At the Sign of Triumph (Safehold)

.V.

Ahrloh Mahkbyth’s Fine Wines and Spirits,

Mylycynt Court,

City of Zion,

The Temple Lands.

“If I’d known you were going to come in person, I’d never have forwarded the message,” Ahrloh Mahkbyth said grimly.

“And if I’d had to wait for your message to reach me, I wouldn’t have gotten here in time for you to worry about it,” Nynian told him, looking up from the bottle of wine whose label she’d been examining. “This is a very good year, Ahrloh. How many more bottles of it do you have?”

“I’d have to check the ledger,” he said repressively. “And don’t try to distract me.”

“I’m not trying to distract you from anything. I’d just like to take a dozen or so bottles with me when we leave.” She slid the bottle gently back into the rack with the reverence the vintage deserved and smiled at him. “Helping you get established really was one of my better investments … in a lot of ways.”

He glared at her for a moment, then turned to her much taller companion.

“Can’t you make her show a little sense, Seijin Zoshua?” he demanded.

“I doubt anyone’s made her do anything since she was six years old,” Zoshua Murphai replied philosophically. “And I’m fairly sure her nanny had to negotiate bath times with her for at least three years before she turned six.”

“I don’t understand why everyone thinks I’m so stubborn.” Nynian shook her head as she crossed to a display of paper-thin, hand-blown Harchongese brandy snifters. She picked one up and held it to the light, admiring the exquisite workmanship. “If people would just recognize the impeccable logic of my position in the first place, we could save a lot of time that otherwise gets wasted arguing.”

“That’s all well and good,” Mahkbyth said. “But it’s entirely possible they managed to break Zhorzhet or Marzho before they died, and you know it. That could explain exactly how he got that recognition phrase. And if it is, if this truly is some sort of trap, you’re the one person in all the world we can least afford to deliver to them, Ahnzhelyk!”

“And we won’t,” she told him calmly, setting the snifter back on the display stand, and turned to face him with a serene smile. “I can’t guarantee it isn’t a trap, but if it is, they aren’t going to take us by surprise the way they must have surprised Zhorzhet and Marzho.” She stepped closer to him and laid one hand on his forearm. “And if they can’t surprise us, they won’t be capturing anyone will they?”

He looked at her grimly for a moment, but then, finally, he shook his head.

“That’s not really all that much better an outcome from Helm Cleaver’s perspective, you know,” he pointed out.

“Maybe not, but it’s a far better one from my perspective.” She squeezed his forearm gently. “And it wouldn’t really be all that disastrous from Helm Cleaver’s point of view, either. Inconvenient, perhaps, but Axman is safely back home in the Republic, in contact with Cayleb and Sharleyan and all of Seijin Zoshua’s … associates. They’re fully capable of coordinating Helm Cleaver’s operations if anything unfortunate were to happen to me.”

Mahkbyth nodded a shade unwillingly. He didn’t know that “Axman” was Sandaria Ghatfryd, but he’d received several messages from Axman over the years in which he’d commanded Helm Cleaver.

“Besides, I have to be sure your new friend’s telling us the truth, don’t I?” Nynian continued.

“And how, pray tell, do you intend to do that?” he inquired just a bit caustically. “I’m willing to concede that you’re better than most at picking out lies, Ahnzhelyk, but he wouldn’t have been chosen to contact us if he wasn’t better at lying than most.” The ex-sergeant shrugged. “That would be true whether he’s an honest messenger or an Inquisition provocateur.”

“Oh, I’m fairly confident I’ll be able to sort the chaff from the grain,” she told him, touching the pectoral scepter she wore around her neck.

It was larger than most, and more spectacular, almost like something designed for a high-ranked churchman’s formal wear. It was certainly more ostentatious than anything he’d ever seen her wear before, and for all its superb workmanship, it was rather too massive for someone as slender as she. It was also far more eye-catching, although that was actually a point in its favor. Publicly displayed evidence of piety was a sound investment in Zion just now.

“And, in the meantime, it’s nice to see Zion again,” she continued, turning to gaze out the shop windows at the peaceful, lamplit square. “I hadn’t realized I was actually feeling a little homesick until the seijin delivered me.” She shook her head. “Odd, really. I wouldn’t have expected to feel that way.”

“We’re all creatures of habit, one way or another,” Murphai pointed out, coming to stand beside her. “And I’m sure you had a lot of good memories to go with the bad.”

“Of course. It’s just that recently the bad seem to’ve outnumbered the good so badly.”

“Times change. That’s why we’re here, after all.”

“True enough.” She nodded, still gazing out the windows, then turned her head to look up at him. “True enough. You do have a way of helping me keep things in perspective, don’t you, Zoshua?”

“One tries,” he told her with a lurking smile, and bowed ever so slightly.

She chuckled warmly, and one of Mahkbyth’s eyebrows rose as he gazed speculatively at their backs.

“And some of us do it much better than—”

The sudden jingle of the bell over the door interrupted her, and she turned as a customer entered the store.

