party investigation he couldn't control might just be able to tie him to it with enough corroborating testimony, and it wouldn't pay to take chances. Not with dead children to tighten the nooses about the necks of anyone who got caught.
No, it was time to take out a little insurance, and he knew just the man to whom he could safely entrust the task.
'A secret session, My Lord?' Edmond Marchant frowned at his patron. Neither man was bothered by the fact that Burdette had just broken the law to inform Marchant of the session. After all, it was only Man's law, not God's. But the timing was disturbing, and Marchant's frown deepened.
Things were going well, but Satan was a cunning foe, and while it was true they were God's warriors and God was master of the Devil, that didn't mean Satan would take this lying down. He'd spent years grooming Mayhew and his harlot for their tasks, and scorpions must be gnawing his vitals over what God's servants had wrought to thwart him. Surely he was working all his infernal wiles to salvage his plans, so where were the signs of his handiwork? That there were such signs was a given, but Edmond Marchant, strive as he might, had yet to perceive them, and that worried him.
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his upper lip in thought. If Mayhew had summoned the Keys, then he had something he thought could be effective, and the fact that it was a
Which, in turn, suggested Marchant and his Steadholder should be wary and, if possible, discover just what that something was.
But what could it be? The people were arising to smite the whore Harrington. If Mayhew and the corrupt Sacristy tried to preserve her, they would only draw the peoples wrath down on themselves. Unless they thought there was some way they could
'My Lord, have you heard anything about the reasons for this session?' he asked finally.
'No,' Burdette snorted. 'No doubt he plans on whining and pleading for 'restraint' in the matter of the bitch's impeachment.'
'But why do that in
'Because he's afraid of the people,' Burdette returned shortly.
'Possibly, My Lord. Possibly. But what if he has some other reason? One he feels can succeed only if he produces it as a surprise?' Marchant's eyes sharpened as he heard his own words, and Burdette cocked his head.
'What is it, Brother Marchant?' he asked in a less abrupt tone. 'You suspect something specific?'
'I don't know, My Lord. ...' Marchant’s voice trailed off, and his brain worked even more furiously. Satan was cunning, and, like God, though surely to a lesser extent, he knew far more than any mortal. Was it possible that...? The clerics heart raced with sudden, fearful suspicion, but he made his expression remain calm and considering.
'My Lord, do you still have contacts in the Ministry of Justice?' he asked in a merely thoughtful tone.
'A few,' Burdette said with a fresh edge of anger. Prior to the accursed 'Mayhew Restoration,' Burdette had controlled Justice, and he bitterly resented the way Councilman Sidemore had moved steadily to 'retire' the appointees who might still be loyal to their one-time patron.
'In that case, My Lord, it might be wise to see what you can discover about Security's investigation into the dome collapse. It would be well to know exactly what evidence they may have amassed against the harlot. That information would be of help in planning your own remarks before the Conclave.'
Burdette considered for a moment, then nodded. His expression showed no shadow of the doubt which had sprung to sudden life in Marchant's own heart, but he saw the logic of the argument the priest had chosen to advance.
It was a pity, Marchant thought sadly, that men who sought only to do God's will must be so circumspect about their actions, even with one another. But his Steadholder was a man of passions, and if Marchant's suspicion had no foundation, it would be wise never to suggest it to him. The worst thing Marchant could do was set the same worry in the Steadholder's mind when there was no way to prove or disprove it. That sort of concern would only prey upon him, and might well weaken his will when they stood upon the very threshold of success.
'Councilman Sidemore has set things in motion, Your Grace,' Prestwick said. 'He's assembled a team to sift the evidence, but he and Security say they need a rather larger effort than we'd originally hoped.'
'I see.' Benjamin frowned at the screen. He and Prestwick had hoped to get things moving with only a handful of senior, completely trustworthy men, but the Chancellor’s tone told him they'd been overly optimistic, Well, he thought, a justice ministry responsible for an entire planet was, by its very nature, a huge, complex organism. Like any respectable dinosaur, it needed secondary brains scattered throughout its body to make things work.
'I understand, Henry,' he said after a moment. 'Please thank the Councilman... and stress once more the importance of confidentiality.' He smiled wryly. 'Feel free to seek his commiseration for my harping on the matter, but get the message across.'
'Of course, Your Grace,' Prestwick replied, and Benjamin nodded and cut the circuit. For the first time since this disaster had begun, he realized with some surprise, he actually felt a bit cheerful over his prospects.
A dangerous sign, he told himself immediately. Any conspirators who could bring their plot this far were dangerous, and his own options had too many built-in risks. He couldn't afford complacency-born mistakes.
'Welcome aboard
'Thank you, My Lady. As always, it's a pleasure to see you.' Hanks deliberately projected his voice to the ears of all the officers and ratings gathered in the boat bay gallery. He had no doubt the Navy's personnel had been as horrified by the dome collapse as anyone on the planet. Military discipline might hide it, but they were Graysons, and many of them must entertain doubts about their admiral. The Reverend was too astute a student of human nature to blame them for that, but he wanted the cordiality of his greeting to Lady Harrington to link into any minds where those doubts had found a home.
'Will you accompany me to my quarters, Sir?' Honor asked.
'Thank you, My Lady. I'd be honored,' Hanks replied, and glanced sideways at her profile as she escorted him towards the boat bay lift. She looked better than he'd feared, but the marks of grief remained plain on her face, and his heart went out to her. She was no member of his Church, but she was, as, indeed, he'd told the Keys at her investment, a
'Protector Benjamin and his family charged me to remind you of their debt to you, and of their love,' he said, and she smiled gratefully at him as they stepped into the lift. He let the doors close, and then went on. 'In addition, My Lady, the Protector sends you this.'
He handed her the writ of summons, and her eyebrows rose as she examined the heavy, official envelope. He simply waited, and she broke the seal and scanned its contents, then she looked back at him in silent question.
'The Chamber is growing restless, My Lady,' he explained quietly, 'and there's been... well, some talk of impeaching you.' A spark of anger flared in her eyes, a healthful sign, he thought, and he shook his head. 'To date, those who want you formally charged before the Keys lack the numbers to demand it, My Lady, but that could change. The Protector hopes to head that off by a personal appeal, and, if that fails, by revealing at least a little of Mr. Gerrick's findings. The hard part,' his sudden, wry smile made him look almost boyish, 'will be to do it without revealing precisely who else he suspects may be behind it.'
'If you'll pardon my saying so, Reverend, that will be an impressive trick,' Honor observed, and Hanks nodded.
'No doubt. However, the Protector wishes you to bring Mr. Gerrick along as an expert witness. And, of course, I've also been summoned to the session, where I will be only too happy to offer you my own modest support:'
''Modest support'!' Honor snorted, and smiled warmly at the kindly old man who'd done so much to help
