Winterfinding (24 page)

Sinclar flung Stilbon back. He spat his rage
at him, “No one hedges! This is absolute! I will take the holy see
for my own.” He turned his back on the priests and walked back up
to the altar.

“
You are not in control.”
Pallas said flatly.

“
I AM IN CONTROL!” He
brought down both fists on the altar and a great crack resonated
through the small chapel.

“
You are not. You are in a
rage, and you are smashing your most effective tools in a tantrum.”
Pallas stood with shocking calmness, his hands clasp behind his
back.

“
Light damn you, Pallas.
You may be the only one of you who has done their job properly but
you have yet to earn the right to speak to me like
that.”

“
I have earned every
right, vicegerent. Though your criticisms of my colleagues is
valid.” Pallas stared at Stilbon who was glowering at him like a
jealous child. “These are effects, while not directly anticipated,
we have made allowances for. The Bandrans presence alongside the
Spires army will sway the necessary clergy. Once we are in the
Conclave, the Bandrans will keep the Spires from taking any further
action. The presence of the army combined with news of this
Lappalan fleet will only accelerate your election.”

Sinclar was calming down, yet he still stood
with his back to them, arms splayed on the cracked altar, and
shoulders hunched. His breath was fast like an animal’s as he
growled, “And the girl?”

Pallas continued, “She is of no consequence.
She’s dead, officially, thanks to Canon Stilbon’s work with the
Bandrans.”

“
I don’t need your scraps
of praise.” Stilbon muttered.

“
Obviously, you do. Stand
up.” Pallas turned his head to address the Canon, and then back to
Sinclar. “Friar Ebon may have made a poor decision in selecting the
mercenary to handle the job, but...”

“
He was a name on a list
you gave me.” Ebon said sniveling.

“
Those were suggestions.
If you had done your task properly, you would have vetted the names
and chosen the best candidate. Instead, you picked the first name
that you knew it would be easy for you contact.” Pallas turned ever
so slightly raising a finger to reprimand Ebon. “This is your
mortal flaw Ebon, you are gluttonous and lazy. It will, unless you
rectify it, be the means of your death.”

Sinclar straighten rubbing the front of his
vestments flat. His voice returned to a normal cadence, “’But’
what, Canon Pallas?”

“
It further serves to
weaken the patriarch in the eyes of the clergy. And it has brought
us the Prime Alder of Rikonen.”

Vander was helping Ebon up and asking, “What
good does it do to have him here? Everyone is shunning him.”

“
His presence is a boon.
With this Lappalan fleet looming, we may need the Rikonese. And
this man, Wynne Landis, is one of the finest minds of any
nation.”

“
Once I am patriarch, I
will sanction the Spires.” Sinclar said turning around to face the
men. “They will move on Essia and conquer it. Silvincia will
stretch from Elixem in the east to Paraonen in the west. My
Cathedral will be its heart and mind.”

“
Yes, certainly so,
vicegerent, but…” Pallas attempted to redirect the
conversation.

“
We will deal with
Lappalan once that is done.” Sinclar asserted. “And we will not
need the Rikonese, but we will certainly use him.” The vicegerent
closed his eyes and brought his hands with their fingers entwined
up to his lips.

“
I have been unfair to you
all today. I apologize. You have each done the best you were able
at the tasks assigned to you. I shouldn’t expect more. The Conclave
will be struck soon. I will need more out of each of you. I will
need you to work together, to put your petty grievances and
ambitions aside. Friar Ebon, you will be oversee the gyrovagi and
be given free rein over the common folk and villeins. The paladins
and justiciars will require new leadership and you, Canon Stilbon,
will be that leader. The victories of our holy army will be your
victories and you will be my right hand.”

As Sinclar came down from the altar, light
poured in through the tiny chapel’s window. It seemed to envelop
him as well as follow him as he slowly moved towards them. Vander
and Ebon seemed to be awestruck while Stilbon again couldn’t stop a
wicked grin from twisting from his lips. Pallas betrayed no emotion
but for a single subtle twitch under his right eye. Sinclar’s
expression seemed to encourage the four to laugh at the ironic good
fortune.

