'Don't tell me that was the one you were after?'
'No more games,' Mihn said quietly.
'Very well,' he managed, 'check my morning reports.'
Mihn turned them both so he could see the pile of papers on the table. There was indeed something substantial there amongst them. He released Lesarl and shoved the man back into the room.
The Chief Steward gave a cough and rubbed a hand over his throat as Mihn went to the table. 'High Priest Bern had the original,' he explained in a hoarse voice, 'and until the fall of Scree that wasn't a problem – I hadn't even considered that entrusting a necromancer's writings to the High Priest of Death might prove a problem.'
Mihn picked up the journal and opened it, scanning a few pages to verify that it was the translation prepared at Lord Bahl's request. He shut it and retied the leather fastenings. 'Enjoy your porridge,' he said with a scowl as he headed for the door.
Lesarl paused as Mihn disappeared from view. 'Don't tell me the cook over-salted it again?' he called. There was no reply.
Cardinal Certinse didn't bother looking up when he heard the door to his office crash open. There was only one man who'd barge in unannounced and it would take more than a withering look to dissuade the man once known as Colonel Yeren. The eye-patched bastard had a reputation to match Count Vesna's, and he took every opportunity to remind the cardinals that the title they'd given him was just a technicality.
'Senior Penitent Yeren. And am I to assume you have a matter of theology you feel we must discuss without delay?'
'Yah, something like that,' the broad-shouldered mercenary replied as he deposited himself in one of the chairs facing the desk.
'Please, take a seat,' Certinse murmured, eyes still fixed on the report in front of him as he finished the last few lines. He restrained the urge to bring the page closer, despite the ache behind his eyes that now appeared if he read much while tired. Better not to show any weakness in front of a bully like Yeren, whether he was in your employ or not.
As last he finished and put the report aside. He looked at the soldier over bridged fingers. He and Yeren were of an age, but there any similarities ended. Yeren was a heavy set native of Canar Thrit, and had more white hairs than Certinse, and more than his fair share of scars too. He had reportedly bought himself out of the army early on in his military career, before being court-martialled on charges of corruption, although not soon enough to avoid losing an eye in battle. He'd spent the next ten years as a Carastar, one of the bands of bandits sanctioned by Vanach to patrol the border with Canar Thrit, tasked with dissuading anyone fleeing religious rule so they could keep that borderland conflict licking over without allowing it to explode into open warfare.
'Do you have news for me?'
'That I do,' Yeren said with a scowl. 'There's one hell of a mess at Hloly Dock damn thing tore a hole in the wall of Bern's palace.
Whole bloody flock of crows runnin' round wringing their hands and blamin' each other.'
Certinse ignored the 'crows' reference, although the black-robed priests of Death might not have appreciated it, and restrained the urge to ask what flattering reference the mercenaries used for the priests of Nartis. 'Did you manage to speak to your friend?'
Yeren knew most of the mercenaries employed by both cults, of course; they had all served together in Tor Milist.
He nodded. 'No sign of nothin' 'cept a guard who claims he got blindsided that night.'
'And did he?'
'Doubt it, he won't be the first flogged for drinkin' on duty. Still, it's damned convenient for the Chief Steward and I wouldn't put it past the bastard, but Kerx says he checked the whole building as soon as possible. All the doors were still bolted from the inside and there are charms on all the lower windows, so unless Lesarl's got an agent who can fly I don't see how he could've done it. Patrols're in constant movement in the streets round the temple; they'd've seen someone carrying a fifty-foot ladder.'
'Your conclusion?'
Yeren sighed. 'That Chief Steward Lesarl is more intelligent than Captain Kerx.'
'A week-old rabbit is more intelligent than Kerx,' Certinse said drily, 'but you're right, coincidence is a stretch. All that remains to discuss is what we do about it.'
'What do you mean?' Yeren said in surprise. He crossed his legs, revealing for a moment the leather breeches he wore before tugging his penitent's robe straight to cover them.
Certinse smiled inwardly. Lucky for them it's winter and an extra layer is welcome. In summer they actually might have to forego their fighting clothes. 'I mean: our goal is not civil war; we don't need evidence that this was a set-up to provoke a conflict. But that doesn't need to be the only result.'
'Why not? You've got 'em runnin' scared,' Yeren said, gesticulating as he spoke. 'They agreed wholesale to the High Cardinal's reforms. If you ask me, whatever happened in Scree broke Lord Isak's spirit-'
'I do not pay you to think,' Certinse snapped, 'and of that I am glad when your skills at it are so poor. Do you think we would be in such a secure position if Lord Isak was so easily swayed, considering it is the Chief Steward whispering in his ear?'
He reached for the bell-pull and gave it a tug to summon his secretary, a weak-chinned little man whose father had named him Kerek, clearly hoping he'd sired a great warrior rather than the cautious cleric he'd grown into.
The secretary hurried in and, blinking first at Yeren, bowed to Certinse. 'Yes, your Eminence?'
'Prepare a letter to High Cardinal Echer. I advise we distance ourselves from the unfortunate late High Priest Bern, and that we should encourage the investigation be concluded swiftly and quietly. I want it to imply we know more than we're going to tell on the subject.'
'Won't that make him suspicious?' Yeren interjected, failing to pay attention to Certinse's hard look. 'They'll be looking to see who else might have been in league with daemons. You Farlan find conspiracies far more entertaining than the truth.'
'Firstly,' Certinse replied with exaggerated patience, 'they will be looking for conspirators within the cult of Death, not outside it. Bern would be unlikely to take his heresy out of his domain. Secondly, Echer is so far gone he's barely even aware when it's Prayerday. Now that his proposals have been accepted the man's as happy as… well, as happy as an utterly deranged man can be. Kerek, do you think there's an appropriate term?'
'Ecstatic, perhaps, sir?'
Certinse nodded. 'The right hint of fervour, certainly. Anyway, Echer is content to occupy his time devising more strictures to impose on the Farlan people. Fortunately for the Farlan people, he sends them to me for my contribution now that he sees me as his champion, and I have in my employ several talented, albeit argumentative, theologians to help refine the text.'
' Meaning you let him argue with them all day, leaving you to run the cult?'
Certinse inclined his head. 'For a soldier you're not so great a fool.'
Yeren managed to not allow himself to be baited. 'That won't work forever.'
'I know. Kerek, have you seen your friend Ardela recently?'
'I have, your Eminence,' Kerek replied with a bow that wasn't fast enough to hide his smile.
'You should write to her, ask her to put her debating skills to use. Perhaps afterwards you could go and see her, just to ensure she is well. It must be a trying time for her; I hear shocking news about her mistress. Invite Yeren along too, perhaps?'
'Mistress?' Yeren said sharply as Kerek bowed again and retreated out of the room. 'That wouldn't be the Lady, would it? Rumour has it that she's dead, murdered in one of her own temples.'
'I wouldn't know the details, I'm afraid, but I too hear she is dead.' Certinse watched Yeren's face as the soldier fitted the pieces together. A devotee of the Lady. The irritant that was High Chaplain Echer. Honestly Yeren, it's not that difficult, is it? Or are you just trying to believe better of a man of the cloth?
'Piss and daemons!'
Certinse smiled. 'Not quite.'
'Your secretary didn't even bat an eyelid,' Yeren protested. 'What sort of bloody life do you clerics lead?' The man actually looked outraged, as though he had been a paradigm of goodness throughout years of bloody civil war in Tor Milist.
