Lord of the Silent Kingdom

gone.

7. A Fire in the End of Connec

Tormond IV, being the Great Vacillator, kept Count Raymone Garete, Seuir Brock Rault, Brother Candle, and their companions in Khaurene all winter. And a hard wintef it was, out where the nobility squabbled. Hungry peasants flooded Khaurene. Serfs deserted estates where men were bonded to the soil. Their masters were too busy to hunt them down. They joined the bandits in the hills, became low-grade mercenaries, or drifted into the cities where they lived by their wits. Meaning many became wood to be hewn by the headsman's ax.

Count Raymone chafed. He pleaded. He received letters almost daily begging him to come home. The best he could do in the face of Tormond's intransigence was issue a patent to his cousin Bernardin Amberchelle authorizing him to take all steps necessary to maintain order and defend Antieux.

Brother Candle was appalled. Bernardin Amberchelle was an animal. He was stupid, vicious, and a stranger to conscience. 'Your Lordship! You can't… Anyone but Bernardin!'

'Because he's an atheist? Or because he's a murderous lunatic?'

'Yes. That.'

'But that makes him perfect.'

'What?'

'He'll only kill people he doesn't like.'

'Your Lordship, it isn't a joke.'

'He'll be savage but he'll do more good than harm. And I'll look grand by comparison when I get back. Even my enemies will be glad to see me.'

Brother Candle shook his head at the sheer cruel cynicism of the man.

'Bernardin won't be out of control. He has a certain low craft. And he does listen when I explain clearly. Nobody will take it in the neck who didn't ask for it.'

Brother Candle was not mollified.

Brother Candle met Sir Eardale in the silencing room the day before he left Khaurene. The knight from Santerin did nothing to hide this meeting. 'It doesn't matter anymore,' he explained. 'The cause is lost.'

'No cause is lost while we don't despair.'

'Despair has found a roost, Brother. With all its brothers and sisters.'

'Then go home.'

'I am home. I want your final thoughts before you leave.'

Tormond had been adamant. Brother Candle was to stick to Count Raymone Garete like a rash. A rash of conscience.

'You've heard them, Sir Eardale. The Duke won't listen. There isn't much more that can be done.'

The old knight grunted. 'And our traitor?'

'Excuse me?' Stalling.

'Sublime's inside man. Who is he?'

The answer placed the Perfect Master squarely in the jaws of a fierce quandary. He had wrestled it for months. Pursuing the example set by the Great Vacillator.

Any action meant making a choice between friends.

Sir Eardale observed, 'There are issues larger than the fates of a few men, Brother.'

'Intellectually, yes.' Emotionally, it remained a choice between men.

'The entire Connec…'

'I know, Sir Eardale. Poisoning the Duke is the moral equivalent to poisoning the End of Connec.'

True. Both were almost moribund.

Dunn said, 'Bries LeCroes is the villain. He's decided to ride the Brothen pony. He's been promised that he'll be Bishop of Khaurene if he keeps the Duke under control.'

Brother Candle agreed. Bishop Clayto would be smashed for his long criticism of Sublime.

But Bries LeCroes was a friend. They had been through the Calziran Crusade together.

'I won't kill him,' Dunn said. 'Unless he finds it too difficult to relocate his conscience.'

'You're going to turn him again?' Further admitting that the accusation was sound.

'I see an opportunity to castrate Rinpoche. And to plant an eye inside the local Society.' The Society for Suppression of Sacrilege and Heresy had become just 'the Society,' already. It had had little impact, locally. There were plenty of pro-Viscesment bullies to bust pro-Brothen skulls. 'And to sabotage Sublime's Connecten ambitions.'

Brother Candle continued to keep his own counsel.

Dunn said, 'As you will, Brother. Though you must know what LeCroes's villainy might mean to you Maysaleans.'

There was that, too.

'I can't fault your conclusion,' he admitted. 'But I couldn't work out the practical side. How was he getting the poison to the Duke?'

Dunn started to speak, thought better of it. He had his suspicions but did not want to share them. 'God speed you safely to Antieux, Brother.' He walked out.

Spring threatened its explosion of green. Count Raymone's party straggled into Antieux under the empty eyes of a dozen severed heads. Cousin Bernardin had done his work well.

Crowds came out, of course. The first folk seen were not as demonstrative as the Count might like. Among them, though, were men of such harsh countenance that they could only be Society hacks.

Brother Candle saw despair everywhere. Hope was not dead here, but ravens cast deep shadows as they circled down on its quivering body. Count Raymone's long absence had given misery time to breed.

Bries LeCroes had a larger, darker stain on his soul than Brother Candle had imagined.

Inside Antieux, near the citadel, the crowds were warmer. They cheered. The dark, cold fish of the Society were scarce. A chant began. It demanded Brothen Episcopal scalps. Youths set fire to straw effigies wearing signs identifying them as Sublime V, Morcant Farfog, Mathe Richenau and Helton Jael.

'Who is Helton Jael?' Brock Rault asked.

Jael was the current senior brother of the Society locally. He had just arrived, to replace Icate Dermot, who had gone missing. Dermot himself had replaced someone else not

long ago.

I don't like this,' Brother Candle told Rault. 'It means big nouble.'

'The fact that there's gonna be big trouble just blindsided you, eh, Brother?' Socia sneered. 'Came at you right out of the blue?'

'I try to be optimistic, girl. I don't abandon hope. I keep praying that disaster can be averted. If men of goodwill want it so, it can be so.'

'Name two. Not counting you.'

Socia had a point, possibly without realizing it.

Everyone was crazy.

Everyone subscribed to an apocalyptic vision.

Was this one of those ages when mankind needed the purification of a holocaust?

Bernardin Amberchelle met his cousin amongst the flaming effigies. He grinned an idiot's grin. He was proud of his achievements. He expected praise.

The Raults left Antieux shortly. They did not expect to be gone long. There was to be a midsummer wedding for Count Raymone and Socia Rault.

Brother Candle left with the Raults but did not accompany them. He spent a few weeks finding the temper of the countryside. He was amazed. Bernardin Amberchelle's savagery had done more good than harm. Though those whose heads decorated Antieux's gates might disagree.

The Society no longer indulged in persecutions inside Antieux's wall. But Bernardin had felt little obligation to the rural folk. Maysaleans, in particular, were being persecuted. And so, as Brother Candle feared, neighbor turned