The Heresy Within (55 page)

Finally, when the council of Inquisitors asked him if he had any proof, he told them what little he knew of Inquisitor Selice Heron's contract with the demons of the void. The council members looked less than pleased to hear that the contract was hidden away where no one could ever get to it.

By the end of his telling Thanquil had lost count of how many lies he'd told, most hadn't been blatant untruths but more lies of omission told to protect the others involved but all were enough to see him killed should the council have spotted them. He waited on fraying nerves while the Inquisitors chewed over his story in their heads, some conversing with their fellows. His burnt arm hurt and itched at the same time but Thanquil fought the urge to scratch at it.

The cold scrutiny seemed to stretch on forever and after a while it was too much for Thanquil to bear. “Could you tell me, what happened to Kosh and Kessick? What happened to those I sent after them?” he asked the Inquisitors and was ignored save for a scathing glare from the Grand Inquisitor himself.

More silence followed complete with more itching and a slight shaking of his legs that convinced Thanquil he was far from recovered.

“It is... convenient that this contract you speak of is unavailable for scrutiny,” Inquisitor Jeyne said in a voice like silk dipped in honey.

“I'd call it inconvenient myself,” Thanquil responded.

“But there is no proof, one way or the other.”

“Seeing as how you're likely to err on the side of judging me a heretic... Inconvenient. Ask me if I'm telling the truth. Use your compulsion, Inquisitor.”

The Grand Inquisitor leaned forward, piercing Thanquil with eyes as blue as the sea and twice as deep. “I think we all know there are ways around the compulsion, Arbiter Darkheart.”

Thanquil found it hard to meet the Grand Inquisitor's gaze but he held it all the same. “I brought down and survived the Judgement of the Righteous...”

“You stole a rune from the God-Emperor's personal collection,” Inquisitor Khanos said in a dangerous tone, “and by your own account Inquisitor Heron also survived the Judgement. Not conclusive proof either way.”

Thanquil opened his mouth to say more but realised he was out of ideas. He had no way to prove his innocence and they had no way to prove his guilt. On those grounds they would judge him and they would judge him harshly.

“You say this contract is held by the demons in the void,” Arbiter Vance said from behind the twelfth chair.

“Quiet, Arbiter Vance. You are here to observe only,” Inquisitor Vert's voice rang with the accent of the Five Kingdoms.

“Let the Arbiter finish, Inquisitor Vert.” This from Inquisitor Downe.

All eyes turned to the Grand Inquisitor. The man gave his son only the barest of nods and so Arbiter Vance continued.

“According to you Inquisitor Heron ordered the demons not to release the contract to anyone save herself and so the creatures cannot obey us without disobeying her. But there may be one who can overturn that order. The demons may be sworn to obey the Inquisition but more than us they are sworn to obey Volmar.” A murmur of voices echoed through the chambers but Arbiter Vance spoke over them all. “The God-Emperor can command the demons to release the contract. Assuming there is one, that is.”

It was so perfect Thanquil almost laughed. The Inquisition had been the ones to find Emperor Francis, had been the ones to decree that he was Volmar reborn. If they chose not to go through with Arbiter Vance's suggestion here they may as well admit that the Emperor was not who they claimed him to be. Then, if the demons did obey the God-Emperor's order it was proof he was Volmar, if they refused, it was proof he was not. Thanquil had asked the Emperor whether he was Volmar reborn and the man had avoided the question but now... now Thanquil would find out for certain just before he died.

Grand Inquisitor Vance looked over to the two Arbiters standing guard by the entrance and spoke, his voice echoing around the room. “Bring the Emperor here at once.”

It said something about Grand Inquisitor Vance's authority that he could order the immediate presence of the Emperor of Sarth and the man would obey. Thanquil found himself standing under the scrutiny of the Inquisitors for just less than an hour before Emperor Francis strode through the doors in a white silken suit, looking like a titan as he towered over everyone else around him. The man stood at close to eight feet tall and was as wide as a bear yet as handsome and resplendent as the sun. Thanquil felt short and drab and ugly in comparison as the Emperor finished his entrance just a few strides away. Two servants attended the Emperor, one Thanquil recognised though the thin dusting of hair on his top lip had since bloomed into a small blonde ferret.

