“Because we have to discuss something we’ve both been avoiding,” he said gravely. “Something you’ve been dancing around, and that I’ve let you dance around.”
“That sounds ominous.” Her effort to inject a light note into her voice failed, and she folded her arms across her chest. “But in that case, I imagine the best way to do this will be for you to come straight to the point,” she said.
In that moment, she looked very like her father, Coris thought. She had her mother’s eyes and high yet delicate cheekbones, but that hair came straight from her father, and so did the strong chin-softened, thank God, into a more feminine version in her case. And the look in those eyes came from Hektor Daykyn, as well. It was the look Hektor had worn when the time came to set aside theories and nuanced understandings. When it was time to make decisions by which men lived or died. It grieved Coris, in many ways, to see that look in Irys’ eyes, but it was a vast relief, as well.
“All right, I will come to the point,” he replied, and inhaled deeply.
“Irys, I know you blamed Cayleb Ahrmahk for your father’s death. We haven’t discussed it in some time, but it’s seemed to me your confidence that he was responsible for it may have… waned a bit over the past year or so.”
He paused, one eyebrow arched. After a moment, she nodded ever so slightly.
“I’ve… entertained the possibility that there could be other explanations.”
“I thought that was what was happening,” Coris said. “I haven’t pushed you on it, for a lot of reasons, but one of them, frankly, was that if my suspicions were correct, then having you publicly and vocally suspicious of Cayleb was your best protection. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like it was protection enough.”
“What do you mean?”
Those eyes were even more like her father’s, and he sighed.
“Irys, Cayleb and Sharleyan of Charis didn’t have your father murdered. Zhaspahr Clyntahn did.”
For a moment, her expression didn’t even flicker. Then her eyes widened, less in disbelief than in surprise at the flat confidence in his tone, he thought. She looked at him in silence, and then it was her turn to draw a deep, slightly shaky breath and sit back in her chair.
“You have proof of that?”
“Proof that he personally ordered your father’s assassination, no,” Coris admitted. “Very strong suggestive evidence that he planned it, yes.”
“What sort of evidence?” she asked in a cold, dispassionate voice which had no business coming from a young woman who wouldn’t be twenty years old for another month yet.
“First, let’s think about his possible motives for doing something like that,” Coris responded. “Your father was losing, Irys. No, he wasn’t losing; he’d lost, and he knew he had. I wasn’t there, because he’d sent me away with you and Daivyn, but I have reports from trustworthy agents which all confirm Cayleb and Earl Anvil Rock are telling the truth when they say Prince Hektor had contacted Cayleb to open surrender negotiations. I’m not going to tell you Cayleb of Charis is a saint, because I don’t really believe in saints. And I won’t argue that your father wouldn’t still be alive today if Cayleb hadn’t invaded Corisande, since that almost certainly created the circumstances which led to his murder. But I will tell you Cayleb Ahrmahk was about to get everything he’d invaded to get, and that he’s clearly smart enough to know that killing your father in that fashion at that time would have been the worst, stupidest thing he could possibly have done.
“But the things that would have made it stupid from Cayleb’s perspective would all have been positive outcomes from Clyntahn’s viewpoint.”
Coris held up his index finger.
“One. If your father had reached an accommodation with Cayleb, even if he’d planned on denouncing it as non-binding at the first opportunity, since any promises would have been made to an excommunicate, it would have made him another Nahrmahn in Clyntahn’s view. That would have been enough by itself to drive him into a frenzy but there was even worse from his perspective. The way he would have seen it, it wouldn’t simply have been a case of the prince the Group of Four had anointed as Mother Church’s champion against the ‘Charisian blasphemer’ cutting a deal with the blasphemer in question to save his own crown, it would have encouraged others to do exactly the same thing.”
He extended the second finger of the same hand.
“Two. If your father reached an accommodation with Cayleb and decided, for whatever reason, that he had no choice but to abide by it, Charis’ conquest-or control, at least-of Corisande would have been enormously simplified.”
He extended his third finger.
“Three. If Cayleb assassinated your father, however, or if someone else did and Cayleb simply ended up blamed for it, then instead of becoming another traitor to the Group of Four and another example of someone reaching an accommodation with Charis, your father became a martyr of Mother Church.”
His fourth finger rose.
“Four. Your father may not have been much beloved outside Corisande, but he was remarkably popular with his own subjects. If Cayleb had him murdered, it would arouse intense resentment among those subjects. That would lead to unrest, which would require substantial numbers of Charisian troops to suppress, and that would almost certainly lead to incidents between those troops and the people of Corisande, which would only strengthen your people’s resentment and anger. Violent confrontations and incidents would increase, bloodshed would rise, and Corisande would become a sinkhole for the Charisian military resources that would be tied down there and not available for use against the Group of Four anywhere else. Of course, hundreds or even thousands of Corisandians would have been killed in the process, but from Clyntahn’s perspective that would simply have been the cost of doing business.”
He paused for a moment, and then, slowly, extended his thumb, as well.
“And five. By killing your father after he’d sent you and Daivyn out of Corisande to keep you safe, and by making sure your brother died at the same time, Clyntahn created a situation in which the legitimate heir to the throne of Corisande was a minor child, outside the princedom, and under the Church’s direct or indirect control. Daivyn’s exile from Corisande guaranteed the fragmented authority and legitimacy that led to the ‘Northern Conspiracy,’ Irys. It contributed directly to the bloodshed and executions in Corisande. And it left Daivyn conveniently parked where the Group of Four could make whatever future use of him seemed most valuable.”
He let his hand fall, and Irys sat, gazing at him silently. From her expression, he was confident he hadn’t told her anything which hadn’t already crossed her own mind. But still she sat looking at him, then cocked her head.
“That’s not proof, Phylyp. It’s a description of why it might have made sense to a man like Clyntahn to murder Father and Hektor. A very convincing description-I’ll grant that. And after watching what he did to the Wylsynn family and his other rivals in the vicarate, I’m certainly not prepared to argue that the fact that he’s a vicar of God would have slowed him down for a moment! The man’s a butcher, a tyrant, a murderer, and a monster.” The flat, almost emotionless detachment of her voice only made it even more terrible, Coris thought. “Yet none of that constitutes ‘proof’ he had Father and Hektor killed. I’m willing to admit it’s time to consider the possibility that Cayleb didn’t do it, but that’s a long way from deciding Clyntahn did.”
“Your father taught you well,” Coris said with a small, sad smile. “Always look for the other possibility, the less obvious one. Never decide something must be the truth simply because you want it to be.”
“Father also taught me never to trust anyone completely,” she said, looking into his eyes. “That was his very first rule, his most important single axiom. But he set it aside in your case, and I’m willing to do the same. Only I’m not prepared to accept that simply because I trust you, you have to be right.”
Coris’ heart swelled with pride as he looked at her, and he nodded.
“My God, what a queen you would have made,” he said softly. “Your father and I talked about that once. He hated Sharleyan, you know, though it wasn’t really personal. She was just… in the way, and he knew she’d never rest until she’d avenged her father’s death. But he admired her, too-deeply-and I think he’d seriously considered trying to change the law of succession in Corisande.” The earl shook his head with a smile. “Only he told me he’d decided against it because he didn’t think Safehold could survive you and Sharleyan at the same time unless you were both on the same side, and that wasn’t going to happen.”
Irys’ eyes softened and her mouth trembled ever so slightly, but then she shook her head and unfolded her arms to point a finger at him.
