Medalon (14 page)

When R’shiel and the Defenders reached the Great Hall, Tarja and Garet continued up the steps to the massive bronze-sheathed doors. The two Defenders on guard saluted the officers sharply and stood back to let them enter. They were attending the Gathering as the Lord Defender’s aides and had a valid reason to gain admittance. R’shiel had no such excuse. She glanced at Davydd Tailorson questioningly.

“Now what?” she whispered, afraid her voice would carry in the deserted street. Everyone was still at the amphitheatre. A soft rain had begun to fall and the cobblestone street was slick and glistening in the moonlight.

“There’s no way they’ll let you in, R’shiel.”

She looked at him, her eyes glinting. “Oh, yes there is.”

R’shiel glanced up and down the deserted street then ran across to the alley between the Great Hall and the slightly less impressive Administration Hall next door, from where Francil ruled the Citadel. Davydd followed her down the alley to a shoulder-high brick wall that blocked the end of the lane.
She grabbed the top of the wall and pulled herself up, turning to help Davydd. Balanced on the top of the narrow wall, Davydd looked up.

“You’ve got to be joking!”

“I hope you’ve a head for heights,” she said.

She pointed to the window ledge above them, which was out of reach by a few hand spans. With a shake of his head at his own folly, he cupped his hands, and gave her a boost up to the ledge. As soon as she was safely up, she turned carefully, and lying flat on her stomach on the cold, wet ledge, she reached down to him. Davydd grabbed her outstretched arm and used it to anchor himself as he climbed up. Once he was beside her on the narrow ledge he helped her stand and they carefully edged their way along the building towards the rear. The tall, stained glass windows shed dull light from the torchlit interior, but it was impossible to see through them. Muted voices drifted up occasionally, as if the Gathering was voting on something. Once, she heard a male voice, accented and clipped, that she was certain must be Lord Pieter, although she couldn’t make out the words. With a shudder, she forced her concentration back to what she was doing. She might not be afraid of heights, but that wouldn’t make falling from the slick ledge to the pavement below any less fatal.

They finally reached a small protruding balcony as the rain began to fall a little harder. Distant lightning flickered to the north, illuminating their way sporadically with flashes of whiteness. Davydd hauled himself up over the balustrade and reached down to help R’shiel up. As soon as she had clambered up
beside him, shivering in her damp dress, he turned to the lock on the diamond-paned doors that led onto the balcony. The lock snicked open in a surprisingly short time. Hugging herself against the chill, R’shiel looked at the young man curiously.

“How did you do that?”

The lieutenant placed a finger on his lips, warning her to silence, and eased open the door. They slipped inside and he pulled the door shut behind them, wincing as the wet hinges squealed in protest. Fortunately, a loud shout suddenly rose from the gathered Sisters below, masking the sound. Dropping into a crouch Davydd moved quickly and silently along the gallery. R’shiel picked up her dripping skirts and followed him, bent double to keep her head below the marble balustrade that circled the upper level of the Great Hall. About half-way down the gallery, Davydd stopped and motioned her forward. He dropped onto his belly, wiggling forward until he could see the floor below. R’shiel silently followed suit.

He had chosen an excellent vantage point. From here she could see the raised marble steps where the Quorum stood in their stark white dresses amidst a sea of blue skirts and capes. The only other splash of colour was the bright red jackets of the Lord Defender and his two aides, Tarja and Garet, who stood silently behind their commander, and the huge symbol of the Sisterhood on the wall behind the podium. The Great Hall was filled with Blue Sisters who had travelled from all over Medalon for the Gathering.

Wondering how much she had missed, R’shiel
looked down curiously at the podium. Mahina stood stiffly in the centre, and even from this distance, she appeared angry. Standing in front of her, below the steps, in a small clearing in front of the podium, Lord Pieter and a slender, tonsured man confronted the First Sister. R’shiel looked at the priest who wanted to take her back to Karien in response to a vision. He must be insane, she reasoned. She could not see his face, but he was dressed in a magnificent cape. A five-pointed star, intersected by a lightning bolt, was embroidered in gold thread across the back. In his right hand he held a tall staff, topped by the same gilded symbol and encrusted with precious stones. It threw back the torchlight into the faces of the gathered women like chips of coloured light.

