David Weber - How firm a foundation

“You’ve thought of something, haven’t you?” Maik challenged. The earl looked at him, and the auxiliary bishop chuckled. “I’ve seen that blink of yours before, my son. Out with it!”

“Well, I don’t know how practical it might be, but one possible solution to this new weapon of theirs might be to find a way to prevent it from exploding inside our ships.”

“Prevent it from exploding? How?” Maik’s expression was perplexed, and Thirsk shook his head.

“Forgive me, My Lord. I should have phrased that more clearly. What I meant is that we have to find a way to prevent it from exploding inside our ships. To prevent it from penetrating our ships in the first place.”

“And how might we do that?”

“I’m not certain,” Thirsk acknowledged. “At the moment the only answer that suggests itself to me would be to somehow armor the sides of our vessels. I don’t think we could do it simply by increasing the thickness of their scantlings, though. That would seem to leave only some kind of protective layer-a sheath of iron, perhaps-applied to the outside of the planking.”

“Would that be possible?” Maik asked, his expression fascinated, and Thirsk shrugged again.

“That’s a question to ask the ironmasters, My Lord. What I can already tell you from our experience with arming our galleons, though, is that producing that much iron would be-if you’ll pardon the expression-hellishly expensive. I’m not at all sure what it would do to stability, either. Nonetheless, it’s the only solution that suggests itself to me at this point.”

“Expensive or not, it sounds to me as if you might be onto something here, my son.” Maik nodded enthusiastically. “Write up your thoughts on this for Vicar Allayn, please. I’d like to send them off to the Temple with my next dispatch.”

“Of course, My Lord,” Thirsk said, but the enthusiasm had vanished from his voice once more at the mention of dispatches to the Temple, and Maik cursed himself for having brought them up. Not that he had much choice. Sooner or later he was going to have to talk about reports to the Temple, and Thirsk was going to have to provide those reports.

The auxiliary bishop stood for a moment, looking at the man whose loyalty to Mother Church he was charged to safeguard. Then he inhaled deeply.

“My son,” he said carefully. “Lywys. I know you’re unhappy about the orders concerning your prisoners.” Thirsk’s eyes narrowed, but Maik went on in that same careful, deliberate tone. “I know the logical arguments in support of your position, and I’ve already acknowledged you have a point in that regard. But I also know one reason for your unhappiness is how deeply it goes against your sense of honor, your integrity, to deliver those who surrendered to you and to whom you offered quarter to someone else’s justice.”

Those narrowed eyes glittered icily at the word “justice,” but Maik allowed no answering reaction to cross his own sternly expressionless face.

“You’re a good man, Lywys Gardynyr. One of whom I feel-I know- God approves. And a good father. Your daughters are godly women, their children are beautiful, and your sons-in-law are men much like you-men of integrity and honor. But Shan-wei’s most dangerous snares appeal not to the evil side of our natures, but to the good side. She can-and will-use your goodness against you if you give her the opportunity. And if that happens, the consequences of The Book of Schueler await you. I know you’re a man of courage. You’ve faced battle-and death-scores of times without letting that danger dissuade you, and I very much doubt a man such as you would allow any threat to dissuade you from doing what you believe is the right and honorable thing. But think carefully before you set out on a course such as that. The consequences you might face at the end of your journey would affect far more people than simply yourself.”

Rage glowed at the backs of Thirsk’s eyes, flaring like a furnace and no longer icy, at the unmistakable implication, but Maik continued unhurriedly.

“I’m a bishop of Mother Church, my son. I have no choice but to obey the ecclesiastic superiors I swore to obey the day I took my priest’s vows. You’re a layman, not a priest, yet it’s your duty to obey Mother Church as well, although”-his eyes bored suddenly into Thirsk-“I’m fully aware you’ve taken no personal vow, as I have, to obey the Grand Inquisitor’s instructions. Obviously, even though you’ve sworn no oath”-he emphasized the last three words ever so slightly-“you’d be bound by duty and integrity to obey him anyway. And if, as I do not anticipate for a moment, you might be tempted not to obey him at some point, that would not absolve you of your responsibility to consider the consequences for everyone else who might be affected by your actions and to be certain the innocent do not find themselves drawn into those consequences. Recall what the Holy Bedard said in the opening verses of the sixth chapter of her book. I commend her thought to you as you grapple with the heavy and complex burden God and the Archangels have laid upon your shoulders at this time.”

The anger vanished from Thirsk’s eyes, although the rest of his expression never even flickered. Silence hovered between them for several seconds as the earl looked back at the auxiliary bishop. Then he bowed slightly.

“I appreciate your concern,” he said quietly and sincerely. “And your advice. I assure you, My Lord, that I’ll think long and hard before I allow anything to affect my duty to Mother Church. And I’ll bear your advice-and the Holy Bedard’s-in mind at all times.”

“Good, my son.” Bishop Staiphan touched him on the shoulder. “Good.”

Much later, after Maik had departed for shore once more, Lywys Gardynyr crossed to his desk. He picked up his well-thumbed copy of the Holy Writ from his blotter, opened it, and leafed to the first three verses of the sixth chapter of The Book of Bedard. He didn’t really need to read the words; like any dutiful son of Mother Church, he knew his Scripture well. Yet he read them anyway, eyes moving across the beautifully printed and illustrated page.

Behold and heed, you who are mothers and you who are fathers. Let not your actions or inactions bring calamity and evil upon your children. Be instead a roof over their heads, be walls about their safety.

The time will come when they will become parents to you in your old age, but that time is not yet. Now is the time to teach, and to nurture-to love and to guard.

When peril approaches, go forth to meet it far from them, lest it threaten them, as well. When duty calls you into danger, put them first in a place of safety. And when the threat of the ungodly draws nigh, set them beyond evil’s reach before you ride out to battle, and do not let the hand of the wicked fall upon them.

Oh, yes, My Lord, he thought, gazing down at those words, I’ll bear your advice in mind. . III.

Imperial Palace, City of Tellesberg, Kingdom of Old Charis, and HMS Dawn Star, 58, Off Round Head, White Horse Reach, Princedom of Corisande

“I hate this.”

Sharleyan Ahrmahk sat on HMS Dawn Star ’s sternwalk, Crown Princess Alahnah sleeping on her shoulder, and gazed out across the galleon’s bubbling wake at blue water sparkling under a brilliant afternoon sun. Her canvas sling-chair moved gently under her with the ship’s motion, rocking her and the baby; a pleasant following breeze stirred errant strands of the long, black hair braided loosely down her back; and the green, smooth hills of Round Head rose out of White Horse Reach to her left. She was less than a hundred and fifty miles from the end of her wearisome voyage to Manchyr, and she could comfortably expect to reach it before tomorrow’s dawn.