“I went into isolation. To find my way back to Perfection. But the world wouldn’t let me be.”
“Come. Come. You’ll stay with us, of course.”
The wife said, “And you’re just in time to eat.”
By the time they reached the Archimbault home the whole neighborhood knew that Brother Candle had returned. Scores came out to see. It would be hard to slip away again.
He observed, “The house seems bigger and quieter.” Madam Archimbault scurried about, winkling out bread, cheese, wine, olives, and pickles of a dozen sorts.
Archimbault said, “It’s awfully quiet with the children gone. Empty, too.”
Brother Candle held his tongue, afraid he might open a wound. Every family in Khaurene had lost someone the past couple years, either to crusaders, or to disease and hunger after the fighting stopped.
Madam Archimbault expanded: “Archimbault doesn’t like to talk about it. He doesn’t like to admit error.”
Her husband muttered but did not argue. Equality of the sexes was one of the great heresies of the Seekers After Light.
“Soames turned up. After we started looking for a new husband for Kedle.” Kedle being their daughter. “The story he told is a barrel of dung. He wouldn’t say where he’d been or what he’d done. The men from his company say he ran away before the fighting started. Some think he surrendered without a fight and might be a spy for the Society, now. He has no explanation for why he didn’t join us in the mountains. He knew Kedle was near her time.” Madam Archimbault had a huge anger against her son-in-law, rigidly controlled. “He’s already got her with child again.”
Archimbault made a noise like a hissing pot. His anger was larger than his wife’s. He would say nothing because he did not want to look bad to the Perfect. These were the sorts of cares a Seeker was supposed to put aside.
Madam Archimbault confessed, “I blame myself. It’s all my fault. I urged the boy on Kedle. She wasn’t really interested. I bullied Archimbault into approaching his family.”
Brother Candle had been surprised by the match, back when. Though then it had been a coup for the Archimbaults because Soames’s family was so prominent.
The woman said, “Soames has all the family property, now. Which must be the real reason he came back. Only his grandfather was still living when he did. Soames had become the only heir.”
Archimbault grumbled, “That family suffered so much misfortune in so short a time. People said it was because of Soames’s bad behavior. And Soames is the one who benefited.”
Madam said, “He insisted that Kedle and baby Raulet go live with him.” Angrily. As an afterthought, she admitted, “Kedle doesn’t mind.”
“It lets her put on airs. Master, the child has strayed from the Path. She may never find her way back. We need your help. Desperately.”
“The times try the faith of the best of us.” The Perfect tried recalling Kedle’s age. Still under eighteen, he thought. Of an age to sway in every philosophical breeze.
Visitors began to arrive. Domestic talk ended. Brother Candle was always a favorite with the local Seekers.
Khaurenese stayed up late, seldom sitting down to the last meal till the tenth or eleventh hour. They rose with the sun but took an extended nap during the heat of the afternoon. Spirited talk continued till well after the Perfect fell victim to exhaustion.
A different breed of visitor appeared next morning. Early, but not wickedly so. His appearance demonstrated the speed with which news spread in the tight environs of the city.
A groggy Brother Candle found himself face-to-face with Bicot Hodier, Duke Tormond’s chief herald. The old man was too sleepy to manage his manners perfectly. “Hodier? That’s you? I thought you died in the fight with the Captain-General. You were with Sir Eardale Dunn.”
“No doubt there were people who hoped that was true. As ever, I continue to disappoint. The Duke wants you to come up to Metrelieux. Please don’t frustrate him.”
“No.” Though Tormond was another reason he had wanted to pass Khaurene by. “I can’t.”
“It would be disrespectful of you to visit these friends but not him.”
“I know. I know.” And Tormond was a friend. Or had been, when they were boys. After a fashion. Now they were just two tired old men.
Brother Candle had not visited the fortress Metrelieux for some time. “Improvements have been made, I see.”
“Isabeth’s Direcians are pushy. Though it’s only the gate.” Hodier shrugged. “The rest is cosmetic. Militarily, the Direcians are more interested in upgrading the city gates and walls.”
Brother Candle had noted the physical improvements where he had entered the city. He had seen patrols in the street, mixed Direcian and native. “Do you think a siege is a sure thing?”
“That decision will be made by King Regard. Meaning, by his mother. King Peter will make sure the city resists.”
“His soldiers seem to be everywhere. How many are they?”
“Fewer than some like, more than make the Patriarch’s friends happy.”
“Meaning you don’t know.”
“Clever, Master. But the question can’t be answered. By me. Perhaps by Principat? de Herve or Count Alplicova. The garrison turns over constantly. Nor do they want spies being able to establish anything certain. The soldiers are here to teach our people to defend themselves. Most seem willing to learn.”
A member of the Collegium was in Khaurene representing interests opposed to the Father of the Church? “So the debacle when they met the Captain-General convinced the survivors that they have some shortcomings.”
“Indeedy do, Brother. Indeedy do. Wait in here. I’ll find out how soon the Duke can receive you.”
Brother Candle settled in one of Metrelieux’s quiet rooms. He had waited there on other occasions. Usually someone turned up wanting a private word before he saw Tormond. Which seemed to be the point of the delay.
This time was different. Hodier was gone a half hour but no whisperer materialized during the wait.
“He’s ready, Brother. You’ll understand the delay once you see him. Be prepared for changes. For the worse.”
The worse? And Tormond was still alive?
“Sorry, Brother. I don’t mean to sound dramatic. But, as I said, you’ll understand.”
He would. Almost. But, more, the Perfect was tempted to decline into despair.
The Great Vacillator, Tormond IV, last of his line because he had no surviving issue, had become a drooling ruin. He was confined to a wheeled chair. He stank. He could not lift his chin off his chest, so weak had he become. He was little more than a stick figurine.
Hodier said, “This time there’s no sorcery and no poison. This time it’s just age and poor health.”
This, Brother Candle suspected, would be the last time he saw his friend among the living. His resentment over having been dragged up to Metrelieux faded. “Has he made a religious commitment? Will he take Church rites or the consolamentum?” The latter being the final ritual for the dying Seeker After Light.
“He’s the Great Vacillator. Unto the extremity itself. Bishop Clayto, Bishop LeCroes, and the Perfect Brother Purify have been standing by. His Lordship won’t choose among them.”
Brother Candle thought that must be Brother Purify’s fault. One of Brother Candle’s most persistent failings was his inability to think a single charitable thought about Brother Purify. They were flint and steel. But he also started at the mention of Bishop LeCroes. His onetime friend had been caught giving Tormond slow poison at the behest of Sublime V. His reward was to be exalted status once the Church gained control in Khaurene.
Publicly, Bries LeCroes had been the senior local supporter of the Anti-Patriarchs, not a Brothe man.
Bicot Hodier noted his response. “One thing the Duke does do is forgive. Sublime is dead. The threat of Patriarchal troops is gone. So he pardoned everybody. Including every noble who worked with the Captain-General during the time of the crusade. And for that we’re paying already. Now they’re conspiring with Arnhand.”
Knees grinding in protest, Brother Candle sank down in front of Tormond. He considered the healing brother behind the wheeled chair, saw nothing to indicate that the man was anything but what he pretended.
The Perfect thought he would see the serpent of darkness lurking behind the priest’s eyes if he was a Society