“
The Light shines on me,
brothers.” He placed a hand on Vander’s shoulder. “Vander, you will
have dominion over the coin of the realm. You will decide the
alcavala.” He turned to stare hard at Pallas, “And you, theosopher,
you will write the words that will shape the faith, shape thought
for ages to come.”

“
You honor us,
vicegerent.” Pallas said bowing as he caught the eye of the others
nodding them to depart. The three others gave their thanks and left
the chapel. Pallas lingered watching the rest leave. He came to
stand next to Sinclar.

“
I am sorry for that
outburst.” He sounded genuinely contrite.

“
They need the lash more
often than not.” Pallas replied. “But you were a tad excessive. We
have the votes for you. But I think you should consider a second
ballot.”

Sinclar raised an eyebrow, “Oh? Why is
that?”

“
The Spires need to be
reined in, used but reined in.”

“
And you
suggest?”

“
Let Landis
stand.”

Sinclar spun rather sharply with a confused
looked on his face, “A Rikonen has never been patriarch.”

“
Nor will one be.” He sat
down on one of the nearby pews and seems to relax. “You and he will
be named on the first ballot, a fact that will ripple through all
quarters. It will inflame the Spires, it will embolden the Essians,
it will dumbfound the Lappalans, and it will show our people that
you are not some duplicitous bounder.” He paused and stared hard at
Sinclar, “You earned the trust of your fellow clergy.”

Sinclar looked pleased and sat next to
Pallas. “You are a clever man, Pallas. That is an astute maneuver.
Are you sure you don’t want to be patriarch?”

He shook his head, “I am not a man of
action. I cannot lead. You are the patriarch. You jest, but the
Light shines on you.” The two sat in silence for a good few
minutes.

“
My daughter?” Sinclar
finally asked.

“
I am bringing her little
coterie together tomorrow.”

“
My daughter.” He
whispered.

“
She is your claim to the
Spires.”

“
My daughter.” He said
more assertively.

“
The girl you stole from a
man you murdered.”

Sinclar clenched his jaw. “My daughter.”

Pallas stood up. He bowed to Sinclar. “You
know what must be done. You know what will happen next.”

“
Yes.” Sinclar said rather
trance-like.

Pallas leaned down and locked eyes with the
vicegerent. “You know what you must do. Do it. Show them the
Light.”

He had come in the night. He could hear the
first of the processions already underway their songs a mixture of
call and response and chanting. Wynne found it less annoying than
the random cattle bells that were rung every few minutes. It was
just enough to keep him from dozing off and to keep him from being
able to focus. He hadn’t slept much since his encounter with
Pallas. Now a mixture of tiredness and anxiety needled at him. He
hadn’t felt this way in ages, not since he first arrived at the
lighthouse in Rikonen.

Alone in the small shop, he paced. Light
poured in from the street bathing the dilapidated furnishings in
amber. Wynne lost himself in watching particles in the air travel
through the beams to settle on the seemingly permanent grey skin of
dust that coated everything. He found himself wondering what kind
of shop this had been. Had it been a family business? Scents
lingered in the air competing for attention. As he moved around the
room, he caught whiffs of sandalwood, linseed, rosewater, and
others. Maybe a soap shop or a catchall spicer’s. He shook his
head, annoyed, because it didn’t matter.

There came creaking and sound of a gate
slamming shut. Wynne immediately strode out of the room, through
the small backroom, and out into the rear garden (a novelty in this
city). Standing quite still with the same innocuous smile on his
face as when they had first met was Pallas.

“
And?” Wynne
demanded.

The yard was devoid of clutter. A thick
hedge followed the fence around and in the far corners of the
square garden were several wide trunked trees whose branches nearly
created a canopy. The branches of the maples wound together like
crooked arms. They were still in the process of shedding their
leaves but most were littering the ground. Wynne could feel the
cold of the ground through his boot soles. He felt the squish of
the leaves wet from the fast melt of the light snows that had
peppered the city the pass few days.

