David Weber - How firm a foundation

“So you do have a little spine left,” Duchairn said with a thin, cold smile. “Pity it didn’t turn up earlier. And before you start in again, no, I’m not trying to pretend I wasn’t just as spineless and just as blind to the consequences as you were when Zhaspahr launched us on this little disaster. I’ve never pretended I wasn’t those things. The difference between us is that, yes, I am ashamed of myself, and there are limits to the additional complicity I’m willing to assume. And, frankly, I don’t really care if the thought of finding yourself all alone with Zhaspahr after I’m gone makes you feel threatened. I’m not looking for martyrdom, Zahmsyn. It might be better for my soul if I were, but I’m not prepared to go that far… yet, anyway. And I’m not going to have any public shouting matches with Zhaspahr. I undoubtedly should, but you and I both know it would be a futile gesture. So you just run along back to him and Allayn. The three of you go and eat your fried potato slices at the spectacle this afternoon. Drink your beer and enjoy the entertainment. But I’m not going to be there, because I’ve got something a lot more pressing to spend my time on. I’m sure that if Zhaspahr and that loathsome slime toad Rayno want to know where I am, they can ask Major Phandys. No doubt he’d be delighted to tell them. And if you want to tell him where I am, that’s fine with me too, because where I’ll be, Zahmsyn, is in the Temple praying for God’s forgiveness for not being out in that plaza denouncing Zhaspahr Clyntahn for the foul, sadistic murdering bastard he is!”

Rhobair Duchairn gave the Chancellor of the Church of God Awaiting one more cold, stony glare and slammed out of the office. Trynair stared after him, shocked and stunned by the power of the Treasurer’s denunciation, and listened to the boots of Duchairn’s “personal guard,” clattering down the hallway behind Major Khanstahnzo Phandys as the lot of them tried to keep up with the furiously striding Treasurer.

“Well, I see Zahmsyn has finally deigned to join us,” Zhaspahr Clyntahn said, watching from the central platform as the Chancellor slipped unobtrusively into the silent, watching ranks of the Church’s vicars. “Better late than never, I suppose. And where do you think our good friend Rhobair might be, Wyllym?”

“Somewhere else, Your Grace,” Wyllym Rayno replied with a sigh. “I’m afraid his absence is going to be remarked upon.”

“Of course it is.” Clyntahn spoke from the corner of his mouth, lips scarcely moving as he looked out across the packed approaches to the Plaza of Martyrs. “That’s why the bastard’s doing it!”

“I agree, Your Grace, but I trust we’re not going to make the mistake of underestimating him.”

“Underestimate Rhobair Duchairn? ” Clyntahn snorted. “That would be extraordinarily difficult to do, Wyllym! Oh, I’ll grant you he’s got more guts than Trynair, not to mention five or six times as much brains as Maigwair ever had. In fact, let’s be honest-if there’s one of the other three who’d ever have the courage and the willingness to speak out against the jihad, it would have to be Duchairn. But he’s not ready for an open break. And the truth is that whatever he may think, he never will be.”

“I’m… inclined to agree with you in most regards, Your Grace,” Rayno said, choosing his words with some care. “All the same, I can’t help thinking Vicar Rhobair has… changed a great deal over the last few years. I don’t think we can afford to overlook the possibility that he may change still further.”

“You mean grow big enough balls to consider an open confrontation with me?” Clyntahn asked calmly, turning to look directly at the Archbishop of Wu-shai for the first time. Rayno was obviously a bit nonplussed by the question, and the Grand Inquisitor chuckled coldly. “If it were just a matter of screwing up his nerve, he’d already have done it, Wyllym,” he said flatly. “Whatever I may think of him, I’m willing to admit he’s no coward. It’s not fear holding him back-not anymore, anyway. And I don’t need any spies to tell me he hates my guts, either. For that matter, I don’t need any Bedardists to tell me that somewhere down inside he’s come to hate himself, as well, for not ‘standing up to me,’ and that kind of hate can eat at a man until it finally drives him into doing something he’d never do otherwise. All of that’s true, but he’s still not going to push it to the point of an open break.”

“May I ask why you’re so certain of that, Your Grace?” Rayno asked cautiously.

“It’s very simple, really.” Clyntahn shrugged. “If he pushes me into having him… removed, there won’t be anyone left to argue with me. You think Trynair or Maigwair are going to draw any lines and dare me to step across them?” The Grand Inquisitor’s laugh was a short, contemptuous bark. “Not in a thousand years, Wyllym. Not in a thousand years! And Rhobair knows that. He knows all his precious projects, all his ‘kinder, gentler’ plans and pious aspirations, any possibility of ‘restraining my excesses,’ will go straight into the crapper with him, and he’s not going to let that happen. The way he sees it, the only chance he has for redemption is to do some good in the world to make up for all those years when he was just as committed as any of the rest of us to the practical side of maintaining Mother Church’s authority. He can’t do that if he’s dead, and that, more than any fear of the Question or the Punishment, is what’s going to stop him. He’ll always be able to find some way to rationalize not coming directly at me because it’s up to him to do whatever he can to minimize the ‘damage’ I’m doing.”

Rayno simply looked at him. For once, even the Schuelerite adjutant was at a loss for words, and Clyntahn chuckled again, more naturally.

“Rhobair, unfortunately, is one of those people who believe man actually has a better nature. He genuinely thinks he can appeal to that ‘kinder, gentler’ side he’s sure most everyone really has. He doesn’t recognize that the reason God gave Schueler authority to decree the discipline of Mother Church is that, thanks to Shan-wei, man has no better nature. Not any longer, anyway. God and Langhorne tried Rhobair’s idea of loving gentleness, of begging men to do the right thing, and mankind repaid them by embracing Shan-wei’s foulness. What? Rhobair thinks he’s greater than Holy Langhorne? Greater than God Himself? That mankind is going to suddenly discover a ‘better nature’ it hasn’t had since the very dawn of Creation just because he, the great Rhobair Duchairn, is determined to appeal to it?”

The Grand Inquisitor’s lips worked as if he wanted to spit on the ground, but he made himself draw a deep breath, nostrils flaring.

“Whatever may be going through his mind, he’s simply incapable of understanding that man won’t embrace God’s will and accept God’s authority without the iron rod of discipline. Humans have demonstrated again and again that unless they’re made to do what they know God wants them to do, they won’t do it. They have neither the wit, nor the will, nor the understanding to do it, and they’re too dull-witted even to recognize their own stupidity without us to make God’s will plain to them!

“That’s why Rhobair doesn’t understand the Inquisition’s job, its responsibilities-its duty. He’s not willing to admit what has to be done, so he pretends it doesn’t have to be. He’s willing to condemn us for doing it, as long as his hands are clean, and he genuinely believes we’re unnecessarily harsh. That we could renounce that iron rod if we were only willing to. Well, we can’t, unless we’re prepared to see everything Mother Church stands for go down in ruin, but that’s all right. Because as long as he believes he can continue to do things ‘behind the scenes’ to mitigate our ‘excesses,’ he’ll go right on preserving his ability to do them. He’ll make whatever compromises with his own soul he has to in order to accomplish that. And what that means, Wyllym, is that it would be almost impossible to drive him to a point where he decided he had nothing left to lose and came at us openly, because he’ll go right on clinging to that responsibility to do good to offset our ‘evil.’”