“Your concerns are noted, my Lord,” Mahina was saying to the Envoy in a voice that dripped icicles. “But Karien has no leave to dictate internal policy in Medalon. I will deal with the heathens as I see fit.”

“Ah now, that is the problem, First Sister,” Lord Pieter remarked in an equally cold tone. “Your idea of dealing with the heathens is not to deal with them at all. There are more heathens in Medalon now than there were when the Harshini despoiled this land with their vile customs!”

A general murmur of anxiety rippled through the gathered Sisters. Lord Pieter’s statement was a gross exaggeration, everyone knew that, but that he would accuse Medalon of breaking the centuries-old treaty so publicly, was cause for concern.

“You waste the Gathering’s time with your wild accusations, my Lord. Return to your King and pass on my best wishes for his continued health and
wellbeing. You might also like to tell him to mind his own business.”

R’shiel was surprised at Mahina’s undiplomatic rejoinder. She glanced at Joyhinia for a moment and saw the look of satisfaction that flickered across her face. Mahina was playing right into her hands. Even Davydd, lying silently beside her, hissed softly at the First Sister’s tactlessness. The sharp smell of wet wool filled her nostrils from her own wet clothes and the lieutenant’s damp jacket.

Lord Pieter sputtered in protest. Joyhinia smoothly stepped forward and held up her hand to quiet the startled mutterings that swept through the crowd.

“My Lord, the First Sister is right to be concerned that you accuse us of breaking the terms of the treaty so freely. Substantiate your claims, or leave her to rule Medalon as she sees fit.”

Had she not known how cleverly Joyhinia had orchestrated this scene, R’shiel would have been impressed by her mother’s—rather, she reminded herself grimly—her
foster
mother’s support of the First Sister. R’shiel could tell that many of the Blue Sisters were impressed. Joyhinia presented a façade of loyalty to the First Sister that was as touching as it was false.

“Elfron!” Expecting this cue, the priest took a step forward.

“There have been one hundred and seventeen heathen cults uncovered in Medalon in the past two years,” the priest announced in a voice that was high pitched and rather grating on the ears. Were the Overlord’s priests eunuchs, perhaps? She had never
heard that they were, but his voice lacked the masculine depth of the men R’shiel knew. Perhaps that accounted for his absurd vision. “Until the ascension of Sister Mahina, these cults were all dealt with in a similar manner. That is, confiscation of property and a prison sentence for the miscreants. Since Sister Mahina, however, there have been only three cases of confiscation and none of prison sentences.”

“Perhaps it simply means that the heathens are under control,” Joyhinia replied. R’shiel caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and saw Garet whispering to Tarja. He was no doubt concerned where the Kariens had gained their intelligence.

“Far from it, my Lady,” the priest replied. “From your southern border to the north, we have identified a growing number of cults and supplied that information to the First Sister. Yet many of these cults continue to flourish unmolested.”

Joyhinia glanced at Jenga. She had all but taken over the meeting. “Is this true, Lord Defender? Has the First Sister ordered you not to act on the information supplied by our allies?”

“The matters are under investigation, my Lady,” Jenga replied, not happy to be drawn into the discussion. “Prudence should not be confused with inaction. The Defenders will take every action allowed by the law, when the information has been verified.”

“There, you see, my Lord? You have it from the Lord Defender himself. Everything is under control.”

“I am afraid that is not good enough, my Lady,” Pieter warned with a shake of his head. “My King desires more than vague assurances. We were given
those the last time we were here and nothing has come of them. King Jasnoff requires a firm commitment to commence an immediate Purge against all heathens, known or suspected, in Medalon. If not, a force of Church Knights will be dispatched immediately, and we will deal with the problem ourselves.”

The Envoy’s statement brought a howl of protest from the gathered Sisters. Mahina stepped forward and held up both hands. The Sisters took noticeably longer to fall silent than when Joyhinia had used the same gesture. R’shiel watched the First Sister with a touch of pity. She was short and dumpy and lacked Joyhinia’s cold elegance. There was nothing regal in her bearing. She did not inspire confidence standing on the podium in the shadow of Joyhinia and Harith, both of whom stood a head taller than her. Mahina didn’t look like a First Sister should.

“Your advice will be taken under consideration, my Lord,” Mahina said, almost shouting to be heard over the slowly subsiding din. “I would ask that you leave us now to consider our formal reply to your King.”