“
They are on their way.”
Pallas assured him. “More importantly, are you ready?”

“
It’ll good to see them
all again.”

“
That is not what I
meant.”

“
You clearly have some
stratagem at work here. I can’t see what it is because I don’t have
your information, but if do gather it…”

“
I don’t doubt you would
see just what I am attempting.” Pallas agreed. “Wynne, you made
your city. I understand that its survival is nearly as precious to
you as your own or your daughter’s.”

“
That is a bit
melodramatic.”

“
We trade in dramas.”
Pallas shrugged.

“
Well, you will certainly
manufacture one if I do what you ask.”

“
A Conclave is tumultuous
time. All sorts of things happen—bargains become threats, threats
bargains, fears and bias are revealed, courage is show, those who
think themselves clever are exposed as imbeciles…”

“
And the truly clever
continue to go unnoticed.” Wynne cut in.

Pallas turned and seemed to inspect the
hedge and trees. “Patience is one of the greatest virtues a
gardener can possess. You only recognize a gardener’s skill once
the seed planted bloom.”

“
Are we your winter
flowers, Pallas?”

Pallas pointed at the hedge and wagged his
finger at it all. “Quince is pleasant, but camellia is what I
really love.”

“
Am I expected to suss out
some kind of symbolism in those choices?”

“
You could try. I think it
would be a fun exercise. I knew a canon once who only wrote on the
symbolism of plants. Brilliant work, he didn’t just track down the
historical definitions and reasons but actually help craft the
meanings.”

“
Some future day, I’ll
read it.”

Pallas let a genuine smile flicker on his
face, “I would enjoy that.”

The sound of another processional wave swept
over them. This time the commotion in the street was muffled.
Voices peeled away from the cacophony and resounded through the
narrow alleyway leading to the shop’s garden. Wynne and Pallas
stood still and listened. Then he heard it, Fery’s laugh. Pallas
held up a hand meant to keep Wynne in place. There was the creak of
aged wooden latches and what felt like a moment that stretched into
eternity, and then Fery stepped into the yard.

She was quickly followed by Declan and Kira.
Wynne paused a beat, and then came towards them. “Glad to see you
all again. Where’s Goshen?”

As he asked, Goshen entered closing the gate
behind him gently. The paladin seemed rather anxious, his eyes
darting all around the garden. He didn’t look at Wynne but rather
fixed his gaze on Pallas. He moved ahead of the other three to
stand between them and Pallas.

“
I’m here.” he said, “Who
is this?”

“
I am your father’s
closest friend.” Pallas said.

“
I certainly doubt that.”
Fery scoffed.

“
I was not addressing
you.” Pallas said coolly. Goshen’s face twisted into a scowl as he
unsheathed his dagger.

“
You mean, you conspire
with the man who wants me dead. Who wants to use me to lay claim to
a Silvincian lordship. Who means by hook or crook to unseat our
patriarch and take control of the faith? That man.” Kira spoke in
an even tone but she looked angry. Wynne could see that Goshen was
just waiting for her to give him some sign to strike out at the
man.

Pallas only smiled, “Yes, exactly.”

“
Father, why is he here?
What’s going on?” Fery demanded.

“
This is Canon Pallas. He
is a theosopher.”

“
A what?” Declan
mumbled.

“
A theosopher.” Pallas
looked at Declan while slowly moving away from the group. As he
crossed the garden, Goshen turned ever so slightly to follow him
and Wynne came to stand with the group. “It’s what you call someone
who spends their days thinking. Pondering the Light, they
say.”

“
You’re faith has a caste
that just sit around and think all day?” Declan asked
Goshen.

“
It’s not quite that.”
Goshen replied out of the corner of his mouth.

“
You’d be surprised.”
Pallas said. “I have no weapon. You are completely safe here. You
needn’t feel threatened Goshen Staad.”