David Weber - How firm a foundation

“As it happened, I was in a position to get to Talkyra rather more quickly than anyone else could have done it,” Zhevons continued. “So Seijin Merlin asked me to deliver the reply to your message.”

“Merlin?” Coris repeated.

He’d collected a great deal of information about Merlin Athrawes over the last three or four years. Most of it was preposterous and obviously grossly exaggerated. On the other hand, there was so much of it he’d been forced to accept that as ridiculous as it seemed, Athrawes truly was a seijin. Of course, no one seemed to be exactly sure what a seijin really was, and the old fairy tales about them didn’t help a lot in that regard, so simply pinning a label on Athrawes didn’t accomplish a great deal. On the other hand, the fact that this Zhevons had slipped-apparently effortlessly-through not simply Zhames of Delferahk’s admittedly inferior guardsmen but also past Tobys Raimair’s sentries, suggested “Should I assume you’re a seijin, too, Master Zhevons?”

“People keep asking me that,” Zhevons replied with an edge of exasperation. “They keep asking Merlin, too, I’m sure. And I think his response is probably the same as mine. I wouldn’t call myself a seijin, but I have to admit that Merlin and I both have some of the abilities legend ascribes to seijins. So if you absolutely have to have a label, I guess that one’s as good as any.”

“I see.” Coris smiled thinly, only too well aware of the surreal quality of this entire conversation. “On the other hand, according to my research, very few supposed seijins have ever called themselves seijins during their own lifetimes.”

“So I’ve heard,” Zhevons agreed pleasantly. “Now, about that message I’m here to deliver-?”

“By all means.” Coris tossed the dagger onto the bed, where it settled into the soft mattress, then seated himself in his dressing-table chair and crossed his legs as urbanely as a man surprised in his nightshirt could manage. “I’m all ears.”

“So I see.” Zhevons smiled briefly, but then his expression sobered. “First, the bad news: Earl Gray Harbor is dead.” Despite himself, Coris jerked upright, his mouth opening, but Zhevons continued speaking. “He was assassinated, along with several other members of the Imperial Council and prominent churchmen. Bishop Hainryk in Tellesberg, Archbishop Pawal in Cherayth, Bishop Stywyrt in Shalmar… they almost got Archbishop Fairmyn in Eraystor, too. And they did kill Prince Nahrmahn.”

Coris inhaled deeply, unable to hide his shock. He’d never met any of those men, but he’d corresponded frequently with Nahrmahn, back in the days when he and Hektor had been so consistently underestimating the little Emeraldian.

“How in God’s name-?”

“God had very little to do with it, although that probably won’t be Clyntahn’s version. Let’s just say there were several very large explosions-explosions that killed well over fifteen hundred men, women, and children in addition to the men I’ve just mentioned.” Zhevons’ expression was cold and bleak now. “The youngest victim we’ve identified so far was eighteen months old. Or would have been, if she’d lived another five-day.”

“Langhorne.” Revulsion twisted Coris’ face. “The man’s completely mad!”

“I’m afraid he’s just getting started, My Lord,” Zhevons said grimly. “Which is rather the point of this dramatic little visit, when you come down to it.”

“Yes, of course.” Coris gave himself a shake. “You say Earl Gray Harbor was killed. Obviously someone’s stepped into his shoes. May I ask who?”

“Earl Pine Hollow.”

“Ah!” Coris nodded. “An excellent choice, I think. I was always impressed by his correspondence.”

“My impression is that he’s more than competent,” Zhevons replied with a slight, amused smile. “At any rate, he’s read your message to Earl Gray Harbor, and he’s prepared to offer you, Princess Irys, and Prince Daivyn asylum. Obviously, there are going to be a few strings attached.”

“Obviously,” Coris agreed rather sourly, and Zhevons chuckled.

“It’s only reasonable, My Lord,” he pointed out.

“Knowing a tooth has to be pulled doesn’t make the trip to the dentist enjoyable, however ‘reasonable’ it may be,” Coris responded, then inhaled. “What would the ‘few strings’ be in this instance?”

“First, Their Majesties will require you to ‘go public,’ as I believe Emperor Cayleb put it, about Clyntahn’s involvement in the effort to assassinate Prince Daivyn and hand over any evidence you might have implicating him in Prince Hektor’s assassination.” He looked sharply at the earl. “Earl Pine Hollow and Their Majesties are assuming that since you’ve seen fit to request their protection for Irys and Daivyn against Church assassins you’ve come to the conclusion they didn’t have Hektor murdered after all.”

“To be honest,” Coris admitted with a sigh, “I’ve never thought Cayleb was behind that assassination. For a time I thought it might have been someone-a particularly stupid someone-trying to curry favor with him, but the more I thought about it, the more unlikely even that seemed. And I know Anvil Rock and Tartarian. There’s no way they would have been party to Hektor’s murder, whatever the Church’s propagandists have said about them since they agreed to sit on Daivyn’s Regency Council. Which only left one suspect, really, when it came down to it.” He shrugged. “I’m afraid, though, that I don’t have any evidence he ordered Hektor’s assassination. I do have the orders to… facilitate Daivyn ’s murder which my valet, Rhobair Seablanket, and I were sent by Archbishop Wyllym. They’re a bit obliquely phrased, but their meaning’s clear enough if you read between the lines. Of course, Rayno and Clyntahn are obviously going to denounce them as forgeries and us as paid liars.”

“Of course.” Zhevons shrugged. “On the other hand, given the way they’ve just assassinated over a dozen Charisians and murdered almost two thousand more of them, whereas Hektor is the only person Cayleb’s been accused of assassinating, I think you might say the preponderance of the evidence is going to be on Charis’ side in the court of public opinion.”

“It damned well is for anybody with a working brain, anyway,” Coris agreed grimly. “Very well, I can agree to that ‘string’ readily enough. And the next?”

“Cayleb and Sharleyan personally undertake to guarantee Irys’ and Daivyn’s safety. In fact, they propose to place both of them in the personal care of Archbishop Maikel. I think you know that, despite all the lies told about him by the Group of Four, Maikel would die himself before he permitted anyone under his protection to be harmed.”

Coris nodded silently.

“Whether or not Irys and Daivyn-especially Daivyn-will be allowed to leave Tellesberg is going to depend on a lot of different factors,” Zhevons continued. “According to the information I’ve received from Merlin, Their Majesties, Earl Pine Hollow, and Archbishop Maikel would all vastly prefer to see Daivyn returned to his father’s throne in accordance with the terms of the peace settlement signed in his name by his Regency Council.” His eyes met the earl’s. “If he can’t accept that in good conscience, no one will attempt to compel him to do so. However, under those circumstances he’ll remain Their Majesties’ ‘guest’ in Tellesberg indefinitely. I’ve been told to assure you he’ll be treated with all the respect his birth and title command, and that his person will be sacrosanct, but I’m afraid that stipulation is non-negotiable.”

“I assumed it would be,” Coris said heavily. “And I won’t pretend I’m delighted to hear it. Irys won’t like it, either. I think she’s genuinely accepted that Cayleb didn’t order her father killed, but in many ways, she still holds him responsible for Hektor’s death. If Charis hadn’t invaded Corisande, he’d still be alive, after all. That’s how she sees it, at any rate. I think she’s probably even prepared to admit-intellectually, and only under duress, possibly, but to admit-that Cayleb didn’t have much choice about invading, but what the head understands is sometimes difficult for the heart to accept, especially when you’re only twenty years old.”