It was very late—thirty minutes or so after Mahkbyth’s normal closing time, in fact, although his hours had always been flexible—and he’d sent Zhak Myllyr home almost an hour ago. Fortunately, he’d been doing that for the last couple of five-days, since Myllyr’s wife was in the final month of her third pregnancy and she’d been having a difficult time of it. That had provided a perfect pretext for ridding himself of the Inquisition’s spy in his shop.

Unless, of course, another and far more dangerous spy had just entered it by the front door.

“Major,” he said, and the newcomer stopped just inside the shop vestibule, blue eyes a shade or two lighter than Nimue Alban’s narrowing as he saw Nynian and Murphai.

He was a tall man, only two or three inches shorter than Murphai, with longish brown hair worn in the rather old-fashioned style of braid favored in his native Trellheim, and he wore the uniform of the Temple Guard.

“Ahrloh,” he replied after a moment. “I hadn’t realized you’d have other customers. This late, I mean.”

“I’m not surprised,” Murphai said easily before Mahkbyth could respond. “On the other hand, Major, we’ve been after hours customers of Ahrloh’s for quite some time.”

“I see.” The major looked back and forth between the tall, fair-haired seijin and Mahkbyth. “Of course, I’m sure you can understand why a man in my position might feel a little … uneasy, under the circumstances.”

“I’d be astonished if you didn’t,” Nynian said, standing a couple of strides behind Murphai as she spoke for the first time. “I’m sure you’d be equally astonished if we didn’t feel the same way, Major.”

“I suppose I would be,” he acknowledged, frowning slightly as he looked at her. “That would be the natural response, wouldn’t it … Madam Phonda?”

“Of course it would,” she said calmly. If she was particularly perturbed by his recognition, she didn’t show it.

“I was under the impression I’d be meeting only with Ahrloh,” the major said. “In fact, he’s the only one I’m authorized to meet with tonight.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re in something of an awkward situation,” Nynian told him. His shoulders tightened ever so slightly, and she smiled. “You’re the one who initiated contact. And I’m afraid that the fact that you’ve recognized me provides you with information you didn’t have—information that might start the Inquisition looking in directions I’d really rather it didn’t if you were to pass it along to someone like, oh, Wyllym Rayno or Allayn Wynchystair. That being the case, I’m afraid we have to insist you lay your own cards on the table.”

“There’s a limit to how many cards I’m authorized to show,” he replied slowly. “And I was only authorized to show even them to Ahrloh.”

“Understandably,” Murphai said, eyes narrowing slightly at the confirmation that the major wasn’t acting solely on his own. “I’m afraid Madam Phonda has a point, though.”

“And I’m afraid I can’t go beyond that point without discussing it with … my superior first,” the major said firmly. “I’m sure he’ll authorize me to tell you a great deal more than he already has, but until he does, I’m not in a position to do that.”

“Then we’re at an impasse, because I really can’t allow you to leave until Madam Phonda is satisfied with your bona fides.”

“You can’t allow me to leave,” the major repeated, eyeing the taller but obviously unarmed seijin. “Forgive me for asking this, but what are the odds you could stop me from leaving?”

“Better than average,” Murphai replied with a slow smile.

“I think not.” The major’s hand started for the butt of the pistol holstered at his side. “With all due—”

He broke off as Murphai’s hand darted out with impossible speed, almost too quickly to be seen. That hand swept in past his own and plucked the pistol effortlessly from his holster.

Alarm flared in his eyes, and he reached for the hilt of his sword, instead. But he never touched it. Murphai’s other hand snapped out and closed on his forearm like a hand-shaped version of one of the hydraulic presses in Lynkyn Fultyn’s foundry. It wasn’t a brutal grip, or a punishing one. It was simply totally inescapable and unbreakable, and Murphai’s hand didn’t so much as quiver even when the major threw his full, solidly muscled weight against it.

He wasted a full ten seconds trying to wrench free, then stopped. It was obviously useless, but that wasn’t the reason he’d stopped, and a strange, eager, deeply relieved light seemed to glow in his blue eyes.

“You truly are a seijin, aren’t you?” he said very softly.

“People keep saying that,” Murphai replied, with an odd little smile.

The major looked back and forth between him and Nynian, then inhaled deeply.

“The Writ says seijins are God’s chosen champions—His and Mother Church’s,” he said. “If that’s true, then I know you’ll understand why I can’t tell you more than I was authorized to.”

“Of course I do.” Murphai released his grip on the major’s arm, although he kept the pistol, and stepped back half a stride. That happened to place him directly between the Guard officer and Nynian. “But at the same time, I know you’ll understand our position. And while I can respect your loyalty, I think I could probably make a pretty fair guess at who your ‘superior’ is. If I’m right, he needs all the help he can get … and you’re the one who first made contact with us. So if you and he truly want our help in doing anything about this insanity, you really need to talk to us, Major Phandys.”