“Inquisitors,” the God-Emperor said with a slight bow of his head, “Arbiter Vance. How may I be of service in this judgement?” The man seemed to radiate power, Thanquil felt stronger just by being close to him.

It was the Grand Inquisitor who answered. “Arbiter Darkheart stands accused of heresy and of the murder of an Inquisitor. He claims there is proof that Inquisitor Heron was the heretic, that he was protecting the Inquisition. That proof, however, is secreted away in the void, hidden by the demons that Volmar bound to our service. If this is true, only you can order the release of the contract, Emperor Francis.”

The God-Emperor nodded along to the Grand Inquisitor's words and then smiled. “That may not be necessary, Inquisitors.”

Thanquil felt his heart lurch to a stop, he had lied to protect the Emperor. Even should the man reveal that Thanquil had been acting on his orders it would still condemn him.

The God-Emperor waved forwards his servant with the bushy top lip who laid the bundle he was carrying on the cold stone floor. Then the Emperor. “I present to you all the sword of Inquisitor Heron. I had it taken from her estate on the night of her... death. Inquisitor Vance, I believe you may be the only one who can safely inspect the sword.”

The Grand Inquisitor's eyes narrowed to two small slits in his face but he stood and descended from the dais. He looked down at the bundle of cloth on the floor and then up towards the Emperor.

“I assure you, Inquisitor Vance. You alone can handle the sword unharmed.”

The Grand Inquisitor knelt and unwrapped the cloth to reveal a sword. It was Inquisitor Heron's for sure. Some of Thanquil's wounds began to ache at the mere sight of the serrated monstrosity.

Slowly Grand Inquisitor Vance reached out a hand and touched the hilt of the sword. His eyes went wide and his jaw clenched shut. Then he took his hand away and wrapped the blade back in the cloth.

“It is Myorzo, the demon blade,” he said standing. The council chambers erupted into formless noise, each Inquisitor trying to be heard over the others, each demanding answers from the Grand Inquisitor, from the God-Emperor.

The story of the demon blade was well known; it dated from before the time of the Inquisition, from the time when Volmar had first walked in the world. As the tale went Volmar had a brother, Arn. Arn was the first to seek to bind the demons of the void. He summoned a shade to attempt to study it, to learn its weaknesses but the creature he summoned was too powerful to contain. So the younger brother went to the older and Volmar, being the benevolent hero he was in all the stories of old, agreed to help.

Volmar forged a blade of the blackest metal and enchanted it with old powerful charms that were since lost to the world. The God and the demon from the void fought for one hundred days and one hundred nights before Volmar pierced the creature's heart with the blade. The demon's essence was sucked into the blade and its body faded back into the void. Volmar named the sword Myorzo, the demon blade and hid it somewhere it was said it could never be found.

Some historians claimed that Volmar never had a brother, that it was the God himself who made the mistake of summoning a creature too powerful to control. To Thanquil's knowledge such historians were usually tried for heresy soon after. Either way it looked like Volmar's hiding place for the demon blade had not been as secure as he might have wished.

The Grand Inquisitor looked a grim picture standing tall and silent in the centre of a maelstrom of noise. Some Inquisitors shouted, others looked almost panicked. The Grand Inquisitor himself was locked in a staring contest with the God-Emperor of Sarth. Only one man in the world could win such a contest against a living God and the Grand Inquisitor proved it was himself. Emperor Francis was the first to look away.

“Enough!” Grand Inquisitor Vance didn't shout to be heard over the cacophony, he didn't need to. As if the other Inquisitors had sensed his demanding quiet they all fell silent.

“Guards. Take Arbiter Darkheart back to his cell. Have his wounds looked at, it appears he is bleeding.”

Thanquil looked down at his hand; the bandage was beginning to look more red than white. The guards moved forward with cuffs and chains in hand.

“He won't be needing those anymore.” This came from the God-Emperor. The guards looked to the Grand Inquisitor and the orders were confirmed with only the barest of nods.

