Robert Salvatore: Mortalis

Palmaris. Markwart had done well in his last days to win over the folk, had (come to the city under flags of honor, with glorious trumpets blaring. He | had reconciled, through Francis, with the merchants by compensating them for De'Unnero's confiscation of their magical gemstones. He had taken on King Danube privately; the peasants knew little of that skirmish. Perhaps old Je'howith was indeed speaking wisely, the young monk had to concede. Perhaps treating Markwart's memory with a bit of mercy would serve them all well in the coming days.

"What is your second demand?" Braumin asked.

Je'howith paused, a telling hesitation to perceptive Braumin. "There is a vacancy within the Church, obviously," the old man began solemnly.

Braumin nodded for him to continue. Of course he knew what Je'howith might be hinting at, but he wasn't about to make this any easier on the old wretch.

"Master Engress is dead," Je'howith went on, "and while Father Abbot Markwart might have desired to see young Master Francis as his heir, it is obvious that such a thing cannot come to pass now. Never would so young and inexperienced a man be accepted as father abbot. Many do not even truly accept him as a master."

"He would have been eligible for the tide this coming spring," Braumin replied. "His tenth year."

"And you?" Je'howith asked, his tone offering to Braumin a trade-off of support. "A year ahead of Francis and not yet even a master. Have you enough years, Brother Braumin, to be elected as an abbot of an abbey as prominent and important as St. Precious? "

Braumin knew that Je'howith's words of opposition against him and Francis would sound reasonable to any gathering of abbots and masters. If Je'howith was to claim that Markwart, delusional and ill, erred in promoting Francis prematurely, then how might Braumin and Francis, both attempting to discredit Markwart on just those grounds, make the opposite case? Despite that, Braumin remained steadfast and would not follow Je'howith to that which he apparently desired. "No," he said simply. "You are asking me to support you in a bid for the title of father abbot, but that I cannot do."

Je'howith's eyes narrowed and his lips became very thin.

"Even Master Francis will not back you," Braumin said bluntly. "And as he was deeply connected to the Father Abbot, as were you, his abandonment of your cause will ring loudly in the ears of the other electors."

Braumin did not blink, matching the angry man's stare. "It will not be you, Abbot Je'howith," he said. "Never were you prepared for such a position, and your allegiance to the King in a time such as this-when the lines between Church and Crown have been so blurred, when the people have so turned against your former ally, Markwart-is not a desirable trait."

For a long while, Je'howith seemed to Braumin to be composing a retort, perhaps even a tirade, but then there came a call that King Danube was in the building, and the news seemed to calm the old abbot dramatically. Braumin understood the change, for Je'howith had been put under great pressure by King Danube to put the Abellican house in order, a demand the King would not debate.

"Who then?" Je'howith asked sharply. "The woman? "

Braumin shrugged and wound up shaking his head. "IfJilseponie would accept the nomination…"

Je'howith began resolutely shaking his head.

"As your Father Abbot desired, by the interpretation of Master Francis," Braumin pointedly added. "Then I, and Francis and many others, would back her with all our hearts."

"I am not so sure that Brother Francis' heart remains strong on this issue," Je'howith said slyly.

"We could rally enough support without him," Braumin insisted; though in truth, he didn't believe his declaration. He knew that Francis was indeed leaning against Pony's nomination now, and that without Francis-or even with him-selling the idea of a mother abbess at all, let alone someone not even formally affiliated with the Church, would be no easy task!

"And you would tear the Abellican Church apart," Je'howith insisted.

"And better our Church of Avelyn might be for that!" Braumin snapped back. "But no, fear not, forJilseponie has declined the offer. She will not be the next leader of the Abellican Church."

"Who then?" Je'howith asked. "Does young Braumin reach so high?"

Indeed, Braumin had been considering that very thing, though while his closest friends, Castinagis and Viscenti, had thought it a wonderful notion, even Brother Francis had hesitated. Francis had been very blunt with Braumin, telling him that he was too young and far too inexperienced to be accepted by the other leaders, and far too naive to handle the realities of the politics that would accompany such a position.

IfJe'howith had given him any hint of softening, though, Braumin might have continued to consider the try.

"You are not nearly ready," Je'howith said, and Braumin recognized that the man was speaking sincerely. "Perhaps if you backed me and I was elected, I would consider taking you as my protege."

"No," Braumin returned without hesitation. "It will not be you, Abbot Je'howith."

Je'howith started to say something, but paused and sighed. "There is Abbot Olin of St. Bondabruce in Entel."

Braumin bristled visibly, shaking his head.

"He will be a strong candidate," Je'howith replied.

"His ways are more attuned to those of Behren than those of Honce-theBear," Braumin pointed out; and it was true enough, and everyone in the Church knew it. Entel was Honce-the-Bear's southernmost major city, on the coast in the northern foothills of the Belt-and-Buckle, a mountain range that separated the kingdom from Behren. Entel's sister city was, in fact, Jacintha, Behren's seat of power, located on the coast in the southern foothills of that same range, a short boat ride from Entel.

"Even so, if we, who have witnessed the drama of the last weeks, do not present a unified front, Abbot Olin will likely win the day," Je'howith replied.

"But you-as I-do not think him a wise choice."

Je'howith shrugged.

"There are many masters of St.-Mere-Abelle qualified in experience and in temperament," Braumin suggested. He saw that Je'howith was obviously not enamored of the idea. "Fio Bou-raiy and Machuso."

"Bou-raiy is not ready, and is too angry; and Machuso spends his days, every day, with peasants," Je'howith said. "Better another-Agronguerre of St. Belfour, perhaps."

Braumin had no answer; he hardly knew the abbot of that northernmost Honce-the-Bear abbey, St. Belfour in the wilds of the kingdom's Vanguard region.

"Yes, Abbot Agronguerre would be a fine choice," Je'howith said.

Braumin started to ask why, but he stopped short, recalling an image from the previous year's College of Abbots, the only time he had ever seen Abbot Agronguerre of St. Belfour. The man had been sitting right beside Je'howith, chatting easily, as if the two were old friends.

Only then did Brother Braumin appreciate that Je'howith had led him to this point purposefully. Je'howith hadn't held serious thoughts of becoming the next father abbot. Of course not, for his ties to the King were too great and many of the other abbots, involved in continual power struggles with regional dukes or barons, would outright oppose his ascent.

"There are other masters at St.-Mere-Abelle-" Braumin started.

"Who will not even attempt to gain the post if Brother Braumin and his friends, the very monks who witnessed the demise of Markwart, were to throw in their votes for an abbot of a different abbey," Je'howith interrupted.

Brother Braumin chuckled at the absurdity of it all and admitted to himself that Francis had been correct in assessing that he, Braumin, was not yet ready for the politics of the position of father abbot.

"Go and ask Master Francis, if you wish," Je'howith offered, "or any of your other friends who might know of Abbot Agronguerre. His reputation for fairness and gentility is without reproach. True, he is not a forceful man, not a firebrand, as was the younger Markwart, but perhaps the Church is in more need of stability now, of healing."