could not afford to ignore. Not yet.
He knew why he was here. News had reached him on the road: the Esquiline Hill job had been botched. The archpriest must have his own informants close to the scene. Ral didn't like that. He had told Vassili he would handle it personally and to hell with the fallout, but the archpriest had insisted on doing things his way. Now matters were even more mucked up than before. Of course, Ral would be expected to make everything all right. And he would do it, with a smile if that's what was required. The rewards made it all worthwhile.
The manservant returned and ushered Ral into the archpriest's office. Lustrous parquet replaced the marble floor tiles. Comfortable furniture was arranged about the room at precise angles. An immense stone hearth stretched along most of the west wall; a company of silver figurines crowded the mantelpiece in strict formation. As he entered the chamber, Ral got the fleeting impression someone had just left. Yet the parlor's frosted-glass windows were closed tight against the night air and there was nowhere else for a person to hide. A faint odor hung in the air. It reminded Ral of a spice, pepper perhaps, or cloves gone stale.
Archpriest Vassili sat behind a heavy chalcedony desk. Draped in a wine-colored robe trimmed with mink, he was at least sixty, and in the stark candlelight he looked every year of it. A silk tonsure, the color of blood from a lung wound, capped his close-cropped white hair; matching rubies sparkled on stick-thin fingers. Around the loose folds of his neck, inscribed with sacerdotal icons, hung a bulky golden medallion on a thick chain of the same noble metal.
Vassili was reading from a scroll when Ral entered. His desk was littered with long sheets of parchment. A platter of piscis galantine on a bed of black caviar sat at his elbow, hardly touched. The papers were architectural plans for the new cathedral under construction in the heart of the city. Ral had seen the building often in his comings and goings, and noted its stark white marble walls, the legions of frozen angels and saints frowning down at passersby in stern disapproval.
The archpriest continued reading for an uncomfortably long interval before he acknowledged his visitor. When he did, his glare was cold and penetrating. 'How could this happen?'
Ral started toward a cushioned chair, but stopped as his patron raised a snowy eyebrow. He settled for tossing his cloak over the back.
'How could what happen?' A moment later, he added, 'Your Radiance. My mission was a complete success. The grand curate of Belastire has suffered an unfortunate mishap, as did his mistress, their three children, and a maidservant. Even better, one of his own underlings was fingered as the culprit. Seems the poor man has a drinking problem, woke up in the victim's cellar with a nasty hangover and covered in blood. They were preparing to hang him as I departed.'
'Not that, idiot. How could an entire squad of the Sacred Brotherhood, handpicked by you, manage to get themselves killed doing a job you told me would be routine?'
Ral held his tongue as the servant reappeared with a silver tea service. He took a steaming cup out of courtesy, but didn't taste the contents. What he wanted was a tall draught of good wine.
'I did as you demanded,' he said. 'You wanted men who could be trusted to keep their mouths shut. Ambitious men, you said, who could be manipulated with ease. I found the best available. If they failed, it is no fault of mine. I wanted to handle the matter myself, but you commanded otherwise.'
Vassili glowered over the rim of his cup. 'Mind your tone.'
Ral bowed his head, as much as it grated. 'Apologies, Your Radiance. I only mean to point out that matters would have gone smoother with my hand on the knife.'
'You know well that my plan could not allow for that. The timing of the Belastire job had to take place exactly as it did, far from Othir and with no suspicion thrown in my direction. That you did well, but still it was a mistake to involve the other assassin.'
A spider crawled from under the desk and scurried across the hardwood floor. Ral extended his foot to crush it.
'Caim is lowborn scum who needed to be put in his place.' He examined the sole of his boot. 'Anyway, it makes little difference. With Donovus out of the picture, another obstacle on the Elector Council has been eliminated.'
Vassili slammed down his cup, splashing tea on the desk. 'Earl Frenig was the crux of this scheme! His daughter escaped from your men and ran off to God-knows-where. And what's worse, your dupe is free as well. With them loose, all my plans are in jeopardy. Do you know how long I have labored, how many assets have been expended, all to see this day? I will not waste this opportunity.'
Ral tugged at his chin. Was it possible Caim had taken her? But why? What did he think to gain from it? He couldn't possibly know her value.
'I don't see the problem.' Ral held up a hand to forestall any protest. 'Please, Radiance, hear me out. All Caim knows is that he killed an old nobleman and a few soldiers.'
'He knows more than that. Earl Frenig was dead before your man ever entered the house.'
'Dead? I don't understand. The plan-'
'I modified the plan. I did not trust your men to time their entrance with precision. A moment too soon and they would be party to murder, leaving more loose ends to clean up. Too late and we'd have what we have now, an unaccounted asset free in the city with knowledge that could destroy everything. Two assets, if the girl saw anything, and she likely did. So I sent another agent.'
Ral chewed on that for a moment. What other machinations had the archpriest devised without consulting him?
'You never told me why we're making all this effort over an old man, not even an elector at that, and his brat of a daughter.'
'Never mind the reasons. Your job is to carry out your orders to my satisfaction, and I am very unsatisfied tonight.'
'Be that as it may, it hardly makes a difference. Caim is alone now, a fugitive with an entire city searching for him. He cannot go to the authorities. If he's hindered with a girl, he'll soon be caught, and then we'll have them both.'
'You mean the prelate will have them. Don't you think this thug, this Caim, will spill everything he knows for a chance to save his life?'
'He doesn't know anything of import. Besides, he'll never make it to the dungeons. I will make sure of that.'
Vassili shook his head. 'I'm not willing to gamble with happenstance. I want them both eliminated immediately. My forces are in place. Before the next new moon, Benevolence will suffer an untimely mishap. The Council will convene to elect a new prelate, and I will offer myself as a candidate for the high office, a motion which will meet with quick approval.'
'And as your faithful servant, I expect my promised reward. Our agreement called for a lordship, lands, and title.'
The archpriest picked up another scroll. 'You will receive your due compensation when this matter is completed. Mind the task I have laid before you. I want the girl and this man dead. You may go now.'
Ral grabbed his cloak and left. The manservant preceded him through the doorway. Just as Ral crossed the threshold, Vassili called out, 'Don't fail me again. My patience is almost at its end.'
Ral turned and made a bow. 'As you command, Radiance.'
The soles of Ral's leather boots slapped on the tiles as he stalked through the atrium, past the bodyguards who didn't look as if they had so much as blinked since he entered. Ignoring the manservant who held open the door, he strode out into the brisk night air. This business was getting out of hand. Once he had thought Vassili would be the herald to all his dreams, but more and more of late he was beginning to doubt the archpriest's true intentions. If Vassili managed to gain the prelacy, he might decide that his old allies were too dangerous to keep alive. Ral had no intention of being discarded after his work was done. Perhaps it was time to form a contingency plan. One couldn't be too cautious in matters such as these. A man had to look out for his own interests.
Another thought nagged at Ral as he vanished into the shadowed streets of the city. If it wasn't Caim, who killed the old man?
Vassili frowned at the water-stained parchment in his hand. Your Radiant Grace, Conditions in the state of Eregoth continue to deteriorate. An influx of Utheno- rian mercenaries-brigands in all but name-into the usurper's
