At the Sign of Triumph (Safehold)

.IX.

Rock Coast Keep,

Duchy of Rock Coast,

Kingdom of Chisholm;

and

Manchyr Palace,

City of Manchyr,

Princedom of Corisande,

Empire of Charis.

“With all due respect, Father,” Zhasyn Seafarer, the Duke of Rock Coast, said sharply, “I’m getting pretty tired of waiting for Father Zhordyn to get off the tenth-mark! We need to know exactly when—or, for that matter, Schueler help us, if—Lady Swayle’s going to agree to our strategy!” He glowered, dark eyes fiery. “I thought all of that had already been agreed, frankly. Black Horse and I have certainly been proceeding on that basis, and we’ve got firm pledges of loyalty from almost all the key men here in our own duchies. And now we can’t get a firm commitment out of her?” His expression was not a happy one. “She’s the one who contacted us—and she did it through Father Zhordyn. If she’s changed her mind, we need to know it. And if she hasn’t changed her mind, we need to know that, too!”

“I realize you need better communications, Your Grace.” Father Sedryk Mahrtynsyn raised a placating hand. “And I lnow it’s impossible to make concrete plans without knowing what your allies have in mind. But Father Zhordyn is a passionate and loyal son of Mother Church, just as Countess Swayle is a loyal daughter. Surely there’s no reason to fear their resolution has flagged!”

“It’s not their ‘resolution’ I’m concerned about, Father!”

The duke erupted from his chair and strode to the window, glaring out into the gray afternoon’s chill, windy rain while he worked to get his temper back under control. A spray of sleet rattled against the glass, and he turned back to the priest.

“What I’m concerned about is their willingness to do anything,” he said in a rather calmer tone. “Well, that and the fact that at this point we don’t really know what she’s been able to arrange—or not arrange—with Holy Tree or how those contacts of hers with Earl Mandigora have gone. If he’s willing to come in with us, he’d give Dragon Hill a secure northern frontier, and between them he, Dragon Hill, and Holy Tree could probably squeeze Greentree into joining us as well … or neutralize him, if he refuses.”

He scowled in frustration and walked across to the new model-cast iron stove heating his office. He opened the door, tossed in a couple of lumps of coal, and stalked back to the window.

“I think you’ll agree it’s pretty important to know whether or not we can count on support that far east,” he growled, looking back out into the rain. “And Dragon Hill’s not saying squat to me! He’s made it pretty clear he thinks I’m ‘overly enthusiastic,’ but if Rebkah and Father Zhordyn can get a firm commitment out of him, that would be huge. And if they can convince Mandigora and Holy Tree to do the same thing—and if I can bring in Mountain Heart and Lantern Walk—we’d effectively control all of the southwest outside the Crown Desmene. That’s more than a quarter of the entire Kingdom! There’s an enormous difference between that and what Black Horse and I can accomplish on our own. But if they won’t even tell us what they’re doing—or what they’re willing to do—Pait and I can’t make any definitive plans of our own, and it won’t be very many more five-days before White Crag and Kahlyns start counting noses on the troops to send to the mainland. When they send them off, we’ll have a window—a narrow one, only a few months wide, at the outside—before that sorry bastard Kahlyns trains up an entire fresh army of replacements. That means we have to be ready to act as soon as that window opens. And for that to happen, we have to make plans now based on what our ‘allies’ are or aren’t willing to do. It’s that simple, Father.”

Mahrtynsyn nodded, and not just to calm the other man down. There were times Zhasyn Seafarer could act like a petulant teenager who wanted his way now, and damn the consequences. This wasn’t one of those times, however, and the Schuelerite shared his frustration to the full.

Which didn’t keep him from understanding why Rebkah Rahskail, the Dowager Countess of Swayle, and Father Zhordyn Rydach, her confessor, were hesitant to give Rock Coast the firm commitments he wanted. And there were aspects of the kind of communication Rock Coast was demanding which made him distinctly nervous, as well. But whatever his own concerns, and however understandable their hesitation, the duke had it exactly right. The problem was what Mahrtynsyn did about it.

And whatever anyone else—including Zhasyn Seafarer—might think, it was his job to make this work. His superiors back in Zion had been very clear about that, and they wouldn’t be very happy with him if he didn’t make it work.

Of course, if I don’t, I doubt the Archbishop and the Grand Inquisitor will have the opportunity to express their displeasure to me. He grimaced mentally. Sharleyan and her executioners will probably make sure of that.

At forty-seven—although he looked considerably younger—Sedryk Mahrtynsyn had served the Inquisition for almost thirty years. His youthful appearance could have been a handicap in a parish priest, who needed to project an aura of mature wisdom and judgment. It had, however, served him well as a young agent inquisitor who’d specialized in infiltrating suspect groups. He also had fair hair, blue eyes, and a guileless face—one which habitually wore an expression of gentle, bemused surprise that was as deceiving (and useful) as his apparent youth. It had taken him years to perfect that mask, and by now displaying it was second nature to him. At the moment, however, it was notable mostly for its absence and the sharp intelligence behind those normally innocent blue eyes was focused and obvious as he frowned in thought.

