At the Sign of Triumph (Safehold)

.II.

Tellesberg Palace,

City of Tellesberg,

and

The Delthak Works,

Earldom of Hanth High Rock,

Kingdom of Old Charis,

Empire of Charis,

and

Charisian Embassy,

Siddar City,

Republic of Siddarmark.

“I have to say, I never really thought I’d see something like this,” Sharleyan Ahrmahk said.

She and Maikel Staynair sat in a sunny council chamber with Trahvys Ohlsyn, the Earl of Pine Hollow and the Kingdom of Old Charis’ first councilor, and Bynzhamyn Raice, Baron Wave Thunder, the Empire of Charis’ senior spymaster. Or, rather, the Empire of Charis’ senior breathing spymaster.

“I rather doubt Trynair saw it coming, either,” the electronic personality who was the empire’s true spymaster said dryly over their com earplugs. “There’s a certain poetic justice to it, though, I suppose.”

“I don’t think there’s enough poetry in my soul to appreciate it properly, Nahrmahn,” Ehdwyrd Howsmyn, the Duke of Delthak, put in from his office at the Delthak Works and looked at the red-haired upper-priest sitting across his desk from him.

“Mine either,” Paityr Wylsynn agreed, his eyes dark. “I’m ashamed to say there’s a vengeful part of me that feels nothing but satisfaction after what happened to Father and Uncle Hauwerd and all their friends. But that’s an ugly part I try not to listen to very often, and the rest of me.…”

His voice trailed off, and he shook his head, looking down into the tumbler of Glynfych in his hand.

“I didn’t mean to sound flippant, Paityr,” Nahrmahn said. “But I’m afraid my vengeful side’s better developed than yours is. And it may be petty of me, but I tend to carry a fairly personal grudge against people whose allies have me murdered.”

“That would tend to give someone an interesting perspective,” Cayleb Ahrmahk observed from the dining room attached to his quarters in the Charisian Embassy. He and Merlin Athrawes and Nynian Rychtyr had just finished breakfast, and he grimaced. “On the other hand, Paityr has a point. That’s an ugly, ugly way to die.”

“I don’t want to appear insensitive, but dead is dead, and none of the four of them could have gotten that way soon enough to satisfy me,” Nynian said grimly. “As for being surprised, I’d always figured Trynair was the one most likely to be the first to get thrown off the ice floe to check for krakens.” She shrugged. “His problem was that he was always the smartest one in the room, even when he wasn’t. I don’t know for sure what he really did to piss Clyntahn off, but he should’ve borne in mind that his area of expertise hasn’t been in much demand since the jihad started. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that at least half the reason he went to the Punishment was to help Clyntahn make a point to Maigwair and Duchairn. They have skills he still needs, so why not use someone he doesn’t need as what the Inquisition likes to call ‘a teaching moment’?”

Her eyes were very dark, her expression cold, and Merlin regarded her thoughtfully as he nodded.

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you’re right about that, love,” he said. “I know you’re right about the way Clyntahn’s mind works, anyway. And you definitely know all the players involved better than any of the rest of us do. But that does leave an interesting question. What inspired him to arrange a ‘teaching moment’ at this particular time?”

“I can’t answer that, but I’d bet my ruby eardrops it has a little something to do with what Kynt, Eastshare, and the others are doing to the Temple’s armies.” Nynian took a sip of chocolate. “Clyntahn’s got to be getting desperate, and he’s the sort who works out his fears by killing other people. If I had to guess, Trynair was probably stupid enough to suggest negotiating with us. Either that or one of the two Clyntahn figures he still needs said something he needed to discourage by killing someone else.”

“You don’t think Clyntahn would support negotiations even if they were nothing but a ploy to win time, Nynian?” Nahrmahn asked.

“I doubt he’d even consider it,” Maikel Staynair responded before Nynian could. He shook his head, his expression grim. “After all this bloodshed, he has to know he, personally, won’t survive defeat, no matter what else happens. As Cayleb would say, that’s so not going to happen. And even if he didn’t realize we’d demand that as a matter of justice, he knows perfectly well that in our shoes, he’d demand it out of vengeance. He’s not going to do anything that could open the door to that result.”

