Dave Duncan - When the Saints

“So we can move on to the matter of Vilhelmas’s murder.”

“Not yet. Prior to his death, Vilhelmas transported himself and others out of a crowded hall in Castle Gallant. In as much as he was an Agios, he offended by using talent within Saints’ territory, and what he did was a flagrant violation of the first commandment.”

The janissary yawned, showing a maw full of yellow teeth. “Maybe so. Vilhelmas has gone to the Affirmer of Truth, and is beyond human judgment. So has the man who shot him, the cleric Magnus. But Marek’s accessory is here present. He was equally guilty, and that public assassination was certainly both trespass and a violation of the first commandment.”

Madlenka squeezed Wulf’s hand encouragingly, but did not look at him. height="0e

“We can include it on the paper without accepting your interpretation of it.”

“More important than that,” Mudar Sokullu Pasha said, as if everything so far had been trivial and they were at last getting to the meat of the matter, “the next day that same Wulfgang Magnus destroyed half the Pomeranian army, about sixteen thousand men. This may be the worst sorcerous bloodshed since the days of Tamerlane. That, too, was both trespass and violation of the first commandment!”

Wulf had been thinking of the Inquisition as his greatest danger. He might have been misled by his ignorance.

Umbral said, “We do not yet concede either of those acts to be crimes. Two nights ago, a member of your order, namely Alojz Zauber, transported Havel Vranov and some men inside the defenses of Castle Gallant so that they could overpower the garrison and open the gates. Count Magnus was among the dead. That is a much worse violation of the commandment, for it has no workaday explanation, and it is blatant trespass.”

Baring his teeth in a menacing smile, the janissary glanced around the room. “‘No workaday explanation’? Have you never heard of simple treachery, woman? Can you produce witnesses who saw who opened the gates? What pig filth! Does that complete the charge sheet? Have you more to add?”

Impossible jumps at Chestnut Hill did not count, Wulf concluded, nor instantaneous trips between Jorgary and Rome. All that mattered in this court were secrecy and territorial boundaries, with killing other Speakers a distant third. And yet the Saints and Agioi gathered here might be the true rulers of Europe, for who could gainsay their decisions?

To his astonishment, Madlenka released his hand and took a step forward. “My lady… and Pasha… All his life, Havel Vranov has been the Wends’ bitterest enemy. This year he has been supporting them, a traitor to his king. I charge the Agioi with… I believe the word is ‘tweaking’?… tampering with his mind.”

Nothing of Lady Umbral’s expression could be read, but her tone of voice registered surprise. “A very cogent suggestion! We add it to our complaints. But it must have been the first trespass, and traditionally we now judge the charges in reverse order-the reason being that recent events are more easily examined. Also, once an offender is sentenced to death, his earlier misdeeds no longer matter. Two nights ago, Pasha, an Agioi Speaker, caused a Jorgarian fortress to fall to a traitor, Havel Vranov. That is trespass!”

Astonishingly, the ferocious-seeming janissary laughed. “You think so? Brancher Alojz Zauber, go stand there!”

He pointed to the center of the dais. The squire nervously stepped over the sleeping Leonas and went where he was bid, stooping as if afraid of losing control of his bladder. He seemed unsure of which direction he was supposed to face. “P-P-Pasha?”

“Normally, grunge, since ydder. He ou are not yet fledged, your handler would have to answer for your actions. But since he was murdered, you have taken to using power on your own authority, so you must suffer the consequences.” He showed his yellow teeth again. “If any. Understand?”

“Oh yes, Pasha.”

“Where were you born, you louse-infested, unclean, eater of pigs?”

As if seized by a sudden revelation, Alojz swung around to face Lady Umbral, and began to gabble. “In Jorgary, my lady, in Pelrelm. I was a shepherd like my father, and baptized a Catholic, but four years ago, about the time I was due to have my first communion, Father Vilhelmas came to see me. I’d never heard of him, but he explained that my mother was an illegitimate child of the count’s late brother, so we were both related to the count. He showed me what a Speaker could do and promised me that Speakers never want for anything: riches, comfort, respect. Herders don’t live long, you know. Rustlers don’t want witnesses, so they cut our throats; even if they just hamstring us to delay pursuit, we may freeze to death or die of wound fever. But Father Vilhelmas promised me long life and health, warm beds, no hunger. He said I would have to confess before my first communion, and if I told a Catholic priest about the Voices he would call me a Satanist. The Catholics would burn me at the stake or lock me up in a-”

Mudar Sokullu broke into the tirade. “Cease, in the name of the Eternal! The infidel priest bribed you and probably tweaked you. You were born in Jorgary, so you’re a Jorgarian. And you are still unfledged. So no trespass!” he told Umbral.

“But who told him to help Vranov take the castle?”

“His own idea entirely. Four days ago he brought the priest’s body to us at Alba Iulia, as he should. He was told to return to Cardice and wait until we assigned him a new handler.” The janissary made a gesture of dismissal, as if throwing away a walnut kernel. “The boy is weak-minded. Whatever he did was his own idea and the voivode did not order it. The wretch is solely to blame. You may have him! Hang him, burn him, stone him, whatever you want.”

“You told me to make myself useful!” Alojz shouted, then cowered even lower, clearly terrified of what he might have provoked.

“And how else did you make yourself useful?” Lady Umbral inquired gently. “By ancient custom, we keep no secrets at these conferences.”

Staring at the floor, the squire muttered, “I tweaked the bishops at the parley to help cover up Father Vilhelmas’s blunder at the banquet. That’s a permitted exception to the second commandment! I helped the count’s attack on the castle because he told… er, asked… me to. I was trying to help my handler’s client!” He blinked like a child about to weep and blurted: “I’m only three months short of being fledged. I hoped if I did a good job they would jess me and let me take over the contract!”

Umbral’s face remained unreadable, but her chuckle was eloquent. “We are aware that the Agioi, unlike the Saints, let their falcons fly without the restraint of cadgers, answering only to the voivode. So Father Vilhelmas, a member of the Agioi, had a contract with Havel Vranov, a count in the peerage of Jorgary? This is not trespass?”

Mudar Sokullu gave Lady Umbral a glare so toxic that it should have melted her into a puddle of terror, although it might have been directed at Alojz. “There was no contract between Vranov and Father Vilhelmas.”

“So on whose behalf was Vilhelmas acting?”

There was a long pause before the janissary answered. “Duke Wartislaw’s.”

Until then the spectators had been eerily quiet, but at that news Wulf detected a sort of wordless murmur, a shuffle of feet. The wind moaned and the lamps continued their crazy dance.

“Wartislaw,” the janissary continued, “flew three falcons of his own. We were not aware until a few days ago that he had also hired Vilhelmas and was using him to meddle in Jorgarian affairs. Vilhelmas should have informed us and obtained our permission. But this sniveling trash is a Jorgarian, and no concern of ours. Take him and clip his talons, or kill him and let us proceed to discussing the massacre of the Pomeranian army.”