He was willing to admit Rock Coast wasn’t the most patient and meticulous of conspirators. There were, in fact, sound reasons to keep him on a short leash, and in this instance it was scarcely surprising that his reputation for … impetuosity worried the countess and her confessor. But they were moving into the stage where zeal became a virtue, not a liability, and one of the reasons he’d been sent to Rock Coast Keep was to be Zhaspahr Clyntahn’s voice of caution in Rock Coast’s councils.

He was confident he’d be able to restrain any rashness on the duke’s part and, truthfully, Rock Coast had shown far more self-discipline than he’d expected. The duke seemed to grasp the notion—intellectually, at least—that this time Sharleyan and Cayleb Ahrmahk would crush any rebellion ruthlessly and for good. A part of him clearly still cherished the notion that his high birth and family connections would protect him from the worst if things went awry, as they had in the past, but deep inside, he knew that if he and his fellows launched an open rebellion and failed, Sharleyan would leave very few heads attached to their owners’ necks.

But if they were going to succeed, they needed to share information and make firm plans. Mahrtynsyn agreed completely with that point. His concern—and, he admitted, it was a serious one—had nothing to do with whether or not the duke should have that information or begin solidifying a comprehensive plan. It was the fact that he was a great believer in the proposition that successful conspiracies were always planned “under four eyes,” as the Desnairians called it. Face-to-face conversations, with no unfortunate witnesses, were the only truly secure way to communicate, and he hated the very thought of writing down anything that might fall into unfriendly hands.

Unfortunately, there was no practical way—or plausible pretext—for Lady Swayle to journey all the way to the Duchy of Rock Coast at this time of year. Or the other way around, either. True, she and Rock Coast were first cousins. But only the most pressing emergency could justify a sixteen-hundred-mile journey by road through the ice, snow, and sleet of a typical Chisholmian April. Simply visiting a kinsman, however much one might love the kinsman in question, scarcely constituted that sort of emergency. And given the long-standing tension between Rock Coast and the Crown—and the fact that Colonel Barkyr Rahskail, Rebkah’s husband and the recently deceased Earl of Swayle, had been executed for treason—any open contact between Rock Coast Keep and Swayleton was dangerous.

The problem was that Mahrtynsyn knew too much about what the Inquisition could do with written messages, however well encoded they might be, to be happy about having them traveling back and forth, either. It was true that the Inquisition had more experience dealing with ciphers and codes than almost anyone else. It was also true, however, that the heretics’ spies seemed to be even better than Mother Church’s. The possibility that they owed their efficiency to demonic intervention couldn’t be overlooked. Yet troubling and frightening as that thought was, and dire as the religious implications might be, it was the practical consequences which concerned him most.

And there was also the not so minor concern that if Rock Coast wasn’t noted for subtlety or thinking things through, the same could be reasonably said of his cousin. Lady Swayle hated Sharleyan Tayt Ahrmahk and her husband with every fiber of her being, and while Rock Coast was a man of faith, the countess went beyond simple faith to a zealotry even Mahrtynsyn found worrisome. The service of God required the exercise of intelligence, not simple, unthinking fervor. That was something the Inquisition understood, and just as Mahrtynsyn had been tasked with restraining Rock Coast’s enthusiasm, Father Zhordyn Rydach had the unenviable task of moderating Lady Swayle’s. The fact that he’d succeeded was greatly to his credit, but it seemed that having once put the brakes on Rebkah Rahskail’s impulsiveness, Rydach was understandably hesitant about encouraging her to give anything that might be construed as a blank credit draft to her headstrong cousin.

But in this instance, the Duke’s right and Zhordyn’s wrong, Mahrtynsyn thought. If we’re going to move forward with any real chance of success, it’s time for everyone to put his or her cards on the table and start making some firm commitments and hard plans.

He didn’t really like that conclusion, yet this was a moment he’d always known would come … just as he’d always known it would be one of the most dangerous moments of his entire mission to Chisholm.

“Your Grace,” he said finally, “I understand what you’re saying, and I share your concerns. More than that, I agree it’s essential we … solidify your plans as soon as possible, in order to be ready the instant General Kahlyns sends Duke Eastshare’s reinforcements out of the Kingdom. If there were any way for you and Lady Swayle to meet face-to-face without drawing unwelcome attention, that would clearly be the ideal solution. Unfortunately, I can’t think of one. Can you?”

“No,” Rock Coast growled.

“In that case, we’re left with the danger involved in written messages, and I understand exactly why the Countess and Father Zhordyn are hesitant to write down anything that might fall into the heretics’ hands. Perhaps I might serve as your communication link? I’m far less visible than you or Lady Swayle, so finding some pretext for me to make the journey to Swayleton, to serve as your personal messenger, would probably be feasible. There’d still be some risk, of course, but I could bring back oral answers to any questions you might wish to pose, and she and Father Zhordyn might well be the more comfortable with that.”

