bumble’s remark about Nathaniel contained information that only Zachariah Ward could have supplied. For whatever reason, Ward had confided in Bumble-and the Prince shuddered at the idea that the Bishop might use information he gained while in the confessional to coerce others. Vlad had to assume that Bumble kept notes. Were he to die suddenly and suspiciously, others might find a use for his notes.
So Vlad did the only thing he could do. He sat heavily at his desk and refused to meet Bumble’s dark-eyed gaze. “I see.”
“I thought you might, Highness.” The man ventured another pace into the library, the Prince’s evident weakness emboldening him. “I know that there are people who, when they think of what you do here, consider it as just ‘being the Prince’s way, is all, no harm meant or done.’ I, however, must worry about the souls of the people within my diocese. To be frank, Highness, you set a poor example for our people. When I hold services, your pew is empty save for high holy days or when one of your children has been baptized. While I know you are a learned man, and that you regularly correspond with your sainted father, your neglect of your faith promotes contempt in the general audience.
“No, I am not finished, Highness. You may not recall how you treated me on the Anvil Lake campaign, but I remember it very clearly.” Color worked its way up past the man’s stiff collar. “I offered to hold services, but you would not give the men time to attend. You made no attempt to curtail their profanity, and the riotous merry- making in Hattersburg upon their return is unmatched in the annals of debauchery. There are men who regularly attended services before they went to war under your command who have not set foot in the Cathedral since. I am mocked in tavern songs, and if I am mentioned in stories about the war, it is only as a jester.”
Vlad forced himself to shrink under Bumble’s furious recitation. That the man was stung and hurt could not be denied, but those indignities were years old. Men of accomplishment would have long since forgotten such things, or would have found a way to turn such things to their advantage. Bumble easily could have paralleled his treatment at the hands of the Mystrian militiamen to the treatment the Good Lord got from his tormentors, and turned that into a lesson on the blessedness of humility.
The Prince kept his voice small. “Bishop Bumble, I had no idea.”
“Do not lie to me.” Bumble’s eyes tightened as he shook a finger in Vlad’s direction. “You may not have paid much attention, wrapped up here in worldly and diabolical things, but you are too smart a man to have missed what has happened. And you are smart enough now to see that what I am doing here is for your own good because no matter what you have done to me, no matter the trials you have put me through, I am committed to saving your immortal soul. You are in danger of being lost to God’s Adversary. By protecting Fox you show your allegiance. You may not even realize this is what you are doing, so gentle and soft is the Ryngian seduction but, God as my witness, it is. You need to mend your ways, sir, and do so publicly, so others will benefit from your example. If you do any less, my hands may be tied in regard to your future.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Vlad forced himself to close the journal on his desk. He turned in his chair toward Bumble, but did not raise his eyes. He had to appear completely cowed. A tyrant such as Bumble would discipline him and, if the Prince complied with the punishment, Bumble would accept that rebellion had been quashed. This would buy Vlad time both to figure out how to deal with Bumble and to learn how far and wide Bumble’s influence actually extended. Vlad usually did his best to remain above political considerations, but now saw this as a failure because it left him vulnerable to someone like Bumble.
The Prince hid his face behind his hands, then sighed, wearily. “What is it you would have me do?”
“It is not what I would have you do, Highness, but what God demands you do.” Bumble sniffed piously. “You will begin by attending services with your family on a weekly basis. You will begin Sunday next. You’ll command Captain Strake to attend as well, and his wife and child. Catherine sees Ian Rathfield to the Cathedral each week, but will not come inside.”
“Count von Metternin as well?”
“He is most welcome.” Bumble’s eyes hardened. “You will dine with my family and me, and invite us to dine when you are in town. This will go a long way to rehabilitating me in the eyes of the Anvil Lake veterans. And you will endow a lecture series to be delivered, by me, at Temperance College. You will attend. It will be good for your soul.”
Vlad nodded.
“And you will, it goes without saying, sanction the sentence which comes down from the Court Ecclesiastic in the matter of heresy. You will declare Fire and any who follow him an outlaw. They will answer to me.”
The Prince looked up. “There’s the matter of the girl.”
