David Weber - How firm a foundation

“As you say, Your Grace,” Rayno murmured with a slight bow.

“Very well.” Clyntahn’s nostrils flared as he inhaled, then he shook himself. “The Sword of Schueler?”

“That operation is slightly behind schedule, Your Grace. I’m afraid it’s taking a bit longer-partly because the winter was so severe-to lay the groundwork properly. We’re also encountering more delays than we’d anticipated in finding the… properly receptive sons of Mother Church. We’re making steady progress now, however. The organization is going well, and I hope to be able to have everything in place in the next month or two. In the meantime, our inquisitors have confirmed that Cahnyr, at least, is in Siddar City. They’re not certain how he got there, and no one’s figured out how he managed to get out of Glacierheart in the first place, but he’s increasingly visible in Reformist circles.”

“And our good friend Stohnar remains blissfully unaware of his presence, I suppose?” Clyntahn sneered.

“So it would appear, Your Grace.” Rayno smiled thinly. “For such a successful ruler, the Lord Protector appears to be singularly ill-informed about events in his own realm. Or perhaps I should say he appears selectively ill-informed. Archbishop Praidwyn is still en route to Siddar, but Bishop Executor Baikyr reports that he’s pointedly drawn Lord Protector Greyghor’s attention to the growing boldness of Reformist heretics in the Republic. In return, the Lord Protector has assured the Bishop Executor that his guardsmen are doing all they can to assist the Inquisition in dealing with the regrettable situation.”

His eyes met Clyntahn’s, and they grimaced almost in unison.

“Unfortunately,” Rayno continued, “all of his efforts to assist Bishop Executor Baikyr have failed. Despite his guard’s very best efforts, even fairly notorious Reformists seem to slip away before they can be taken into custody. Indeed, it’s almost as if they were being warned-by someone-that they’re about to be arrested. And so far, despite the persistent reports of Cahnyr’s presence in the capital, he continues to elude the authorities.”

Clyntahn made a harsh sound deep in his throat. The Inquisition had always relied heavily on secular rulers to assist in the suppression of heresy. Not even Mother Church could produce sufficient manpower to police all of Safehold against such dangerous thoughts and movements, and the system had worked well over the centuries. Yet that neatly summed up the problem they faced now, the Grand Inquisitor thought grimly, because it was no longer working… and no Grand Inquisitor, including him, had seen the current breakdown coming. He’d been caught as unawares by it as anyone, and though he was expanding the Order of Schueler as rapidly as he could, it took years to properly train an inquisitor. In the meantime, he continued to have no choice but to rely on the secular authorities, and too many of those authorities were clearly more interested in hampering the Inquisition than in aiding it.

“Perhaps Archbishop Praidwyn will be able to inspire the Lord Protector to be of somewhat greater assistance,” he said, then smiled. “And if he can’t, there’s always the Sword of Schueler, isn’t there?”

“Indeed, Your Grace,” Rayno agreed with an answering smile.

“And Operation Rakurai?”

“The men have been selected,” Rayno said in a much graver voice. “All of them have been carefully examined and vetted, Your Grace, and I have their dossiers for you to consider at your convenience. The arrangements to deliver them are almost complete, as well. Once you’ve made your final selections, we’ll be able to move rapidly to put them in place.”

“You’re satisfied with them?”

“With all of them, Your Grace,” Rayno replied firmly. “We haven’t told any of them exactly what Rakurai will entail, of course. I’ve tried to provide you with at least twice the number of recruits you requested in order to give you the greatest possible latitude in making your final choices. In addition, of course, I’m sure we’ll be able to find… other uses for men with such deep faith and fervor. But as you’ve so rightly stressed from the beginning, security is of critical importance, for this mission especially. We can’t afford to have anyone not directly involved in it privy to any of its details.”

“But you’re confident all of them will be willing to undertake the mission when the time comes?”

“I’m certain of it, Your Grace. These men are truly committed to the will of God and to the Archangels’ service and Mother Church, and they know abomination when they see it.” The archbishop shook his head. “They won’t flinch in the face of Shan-wei herself, Your Grace, far less the prospect of any mortal foe.”

“Good, Wyllym,” Zhaspahr Clyntahn said softly. “Good.” . II.

HMS Royal Charis, 58, and Archbishop’s Palace, City of Tellesberg, Kingdom of Old Charis

“Thank God,” Nahrmahn Baytz said with quiet, heartfelt fervor as he watched the Tellesberg waterfront creep steadily (if slowly) closer. “I’ve come to the conclusion, all of Nahrmahn Gareyt’s dreadful novels about buccaneer kingdoms notwithstanding, that while I may be an island prince, I am not a swashbuckling one.”

“Don’t worry,” Cayleb Ahrmahk reassured him. “I doubt anyone’s going to expect you to be one. In fact, the mind boggles at the thought.”

“Oh?” Nahrmahn looked at his emperor with raised eyebrows. “Are you implying that I cut a less than romantic figure, Your Majesty?”

“Heavens, no!” Cayleb looked shocked at the suggestion. “As a matter of fact, I think you cut a much more romantic figure than you did before we left Cherayth. Or a considerably thinner one, anyway.”

“Don’t tease him, Your Majesty,” Princess Ohlyvya scolded. “And as for you, Nahrmahn, you cut quite romantic enough a figure for me. And I’d better not catch you cutting romantic figures for anyone else!”

“Somehow I don’t think you’re saving him from being teased, Ohlyvya,” Cayleb pointed out.

“I didn’t say I was trying to. With all due respect, Your Majesty, I was simply pointing out that he belongs to me. If there’s any teasing to do, I’ll do it.”

Cayleb smiled, although it was true Nahrmahn had dropped quite a few pounds during the long, strenuous voyage. He didn’t doubt for a moment that the Emeraldian could scarcely wait to get his feet on dry land once more.

If the truth be told, Cayleb was more anxious than usual to get ashore himself. The trip from Chisholm had been the most exhausting voyage he could remember, with one ugly storm after another, and his role as a mere passenger had kept him effectively confined below decks the entire time. For some reason, Captain Gyrard seemed to object to having his sovereign on the quarterdeck when everyone had to be lashed into place with lifelines. After the first couple of real blows, Cayleb had discovered he lacked the heart to overrule the captain’s obviously sincere (and worried) objections and accepted his banishment below. Not that the captain hadn’t had a valid point, he supposed. The mountainous seas had frequently reared as high as twenty-five or thirty feet, and their power had been mind-numbing. The unending succession of impacts had left Royal Charis ’ crew and passengers feeling as if they’d been beaten black and blue, and the ship’s carpenter had been kept busy dealing with a host of minor repairs. The boatswain had been kept busy, as well, as sails and gear carried away aloft, and one of their escorting galleons had disappeared for three days. If not for the imagery from Merlin’s SNARCs, Cayleb would have assumed she’d gone down, and at one point, as his flagship had driven before the wind under nothing but bare poles, giving up heartbreaking miles of her hard-won western progress, he hadn’t been at all sure Royal Charis wasn’t going to founder herself-a point he’d been very careful not to discuss with Sharleyan at the time.