armies has foiled our latest efforts to undermine the local viceroy. Rumors of strange happenings in the highlands continue to persist. Most of the peasants have fled or been taken to parts unknown.
We beg Your Radiance to send additional men and monies, as both are in perilously short supply.
Your Servant, with all humility,
Jacob Mourning, Aspirant
With a curse, Vassili tossed the letter on the desk amid a pile of papers, all bearing similar reports from his agents in the north. Some had not bothered to report at all. He was tired of their complaints, the endless wheedling for additional funds and soldiers. He was more concerned with events here at home. Banditry and lawlessness plagued the countryside. Arnos encroached from the east, and the prelate's 'holy war' against the god-kings of Akeshia in the distant east had left Nimea with inadequate forces to guard her own borders.
Vassili broke the elaborate seal on the next missive and unfolded its stiff parchment. This one he found more to his liking.
Brother in Faith, We most happily accept your gracious gift to the impoverished unfortunates of Parvia. As the Holy Texts profess, surely your heartfelt generosity shall be remembered forever.
Furthermore, we hereby agree to an alliance of purpose on all matters that come before the Council.
Archpriest Gaspar, Viscount of Parvia
After reading the message, Vassili folded it with care and placed it in the hidden compartment under the bottom drawer of his desk. A dozen archpriests presided over the twelve holy districts of Nimea. Together, they formed the Elector Council, a body ordained to advise the prelate and, when necessary, elect his successor. With Donovus gone and Gaspar's support, he held half of the Council securely in his pocket. Now, if only Ral could be counted upon to perform his task with alacrity, all would be set.
A shiver went through Vassili as the temperature dropped and shadows stirred in the corners of the room. A figure emerged from the darkness. Tall and lean, almost to the point of gauntness, he wore a simple monk's robe, black as the night, cinched at the waist by a plain length of cord. His pale face hovered in the candlelight. Its stern lines came together to form a powerful jaw, a twisted nose. White scars creased hollow cheeks, old wounds poorly healed. Shadows smudged the sockets of his deep-set eyes. Black pupils like cold, bottomless pits swallowed the light.
'Levictus.' Vassili made a show of looking over the latest plans for the cathedral's baptistery. 'You overheard?'
The figure moved to the spot where Ral had stood only moments before. His voice, though only a whisper, carried through the chamber.
'Nothing remains hidden from the Dark.'
The archpriest reached up to touch the medallion on his chest and forced himself to look upon the man's ruined features. Levictus winced as candlelight reflected off the symbols etched on the golden surface, and Vassili allowed himself a satisfied smile. Sometimes a pet, no matter how faithful, needed to be brought to heel.
He jerked his chin toward the doorway through which Ral had departed. 'That one grows bolder every day.'
Levictus opened his left hand slightly, and then made a flicking gesture as if to say, The man is insignificant, an insect, but there was something ominous in his gaze.
'In any case,' Vassili continued, 'there is a more dire matter at hand. Namely, your failure in Ostergoth. You assured me that your necromancy could protect Reinard. I made guarantees based upon that assurance, guarantees which are now returning to haunt me. The duke's brother sits on the Council. He will no doubt demand concessions as a result of this debacle, concessions that will cost me dearly. Well? What say you?'
Still, Levictus said nothing.
Vassili exhaled a long breath. He was tempted to reach for his medallion again. The sunburst sigil of the True Faith was perhaps the only thing his servant feared in the entire world, having been tortured and scarred under its standard. Yet he kept his hands on the arms of his chair. He would show restraint.
'For the love of the Light, man. What is it? Speak.'
'Have I not done all that you asked of me?' Levictus stood perfectly still as he spoke, but the scars on his cheeks rippled with every word. 'I have spied on your enemies. It was I who discovered the old one's intentions, and I who silenced him. I have done all that you asked, to the letter of your expectations. Would you agree this is true?'
'Yes, Levictus. And forget not that it was I who saved you from the Inquest's torture cells.'
Vassili would never forget that day. Twenty years ago, the Church hierarchs saw the filth and immorality lurking throughout the realm and, having secured the emperor's sanction, launched a pogrom to rid the nation of its heretical pagan roots. The fanes of the old gods were rooted out and destroyed, their priests imprisoned or slain on the spot along with any others who refused to convert to the True Faith. Levictus's family was among those swept up by deputized officers of the Holy Order of Inquest. Vassili had been merely an ambitious praetor at the time. On a tour inside the Inquest's dungeons, he'd noticed a particular young man. According to the jailers, his parents and brother had expired under questioning, but this young man refused to repent, though he had been tortured for weeks and was slated for execution on the next day. Vassili sensed something special in this youth, as if their paths had been destined to cross. He used his authority to have the prisoner released and took the waif into his own household. Not long after, his new protege began to display certain unusual traits. With time and study, Vassili realized the amazing treasure he had unearthed.
'Have I failed in any task you set before me, master?' Levictus stepped toward the desk. 'Or given less respect than was due?'
The archpriest folded his hands within his sleeves. 'No, Levictus. You have served me faithfully. I do not debate it.'
'Then when, master? When shall I have my revenge?'
There it was. Vassili chided himself for not seeing it sooner. He never expected the man to forget the torments of his past, but sometimes it slipped his mind. When he'd saved Levictus from the stake, he had promised the youth his vengeance against the Holy Inquest for what they had done to his family. Over the years, he had sustained Levictus on tidbits of revenge, the odd Inquestor or misogynous cleric, fools caught sodomizing their acolytes or plundering the Church coffers. But he understood what Levictus truly wanted.
Vassili composed himself. 'Soon, Levictus, if you follow my instructions. It is no easy thing we aspire to achieve. Our realm seethes with corruption. Merchants scheme and bribe their way to high position. Harlots peddle their wares on every street corner in Low Town. Debauchery reigns in the houses of God. Civilization itself teeters on a precipice.'
'When, master?'
'Degeneracy is festering in every corner of the realm. Heresy breeds in the streets of our very city. And yet Benevolence does nothing to halt the corruption, but squats in his fortress like a bloated leech and dreams of past glories.'
Levictus stared at him.
'Find the girl! By the Noose, Levictus, find her and we can move on to the final phase. Then, you will receive everything you desire.'
Levictus maintained his gloomy stare a few seconds more, and then dropped his gaze to the floor. 'Yes, master.'
'Good. Now go and do not return until you have good news for me.'
He made a show of comparing blueprints as Levictus retreated into the shadowy corner from which he had emerged. Moments later, the chill faded from the room.
Vassili leaned back and released a long sigh. Levictus was becoming increasingly difficult to manage, and the thought of the sorcerer running free, no longer under his control, was enough to send him reaching for the bellpull. He needed a drink-something stronger than tea.
While he waited for his servant to appear, Vassili played with the idea of pitting Ral against Levictus. With luck, they would eliminate each other and rid him of both problems. It was an interesting line of thought, one he filed away for the future. He didn't dare upset the delicate balance so close to the fruition of his dream. At this moment, the prelate slept soundly within the walls of Castle DiVecci, never suspecting that his doom approached on silent steps. Vassili almost wished he could see the look on the old fool's face when the end came.
Smiling to himself, he took the scroll from his desk drawer and read its contents again.
