David Weber - How firm a foundation

“I see, Your Majesty.” Wylsynn knew his voice still sounded puzzled, and Cayleb chuckled.

“You see that much, you mean, Father,” he said. “You’re still at sea about the rest of it, though, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid so, Your Majesty,” Wylsynn admitted.

“All will become clear shortly, Father. In fact,” the emperor’s expression sobered suddenly, “a great many things are about to become clear to you. Before we get into that, however, Maikel has a few things to say to you.”

Cayleb sat back in his chair, passing the conversation over to the archbishop, and Wylsynn turned to look at the head of the Church of Charis.

“What we’re about to tell you, Father,” Staynair’s voice was as sober as the emperor’s expression, “is going to come as a shock. In fact, even someone with your faith is going to find parts of it very difficult to believe… or to accept, at least. And I know-know from personal, firsthand experience, believe me-that it will completely change the way in which you look at the world. The decision to tell you wasn’t lightly made, nor was it made solely by the men you see in this room at this moment. The truth is that I sent you to Saint Zherneau’s for more than one reason, my son. I did send you there because of the spiritual crisis you faced, and I was absolutely honest with you when I told you I’d experienced a similar crisis many years ago and found answers to it at Saint Zherneau’s.

“What I didn’t tell you at that time was the way in which what I learned at Saint Zherneau’s changed my faith. I believe it broadened and deepened that faith, yet honesty compels me to say it might just as easily have destroyed my belief forever, had it been presented to me in even a slightly different fashion. And the second reason I sent you to Father Zhon and Father Ahbel was to give them the opportunity to meet you. To come to know you. To be brutally honest, to evaluate you… and how you might react to the same knowledge.”

Wylsynn sat very still, eyes fixed on the archbishop’s face, and somewhere deep inside he felt a taut, singing tension. That tension rose, twisting higher and tighter, and his right hand wrapped its fingers around his pectoral scepter.

“The reason for this meeting tonight is that the Brethren decided it would be best to share that same knowledge with you. Not the safest thing to do, perhaps, and not necessarily the wisest, but the best. The Brethren feel-as I do-that you deserve that knowledge, yet it’s also a two-edged sword. There are dangers in what we’re about to tell you, my son, and not just spiritual ones. There are dangers for us, for you, and for all the untold millions of God’s children living on this world or who may ever live upon it, and I fear it may bring you great pain. Yet I also believe it will ultimately bring you even greater joy, and in either case, I would never inflict it upon you if not for my deep belief that one of the reasons God sent you to Charis in the first place was to receive exactly this knowledge.”

He paused, and Wylsynn drew a shaky breath. He looked around the other faces, saw the same solemnity in all of them, and a part of him wanted to stop the archbishop before he could utter another word. There was something terrifying about the stillness, about those expressions, and he realized he believed every word Staynair had already said. Yet behind his terror, beyond the fear, lay something else. Trust.

“If your purpose was to impress me with the seriousness of whatever you’re about to tell me, Your Eminence, you’ve succeeded,” he said after a moment, and felt almost surprised his voice didn’t quiver around the edges.

“Good,” Cayleb said, reclaiming the thread of the conversation, and Wylsynn’s eyes went to the emperor. “But before we get any further into this, there’s one other person who needs to be party to the discussion.”

Wylsynn’s eyebrows rose, but before he could frame the question, even to himself, the door between Staynair’s spacious office and Ushyr’s much more humble adjoining cubicle opened and a tall, blue-eyed man in the cuirass and chain mail of the Imperial Guard stepped through it.

The intendant’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Everyone in Tellesberg knew Merlin Athrawes had been sent to Zebediah and Corisande to protect Empress Sharleyan and Crown Princess Alahnah. At that moment, he was almost seven thousand miles from Tellesberg Palace as a wyvern might have flown. He couldn’t possibly be here!

Yet he was.

“Good afternoon, Father Paityr,” Merlin said in his deep voice, one hand stroking his fierce mustachios. “As I told you once in King Haarahld’s presence, I believe in God, I believe God has a plan for all men, everywhere, and I believe it’s the duty of every man and woman to stand and contend for Light against the Darkness. That was the truth, as you confirmed for yourself, but I’m afraid I wasn’t able to tell you all the truth then. Today I can.”

Paityr Wylsynn’s face was ashen, despite his deeply tanned complexion.

Twilight had settled beyond the windows while Merlin, Cayleb, and Staynair took turns describing the Journal of Saint Zherneau. The blows to Wylsynn’s certainty had come hard and fast, and he knew now why Merlin was present. It was hard enough to believe the truth-even to accept that it might be the truth-with the seijin sitting there watching his face in the archbishop’s office when Wylsynn had known he was thousands of miles away.

Of course, the fact he’s here doesn’t necessarily prove everything they’ve just told you is the truth, Paityr, does it? his Schuelerite training demanded. The Writ tells us there are such things as demons, and who but a demon could have made the journey Merlin claims to have made in this “recon skimmer” of his?

Yet even as he asked himself that, he knew he didn’t believe for a moment that Merlin was a demon. In many ways, he wished he did. Things would have been so much simpler, and he would never have known his deep and abiding faith had been built entirely upon the most monstrous lie in human history, if only he’d been able to believe that. The priest in him, and the young seminarian he’d been even before he took his vows, cried out to turn away. To reject the lies of Shan-wei’s demon henchman before they completed the corruption of his soul-a corruption which must have begun well before this moment if he could accept even for an instant that Merlin wasn’t a demon.

And he couldn’t reject them as lies. That was the problem. He couldn’t.

A nd not just because of all those examples of “technology” Merlin’s just demonstrated, either, he thought starkly. All those doubts of yours, all those questions about how God could have permitted someone like Clyntahn to assume such power. They’re part of the reason you believe every single thing these people have just told you. But all the things they’ve said still don’t answer the questions! Unless the answer is simply so obvious you’re afraid to reach out and touch it. If it’s all truly a lie, if there truly are no Archangels and never were, then what if God Himself was never anything but a lie? That would explain His permitting Clyntahn to murder and kill and maim in His name, wouldn’t it? Because He wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort… since He never existed in the first place.

“I’m sorry, Father,” Merlin said softly. “I’m sorry we’ve had to inflict this on you. It’s different for me. One thing my experience here on Safehold has taught me is that I’ll never truly be able to understand the shock involved in having all that absolute, documented certainty snatched out from under you.”

“That’s… a very good way to describe it, actually, Seijin Merlin. Or should I call you Nimue Alban?”