The Usurper

18

“Excellent,” said Sidonicus, Exarch of Telnar, fingering the tiny, golden replica of a metal-ribbed torture rack slung about his neck, over the purple robes, standing behind a railing, circling the golden domelike roof of the high temple of Telnar, observing the smoke rising in the distance across the city.

“It is the judgment of Karch,” said a robed figure at his side.

“Karch provides,” said Sidonicus, devoutly.

“It is so,” said others about, pale, thin men, standing back, also robed, but in white.

“Let us sing a hymn of thanks, of praise,” said the fellow at the side of Sidonicus. He, as Sidonicus, wore purple, but of a lighter shade. Already gradations of the ministry were instituted, and a hierarchy emplaced. This did not, however, compromise the teachings of holy Floon, who had denounced such things.

“None will be allowed to escape, I trust,” said Sidonicus.

“No,” said the fellow at his side. “Orders were strict.”

“It is a miracle,” said one of the white-robed fellows in the background.

“Yes,” said another, “the false temple sprang spontaneously into flame.”

“At the very moment of its high services,” said another.

“A judgment,” said one of the men.

“Yes,” said another.

“Thus Karch speaks,” said a man.

“But would not many die?” asked a man, nervously.

“Heretics,” said another man.

“Let us hope the fire does not spread,” said a man. “Then more might die, many more, even those of the true faith.”

“Do not concern yourself,” said Sidonicus. “That very hour they will feast at the table of Karch.”

“True,” said the fellow at his side, in the lighter purple.

“It is so,” said more than one man on the roof.

“How is it that the temple was so suddenly and fully enfired?” asked a man wonderingly.

“It is miraculous,” said a man.

“It is so,” said several.

“One does not question the doings of Karch,” said another.

Sidonicus turned about.

“I did not mean to question such things!” said the fellow who had asked the question, frightened. “One does not question the doings of Karch!”

“Heresy is everywhere,” said Sidonicus.

“But not so much as before,” said a man.

There was a ripple of mirth, but it was soon silenced.

Sidonicus returned his attention to the smoke in the distance.

There was then a sighted lapse, a caving inward, of the distant, spired roof, then fallen, no longer pointing skyward, followed by a burst of flame, and more billowing smoke, and, a moment later, the sound of a distant crashing came to the ears of the observers.

“I heard cries, far off!” said a man. “Screams of agony.”

“It is your imagination,” said Sidonicus. “It is too far off.”

“Many would be trapped, choking, crushed, crying out, beneath the flaming timbers,” said a white-robed man.

“Heretics,” said Sidonicus.

“It would be a terrible way to die,” said one of the white-robed men.

“Heresy must be rooted out,” said Sidonicus.

“If necessary,” said the fellow in the lighter purple, “by fire and sword.”

“Those who thrust the brand of fire and cleave with the sword in the name of Karch do his holy work and are thrice blessed,” said one of the white-robed figures.

“It is so,” said another.

“Better,” said the fellow in the lighter purple, “that ten thousand should die such a death, or worse, than that one koos be led astray, even briefly.”

“It is so,” said a man.

“Your Excellency,” said a white-robed figure, one but now emerged onto the roof, “one below would speak to you, in your chambers.”

Sidonicus nodded.

“One who was expected?” said the man in lighter purple.

“Doubtless,” said Sidonicus, Exarch of Telnar.

He then looked again, into the distance, where smoke still stained the sky.

“May a hymn of praise be now raised?” inquired the fellow in the lighter purple.

“Yes,” said Sidonicus.

“This is a day of glory,” said his fellow, he in the lighter purple, to those about, behind the railing, on the roof. “Let us now raise a hymn of gladness, of joy, of thanksgiving! Let us sing praise, and glory, to Karch!”

“Let it be,” said Sidonicus, “‘I shall trust in the tenderness, love, and mercy of mighty Karch, who protects and shelters me, and destroys my enemies.’”

“It is so,” said the man in lighter purple, and nodded, at which signal the others on the roof began to intone the strains of the hymn, a solemn but joyous, swelling hymn, purportedly one of the most pleasing to Karch.

Sidonicus cast one last look at the distant smoke, and then went back, away from the railing, to the height of the narrow stairway leading down, into the precincts of the temple complex, through the vestry, past the chancel, to his private chambers, followed by the man in lighter purple.

“Your Excellency,” said the man in lighter purple.

“Yes, dear Fulvius?” said the exarch.

“He will want his gold,” said Fulvius.

“And he shall have it,” said the exarch.

“It seems ironic, if not deplorable,” said Fulvius, “that one should want pay for doing the work of Karch.”

“Nonetheless, he shall be paid,” said the exarch. “It is well known that the obligations of the servitors of Karch are inevitably and impeccably discharged.”

“I fear he knows too much,” said Fulvius.

“Perhaps,” said the exarch, “he will think the better of the matter, and be moved to restore the gold to the coffers of the temple.”

“I fear he may not be so benevolently disposed,” said Fulvius.

“The gold will be recovered,” said the exarch. “Arrangements are already in place.”

“And what of him?” asked Fulvius.

“He will be sent to the table of Karch,” said the exarch.

“Excellent,” said Fulvius.

“He knows too much,” said the exarch.

“What of the others,” asked Fulvius, “those who closed the street, cordoned off the area, guarded the exits, and slew any who might have tried to flee?”

“They know nothing,” said the exarch.

“They will miss their pay,” said Fulvius.

“They will be unable to find their paymaster,” said the exarch.

“Perhaps he has fled from the city,” said Fulvius.

“Perhaps,” said the exarch.

“This is a good day,” said Fulvius.

“Any day is a good day, on which is done the work of Karch,” said the exarch.

“It is so,” said Fulvius, humbly.

“I have a bottle of kana, a century old, brought from the highlands of the holy world itself, at great expense,” said the exarch. “I would be pleased if you would share a cup with me.”

“I would be honored, your Excellency,” said Fulvius.

“Let us descend,” said the exarch.

“After you,” said Fulvius.

The two men then left the roof of the temple.

Behind them, as they took their way downward, they could hear, for a time, the strains of the hymn.

In the distance, from the roof, more smoke could be seen, this suggesting that the fire might have spread.