The silence held while Thanquil was escorted from the chambers. Once on the outside he strained his ears to hear what was said but the door boomed shut and blocked out all other noise. The guards led him back to his cell in silence.

Jezzet woke still huddled under the cloak that was little more than a large sheet of wool, still aching from sleeping sat upright in the cold, still surrounded by cold stone and cold iron bars. The gaols in Sarth were little better than those in Chade, they supplied a bed for the prisoners but Jez didn't trust it.

Too easy to get comfortable on a bed, less likely to wake when they come for me.

In the two weeks she had been a prisoner here others had come and gone. Some were little more than drunkards sleeping off a belly full and a bar fight, others were true criminals on their way to the gallows, all of them were men and all of them leered at her with hungry eyes. One had even tried to reach between the bars and steal her cloak to get a better look; she had broken his wrist with a practised twist.

Of course after that I had to put up with his crying and spitting insults for two days.

The guards brought her food twice a day, it wasn't up to much; sloppy, cold porridge in the mornings and hard, stale bread in the evenings with a jug of water a day. Poor food was better than no food though, they could just have let her starve to death. She'd had no visitors, no word of the outside world, no word of Thanquil or of Thorn. They had taken her sword from her too and with no clothing to speak of she had nowhere to hide a knife.

A Blademaster without a blade... can still break a man's wrist.

At first she'd thought about trying to escape. If she could pick the lock she could make a break for it. But security in Sarth was not near as lax as in Chade, there were guards outside the gaol cells at all times. Even if she did make it out, without clothing she would draw attention to herself and without a sword she couldn't fight her way free. Instead of thinking of escape she filled her days with imagining why she was still languishing in a cell, why they hadn't executed her yet.

It must be because you killed an Arbiter, Jez. The guards are waiting for the Inquisition to deal with you... just the bloody witch hunters seem to be taking their sweet time about it.

Almost she wished she had fought her way free back when she had killed Kosh. Ten men they had been, armed with spears. She could have taken them. She had known it then. They had known it then. Jezzet had been on the verge of attacking when what she thought was better judgement had won out. She surrendered her sword and allowed them to take her prisoner. That was when she had gained her cloak; the guards decided it was better than marching a naked woman through the streets of Sarth. Still, they hadn't bothered to bring her any real clothing so naked she remained.

Truth was Jezzet Vel'urn was starting to wish she hadn't come to Sarth at all. In the wilds she was free from the pressure of Constance hunting her and yet she chose to follow the Arbiter to Sarth on his foolish crusade to save the Inquisition.

She heard the key in the door and the guard Captain's voice, a fair man that one but not a nice man. Jezzet had no wish to see the new prisoner so she huddled deeper into her corner, pulled the cloak around her and closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. Her right hand itched towards where her sword should be.

A Blademaster without a blade...
Truth was the lack of sword made her feel far more naked than the lack of clothing.

“In there,” said the guard Captain in his thick, brusque voice.

“You can go. I'll fetch you when I'm done.” Jezzet knew that voice.

She heard the Captain grumble and move away. Then she opened her eyes to find Arbiter Thanquil Darkheart leaning on the bars to her cell with a faint smile on his face.

“This seems a familiar sight,” the Arbiter teased.

Jezzet found herself grinning. “Does it?” She stood up and let her cloak fall to the floor then approached the bars.

“You look...” Thanquil started to say.

“Step inside. You can do more than just look.”

Thanquil gripped hold of the bars with his left hand but his smile faded. “Would that I could.” Jezzet noticed his right arm was bandaged and hung in a sling. His coat hung loose across his shoulders. A new coat, she noticed, it didn't have all the stains and tears of his old coat.

“Are you alright?” she asked him.

“Me... oh... the arm. I'm fine. Just the usual really, set myself on fire, blew myself up.” Jez couldn't tell if he was joking or not. “What about... you're naked.”

“Just noticed that did you?”

“Why...”

Because I fucked your friend the heretic before killing him.

Jezzet shrugged. If Thanquil was here he had heard the conditions of her capture from the guards, she would let him draw his own conclusions.