David Weber - How firm a foundation

More than one of the people in that cathedral stared at him in something very like shock. Not at what they were hearing, but at who they were hearing it from. This was Maikel Staynair, the gentle shepherd-the archbishop who’d cried out for understanding and compassion from the very same pulpit in which he stood today with the blood of his own intended assassins splashed across his vestments. Yet there was no gentleness in him this day.

“As today’s Scripture tells us, ‘That one shall be accursed in the eyes of God. Every man’s hand shall be against him. As he sows, so shall he reap, and the mercy he denies to others shall be denied to him in his turn.’” The archbishop’s voice was ribbed with iron, and his eyes were harder yet. “The Church of Charis does not torture, does not murder, does not massacre-not even in the name of God, far less in the name of foul and vaunting ambition! The Empire of Charis will not strike out blindly, will not mistake the unwilling servant for the corrupt and despicable master. No doubt there will come a reckoning for King Rahnyld, in the fullness of time, yet Rahnyld is nothing. He is only a servant, a slave of his masters in Zion, and we know our true enemies. We know the hand behind this crime. We know the twisted mind and the withered soul which commanded it. We know whose hand this blood is truly on, and we will remember. We will remember… and we will call that hand to account.”

Bared steel clashed in the depths of that promise, and he looked out over the shocked, silent cathedral.

“I have consulted with Emperor Cayleb and Empress Sharleyan about this matter,” he said quietly, flatly. “I have urged from the beginning that we leave justice to be done by the Crown, and so I urge now. I beg all of you, as God’s children, to refrain from seeking objects of vengeance. Those Temple Loyalists who live in the Empire had nothing to do with this! The vast, vast majority of Temple Loyalists living even in Dohlar had nothing to do with this. It was done not at the orders of the Dohlaran Navy or the Dohlaran Army, but at the orders of the Inquisition and of that unspeakably vile individual whose every breath profanes the vicar’s robe he wears. And because it was, the Empire of Charis and the Church of Charis will not strike out at the innocent or those who had no choice but to obey corruption’s orders.”

He drew himself up to his full impressive height, and his voice rolled with harsh thunder.

“No doubt there are those who will argue that we should carry out reprisals against the far greater number of prisoners who lie in our hands. That we should make clear to the kings and princes who oppose us in the service of the Group of Four that we will treat their surrendered soldiers and sailors precisely as they treat ours. But we are called upon to wield the sword of justice, my children, not the sword of blind vengeance. Your Emperor and Empress will not dishonor themselves or stain the honor of those who serve in our Navy and our Marines and our Army with the murder of those who have done nothing but follow their officers’ orders and fight honorably and openly upon the field of battle.

“But- but, my children!-the Inquisition has shown itself to be the enemy of all mankind. Whatever it may once have been, it has fallen into the grasp of men like Zhaspahr Clyntahn who have distorted and twisted it into something which it may never be possible to cleanse again. Its members have become not servants of God but His enemies. God gave all men free will, the ability to choose, and they have chosen to serve the Dark, instead.

“So be it. ‘As he sows, so shall he reap, and the mercy he denies to others shall be denied to him in his turn.’ There will be no torture, but neither will there be mercy. From this day forth, Inquisitors-not simply intendants, not simply Schuelerites, but those in the direct and personal service of the Grand Inquisitor-shall receive precisely what the Writ promises them. As they have chosen to deny mercy to others, it will be denied to them. Soldiers and sailors may be allowed to surrender and receive the humane, honorable treatment to which their actions have entitled them; Inquisitors will not. Let the word go forth, my children. Let there be no ambiguity, no misunderstanding. Those who wish to renounce the distorted and twisted policies and commands of Zhaspahr Clyntahn are free to do so. They may still face trial and punishment for acts they have already committed, but they will be granted that trial. And for those who do not wish to renounce their allegiance to Zhaspahr Clyntahn, who continue to willingly lend themselves to his acts of murder and terrorism and torture, there will be a different policy. The only trial they will receive is to determine whether or not they truly are servants of the Inquisition, and if they are so found to be, there will be only one sentence, and that sentence will be executed upon them immediately and without appeal, just as surely as, in the fullness of time and God’s good grace, it will be executed upon Zhaspahr Clyntahn himself.” . III.

Sairaih’s Tavern, City of Tellesberg, Kingdom of Old Charis

Ainsail Dahnvahr had forgotten how good real Charisian beer tasted. His father had been willing to pay the premium for Charisian beer when Ainsail was younger, and he’d developed a taste for it. Of course, that had changed abruptly when the kingdom of Rahzhyr Dahnvahr’s birth turned against Mother Church, although Ainsail was pretty sure his father would have gone ahead paying for the imported beer if that hadn’t become so… indiscreet in the Temple Lands.

It shamed him to admit that, but there was no point trying to pretend otherwise. His father’s faith was weak, no match for the fervor of Ainsail’s mother’s belief. Or Ainsail’s, for that matter. There’d been times Ainsail had suspected that deep in the secret places of his own heart his father was still a Charisian first and a servant of God second, and that had caused him more than shame. That suspicion was the mother of pain, and twice Ainsail had almost mentioned his father’s Charisian sympathies to one of the Inquisition’s agents.

I should have, he thought now, staring down into the beer mug. God forgive me, I should have. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

He took another swallow of beer, trying to wash away the sour taste in his mouth, the knowledge that he’d failed God and the Archangel Schueler. And he wasn’t even positive why. He knew his mother still loved his father dearly, despite Rahzhyr’s lack of conviction. That was the reason he hadn’t informed the Inquisition. He was sure of it. And yet…

Memories flowed through him. Memories of a time when he’d been a boy, not a young man faced with his father’s weakness. Memories of riding on his father’s shoulders, laughing as his father tickled him or wrestled with him. Memories of his father’s hands teaching him the use of plane and miter saw and lathe. Memories of when Rahzhyr Dahnvahr was the tallest, strongest, smartest, most handsome man in all of Ainsail’s world. And as those memories glowed through his mind once more, the suspicion returned. It wasn’t his mother’s love for his father which had made him too weak to do what he knew he should have done.

Well, no mortal man was perfect. Not his father, and certainly not him. But if he was as strong as he could be, and if he truly trusted in God, then he would find he had strengths as well as weaknesses, and he would learn how to use the steel in his soul to offset the soft and flabby iron. And whatever his father’s faults, however badly his father might have failed or the weakness of his father’s convictions, there was nothing wrong with Ainsail’s faith. He’d proven that to Archbishop Wyllym’s satisfaction, and Vicar Zhaspahr had personally chosen him for his mission. That was enough to awaken the sin of pride in any man, however hard Ainsail might fight against it. But perhaps God would forgive him a little pride. And it wasn’t as if Ainsail could have accomplished his purpose without the aid of dozens of others, most of whom he’d never met and none of whom knew who he truly was.