memorial service?”
“I’d appreciate that, sir.”
I stood, and we walked out through the security doors and gate to the coach.
Baratyn said nothing, even after we were moving away from the Chateau.
“Do you have any idea who might have arranged for Suyrien’s shooting?” I finally asked.
He shook his head. “It took place at his L’Excelsis estate, not here. I was told that he was walking down to the boat house on the river.”
That made sense, because getting close to a High Holder on his own estate would have been difficult, while the river was open to anyone with a boat. Still…someone had to have reconnoitered the estate in order to know from where on the river what part of the estate could be vulnerable to a sniper.
Although we arrived almost a quint before the service was to begin, over a hundred people were already standing in the anomen, and murmurs filled the hall. I eased over to the left, almost against the wall some three yards back from the first line of those who were already there. I didn’t see Maitre Dyana, but I hadn’t expected her. Maitre Rholyn was in the second rough row back, but on the far side of the anomen from us. I didn’t see anyone else from the Collegium, although I did see Glendyl and Caartyl, on opposite sides of the hall. There was no one in military uniform, either.
As the bells struck the glass, the family walked in from the left side and stood in a line facing the front of the anomen.
I didn’t know the chorister who stepped up to the pulpit. That wasn’t surprising, since I’d never attended services at the Council Anomen. He was tall and thin, with silvering hair. “We are gathered here together this afternoon in the spirit of the Nameless, in affirmation of the quest for goodness and mercy in all that we do, and in celebration of the life of Suyrien D’Alte, High Holder and Councilor of Solidar, a man distinguished in all that he did.”
The opening hymn was “The Glory of the Nameless.” I sang, but as quietly as possible. Beside me, Baratyn sang even more softly, if that were indeed possible.
Then came the confession.
“We do not name You, for naming is a presumption, and we would not presume upon the creator of all that was, is, and will be….” As the words of the confession echoed through the anomen, I glanced around, my eyes coming to rest on Suyrien’s family at the front, a silver-haired woman flanked by Frydryk and Alynkya on one side and by Kandryl and Iryela on the other, with a younger woman, who was probably a sister, beside Iryela.
“In peace and harmony,” came the response.
After that came the charge from the chorister. “Life is a gift from the Nameless, for from the glory of the Nameless do we come; through the glory of the Nameless do we live, and to that glory do we return. Our lives can only reflect and enhance that glory, as did that of Suyrien, whom we honor, whom we remember, and who will live forever in our hearts and in the glory of the Nameless.”
Another hymn followed-“Honor Has No Name.”
I agreed with the sentiments and words of the hymn, but both the music and the words were strained, as often was the case when philosophy or religion mixed with music.
Then the chorister said, “Now we will hear from Frydryk D’Suyrien, speaking for the family.”
The memorial service would be the last time Frydryk would be called that publicly. After the service, he would be Suyrien D’Alte, probably called “Young Suyrien” for a time. As was the custom, Frydryk did not take the pulpit, but the topmost step of the sacristy dais. He faced the more than two hundred people who had come to pay their respects to the family, or more accurately, I suspected, to sign the registry to ensure that their presences were known to the family.
Frydryk had to clear his throat several times before he finally began. “My father, above all, was an honorable man. He believed in honor in word and deed above all else. From the time we were children, he stressed the importance of honor. He believed that even true love was not possible if a man and woman did not enter into it with honor…”
I listened carefully as Frydryk catalogued in more than moderate length all the ways in which his sire had been honorable and managed not to sigh in relief when he had finished. I was sure he believed all he had said, and I was equally sure that Suyrien had believed it and that he was more honorable than the vast majority of High Holders. Unhappily, given the way most of them construed “honor” and the fashion in which all too many of them ignored it in practice, Frydryk wasn’t saying as much as he thought he had said.
Once Frydryk rejoined his family, the chorister moved to the pulpit again. “At this time, we wear gray and green, gray for the uncertainties of life, and green for its triumph, manifested every year in the coming of spring. So is it that, like nature, we come from the grayness of winter and uncertainty into life which unfolds in uncertainty, alternating between gray and green, and in the end return to the life and glory of the Nameless. In that spirit, let us offer thanks for the spirit and the life of Suyrien D’Alte. Let us remember him as a child, a youth, a man, a husband, and a father, as not just a Councilor, but as a man devoted to Solidar and to the spirit of serving to the best of his considerable abilities, not merely a name, but as a living breathing person whose spirit touched many. Let us set aside the gloom of mourning, and from this day forth, recall the glory of Suyrien D’Alte’s life and the warmth and joy he has left with us…”
With those words, all the women let the mourning scarves slip from their hair.
Then came the traditional closing hymn-“For the Glory.”
After a long and respectful silence, people began to slip away, particularly those at the back, who had doubtless signed the register already. More than fifty others remained, because many of them either wanted to offer condolences to Frydryk and Alynkya or Kandryl and Iryela or to Kandryl’s sister, whose name I didn’t even know.
I needed to speak to several of them, for differing reasons, but I waited for a couple I didn’t know to offer their words before approaching Iryela and Kandryl. Kandryl wasn’t quite red-eyed, and Iryela looked perfectly composed. I inclined my head to them. “I’m very sorry. While I didn’t know your father that well, he was always cheerful and good to me.”
“Thank you, Rhenn,” offered Kandryl.
Iryela nodded.
“I have sent inquiries, about Johanyr,” I added in a much lower voice to her, “but I have heard nothing yet.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Then I waited behind Councilor Alucion and his wife to speak to Frydryk.
When I stepped forward, Frydryk actually spoke first. “I thought you would be here, Rhenn.”
“I’m very sorry. He was a good and honorable man and Councilor.”
Frydryk studied my face. “You were attacked also, I heard. I can see bruises everywhere.”
“There are many more,” I replied wryly, “but one can heal from bruises.”
He nodded. “I appreciate your coming.”
“I don’t wish to intrude, but…might I call on you tomorrow?”
Frydryk frowned.
“I wish it were otherwise, but it may bear on your father’s death.”
“Half past ninth glass at the town estate,” he finally said.
“Thank you. If matters were not so urgent, I would not have pressed on you.”
Alynkya looked to me, then reached out, took Frydryk’s hand, leaned toward him, and murmured something.
Frydryk nodded, if almost imperceptibly. “I’m reminded that you have always been thoughtful in times like these, and for you to insist declares that urgency.” He offered a faint smile. “Tomorrow.”