Pieter bowed and motioned the priest back. “I will await your response, your Grace.” The two men turned as the crowd parted before them, to allow them to leave. The Kariens walked the long length of the mosaic tiled Hall, ignoring the Sisters who watched them depart. As the doors boomed shut behind them the crowd once again broke into an uproar.

Mahina let the noise wash over her for a while, considering her next words carefully, before she held
up her hands for silence. Slowly the Sisters quieted. Their mood was hard to fathom, but the idea of Church Knights on Medalon soil was unthinkable. Medalon had fought long and hard to rid itself of all religious ties. To the majority of the Sisters, even the small heathen cults were preferable. At least they, as a rule, were not armed.

“I have long expected such duplicity from the Kariens,” Mahina announced to the Gathering. R’shiel watched Joyhinia as the First Sister spoke. “Had I instigated a Purge when I became First Sister, the Envoy would have used the need for one as a weapon against us. I will not bow to blackmail.”

A cheer greeted Mahina’s statement, albeit a muted one. Rhetoric was a fine thing, but it did not remove the threat of an armed incursion.

“Fine sentiments, First Sister,” Harith scoffed. “But I fear the Envoy is not bluffing. What are you going to do? Stand at the border and ask the Church Knights, very nicely, not to move any further?”

“I will not suffer Karien knights on Medalon soil. We will meet their force with equal force,” Mahina replied confidently. “The Defenders will turn them back.”

“Warmonger!” The cry came from the back of the hall, no doubt a Sister in Joyhinia’s camp, primed before the meeting for such an opportunity. Several other Sisters took up the cry and within moments the hall was filled with the chanting. “Warmonger! Warmonger!”

Joyhinia stepped forward and silenced the crowd.
You have to admire her ability to manipulate people
, R’shiel thought, rather begrudgingly.

“Sisters! Shame on you! I am appalled by this disrespect. If the First Sister says we can defeat a force of Karien knights, then we must believe her! Please, First Sister, explain your position. Have you thought of how we might face such a threat?” Joyhinia smiled so pleasantly, so supportively at Mahina, that the older woman had no idea what was coming next.

“I have, for some months, been examining our options in case such a situation ever arose,” Mahina explained. R’shiel glanced at the Defenders and saw Garet Warner shaking his head, as if trying to warn Mahina of the trap she was walking into. “I have detailed plans of how we might defend our northern border and the disposal of our forces. We can face the Karien threat confidently.”

“Then you have planned for this war, all along?” Joyhinia asked.

Mahina obviously assumed her colleagues would applaud her forethought. “I have, Sister. I have given the matter a great deal of thought.”

“You deliberately planned a war with the Kariens?” Harith asked, right on cue. “You have purposely set us on a course that is likely to destroy us? You
planned
a war with our allies?”

Before Mahina could deny Harith’s interpretation of her actions, the crowd once again took up the cry of “Warmonger!” This time many more Sisters joined in and Joyhinia made no move to stop them. As the chant went on and on it began to dawn on Mahina how expertly she had been duped. Her expression changed to one of anger as she looked first at Harith and then Joyhinia. Francil and Jacomina stood behind her, but they were yet to play their part. The
First Sister tried to defend her position, but the chanting drowned out her voice.

Finally, it was Harith who managed to silence the angry Sisters. She stood at the front of the podium and addressed them loudly. “I am sworn to protect and govern Medalon. To serve the Sisters of the Blade. But I cannot serve under a woman who would so easily send us to war, with no thought to the deprivation such an act would cause. I cannot serve under a woman who shows so little thought to the safety of our people. Karien is a hundred times larger than Medalon. Her soldiers outnumber our Defenders ten to one. I cannot be a party to this!”

The crowd fell expectantly silent at Harith’s impassioned speech. They had not expected this.

Mahina looked at the Mistress of the Sisterhood in surprise. “Are you resigning, Harith?”

Harith glanced at Mahina briefly, then turned back to the crowd. “I am not offering my resignation. I am proposing that Sister Mahina Cortanen be removed. I propose that Sister Joyhinia Tenragan, who has already proved, this evening, that she is a match for the Kariens, be appointed the Interim First Sister, until a formal election can be arranged. I propose that we immediately instigate a Purge to rid Medalon of the heathen cults that flourish under Mahina’s rule. Do I have a seconder?”