“Father,” Rock Coast said in a much warmer tone, “I’d trust you implicitly as my messenger—and my representative and advocate, for that matter. But I’m not the only one involved, and simply knowing what they intend isn’t sufficient. We need to put together a complete plan, one that orchestrates their efforts and ours into a single strategy instead of going off in our own separate directions and inadvertently getting in each other’s ways. Or even working at cross purposes because we didn’t know what they meant to do. A lot of the pieces of any strategy will have to be executed independently, if only because of the distances involved, but they have to be coordinated. And they also have to be executed simultaneously, because success will depend on achieving our initial objectives quickly, before the other side can react. A lot of our longer term planning will depend on how well the initial stage goes, and once we’ve established a firm base of control in this part of the Kingdom and our initial success begins attracting more supporters, we’ll have more flexible options going forward. The situation will be in a state of flux at that stage, as well, with both the opportunities and the threats changing rapidly, so it would actually be a mistake to try to make definitive plans—tactical plans, at least; we need full agreement on the ultimate outcome of all this—beyond that point. The problem’s getting to that point, and that requires us to discuss what we’re doing. Not just agree to cooperate, but agree on how to cooperate. And that’s going to require two-way communication.”

He shook his head and looked back out into the rain.

“I’m afraid it would be difficult for you to carry sufficient of the details for that level of communication in your memory, Father. I’m eternally grateful that you’re willing to undertake the journey, but what we really need is a way to exchange those very written messages—plural, I’m sorry to say—that we both wish weren’t necessary. And, that being the case, I’d prefer not to risk you as a simple courier. I have reliable men who could take care of that for me, and my relationship with Rebkah’s close enough that exchanges of written messages, even at this time of year, wouldn’t seem too noteworthy. For that matter, once she’s agreed, we won’t need couriers; we can use messenger wyverns. If she’s willing to correspond with me at all.”

He did not, Mahrtynsyn noted, say, “If you can convince that infuriatingly overcautious priest to let her correspond with me.” The thought had come through pretty clearly, though, and the duke proceeded to make it even clearer.

“What I need from you, I think, is your support in urging her—and Father Zhordyn—to give me confirmation of what she’s prepared to do or not do, and when, and how her ‘negotiations’ with Holy Tree—and Mandigora, assuming she really is talking to him—are proceeding. I need that sort of information as an absolute bare minimum, and I also need to know what she knows about what’s happening in Maikelberg. Despite what happened to Barkah, she still has better contacts there than I do, to be honest.” The duke shrugged. “But in addition to all that, we’ve got to concert our plans on when and how we’ll strike.”

Mahrtynsyn contemplated what the duke had just said glumly, wishing he could disagree with any of it. Unfortunately.…

“Very well, Your Grace,” he sighed. “I can’t pretend I’m happy about the necessity, but I can’t deny that it is a necessity. Choose your courier. I’ll draft a message to Father Zhordyn and, once you’ve approved it, I’ll put it into cipher.”

* * *

Well, how very good of you, Father, Nimue Chwaeriau thought.

At the moment, she was standing post outside the Manchyr Palace nursery while the ruling Prince of Corisande, his First Councilor, and the head of his Regency Council spent an hour or so admiring their niece and nephew and godchildren, respectively.

Prince Daivyn still seemed a little in two minds about the twins’ durability. The very thought of holding one of them was enough to induce something very like a panic attack, although he’d summoned all his will and courageously allowed his sister to place his nephew in his lap once he was safely seated in an outsized chair where he’d find it difficult to drop a baby on its head with no doubt fatal consequences. Then he’d sat absolutely motionless, obviously afraid that if he breathed, young Hektor would somehow spontaneously explode.

Nimue found that rather touching. Possibly that was because she’d had a somewhat similar initial reaction. The citizens of the Terran Federation had stopped producing children by the time Nimue Alban was a teenager, so she’d had very little experience with infants.

Earl Coris and Earl Anvil Rock, on the other hand, were old hands at dealing with babies and the sometimes interesting contents of their diapers. As she stood outside the nursery door, the head of the Regency Council was busily singing a lullaby—badly—to Prince Hektor Merlin Haarahld Aplyn-Ahrmahk while the aforesaid prince complained loudly about the universe’s state of affairs and the princedom’s first councilor helped his mother change Princess Raichynda Sharleyan Nimue Aplyn-Ahrmahk’s diaper.

It was, perhaps, as well that none of Prince Daivyn’s more dignified great nobles were present to observe the disgraceful spectacle.

Nimue fully intended to do her own singing—and burping, and even diaper changing—later that evening. For now, her attention was split between her bodyguard responsibilities and the SNARC imagery which had just been automatically downloaded to her. Owl and Nahrmahn were undoubtedly studying the same data at the same moment, but Nimue liked to be hands-on, and she’d programmed the SNARC remotes watching over Rock Coast Keep to alert her when their filters picked up certain keywords or phrases.

Looks like it’s time for the “seijin network” in Chisholm to report in to White Crag and Sir Ahlber, she reflected. If Mahrtynsyn’s really ready to start writing things down, it would be churlish of us not to allow him to share his literary efforts with us. Besides, I want to check in with Lady Karyl and see how she and her new armsmen are getting along.

Now how do we account for Captain Chwaeriau’s absence this time…?