“I think you’re exactly right, Maikel,” Nynian agreed. “And I’d add that he’d see a willingness to negotiate, whether it was genuine or not, as a fatal sign of weakness. He’d believe that as soon as word got out, any remaining support for the jihad would evaporate. After all, if the Temple’s willing to negotiate, then clearly this hasn’t really been a life-or-death grapple between God and Shan-wei from the beginning. God doesn’t negotiate with the Mother of Lies. If the Group of Four—well, Group of Three, now—is willing to negotiate, then they’re effectively declaring that we’ve been right all along. This has been a war against mortal men claiming to speak for God, and now that they’re losing, they’re trying to salvage whatever they can of their own positions and power.”

“That’s pretty much what I’ve been thinking, too,” Wave Thunder put in. “Especially the bit about its validating our position that we’ve been fighting against men who have perverted God’s will. Clyntahn’s about as arrogant as they come, but he’s smart enough to recognize that.”

“Don’t overlook the possibility that his own beliefs could be involved in this,” Ohlyvya Baytz said. Her image sat on the terrace of Eraystor Palace—or, rather, of its electronic doppelgänger in the VR computer in Nimue’s Cave—beside her husband. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged.

“We’ve never been able to really decide how much of him is corrupt cynicism and how much is genuine zealotry,” she reminded him. “For that matter, I very much doubt he could separate them. But we’ve always known he’s been driven at least partly by a genuine commitment to his own twisted vision of what God’s like, and I think it’s entirely possible—probable, really—that he’s retreating into—what was it you called it the other day, Merlin? A ‘bunker mentality,’ wasn’t it?”

“It was indeed.” Merlin tipped back in his chair and folded his arms, his expression thoughtful. “And I think you’ve got a point. Clyntahn’s not the sort who could ever really believe in the possibility that he’d fail. It’s just not in his makeup. But now the proof that he has failed is there for everyone to see, even him. So it’s actually pretty likely he’d insist that God and the Archangels will come swooping in to the rescue, no matter what happens. But for that to happen, he and the others have to prove they’re worthy of divine intervention, and that means fighting to the last drop of everyone else’s blood.”

“That’s what I was afraid you were all going to say,” Nahrmahn sighed. “Because the way I’ve been reading this, it’s not a good sign from our perspective. If he’s able to send Trynair to the Punishment, then he’s obviously in total control, and that means he really is going to fight ‘to the last drop of everyone else’s blood’ rather than let even a scrap of rationality to creep into the Temple’s position.”

“I hate to say this,” Pine Hollow said slowly, “but is that really a bad thing from our perspective?”

The others all looked at him, and he waved one hand, his expression troubled.

“From the perspective of ending this damned war without killing any more people than we have to, it’s a terrible thing,” he said. “I know that. But the truth is that from our perspective, the inner circle’s perspective, this war isn’t really about reforming the Church. It’s about overthrowing the Church, about breaking the Writ and the Proscriptions, and hopefully doing it before any millennial visitors drop in on us. If Clyntahn’s willing to continue the fight until we drag him out of his last lizardhole by the scruff of his neck, we’ll be in a far better position to impose terms that break the Church’s moral authority once and for all. He’s already done a pretty damned good job of undermining that authority; now he may be giving us a chance to complete its destruction.”

“Something to that,” Cayleb said after a moment, and sighed. “In fact, I should probably admit I’ve been thinking pretty much the same thing. It’s just that I’m so sick of all the blood, all the dying.”

“We all are, sweetheart,” his wife said gently. “But that doesn’t make Trahvys wrong.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Nynian agreed. “On the other hand, Zion’s turning into a snake pit right now. There’s no way to predict how Trynair’s Punishment will affect that, but I doubt it’s done anything to tamp down the tension. Between what’s happening at the front, Trynair’s execution, Helm Cleaver, and those broadsheets of Owl’s, there’s an awful lot of pressure building in the city. Right this minute, it looks like the Inquisition’s in total control, but the truth is, there’s no such thing as ‘total control.’ I’d say there’s a possibility—probably remote, at the moment, but still there—of a genuine insurrection if Clyntahn and his inquisitors push it too far. And if that happens, all bets are off.”