“We’ve never been able to really decide how much of him is corrupt cynicism and how much is genuine zealotry,” she reminded him. “For that matter, I very much doubt he could separate them. But we’ve always known he’s been driven at least partly by a genuine commitment to his own twisted vision of what God’s like, and I think it’s entirely possible—probable, really—that he’s retreating into—what was it you called it the other day, Merlin? A ‘bunker mentality,’ wasn’t it?”
“It was indeed.” Merlin tipped back in his chair and folded his arms, his expression thoughtful. “And I think you’ve got a point. Clyntahn’s not the sort who could ever really believe in the possibility that he’d fail. It’s just not in his makeup. But now the proof that he has failed is there for everyone to see, even him. So it’s actually pretty likely he’d insist that God and the Archangels will come swooping in to the rescue, no matter what happens. But for that to happen, he and the others have to prove they’re worthy of divine intervention, and that means fighting to the last drop of everyone else’s blood.”
“That’s what I was afraid you were all going to say,” Nahrmahn sighed. “Because the way I’ve been reading this, it’s not a good sign from our perspective. If he’s able to send Trynair to the Punishment, then he’s obviously in total control, and that means he really is going to fight ‘to the last drop of everyone else’s blood’ rather than let even a scrap of rationality to creep into the Temple’s position.”
“I hate to say this,” Pine Hollow said slowly, “but is that really a bad thing from our perspective?”
The others all looked at him, and he waved one hand, his expression troubled.
“From the perspective of ending this damned war without killing any more people than we have to, it’s a terrible thing,” he said. “I know that. But the truth is that from our perspective, the inner circle’s perspective, this war isn’t really about reforming the Church. It’s about overthrowing the Church, about breaking the Writ and the Proscriptions, and hopefully doing it before any millennial visitors drop in on us. If Clyntahn’s willing to continue the fight until we drag him out of his last lizardhole by the scruff of his neck, we’ll be in a far better position to impose terms that break the Church’s moral authority once and for all. He’s already done a pretty damned good job of undermining that authority; now he may be giving us a chance to complete its destruction.”
“Something to that,” Cayleb said after a moment, and sighed. “In fact, I should probably admit I’ve been thinking pretty much the same thing. It’s just that I’m so sick of all the blood, all the dying.”
“We all are, sweetheart,” his wife said gently. “But that doesn’t make Trahvys wrong.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Nynian agreed. “On the other hand, Zion’s turning into a snake pit right now. There’s no way to predict how Trynair’s Punishment will affect that, but I doubt it’s done anything to tamp down the tension. Between what’s happening at the front, Trynair’s execution, Helm Cleaver, and those broadsheets of Owl’s, there’s an awful lot of pressure building in the city. Right this minute, it looks like the Inquisition’s in total control, but the truth is, there’s no such thing as ‘total control.’ I’d say there’s a possibility—probably remote, at the moment, but still there—of a genuine insurrection if Clyntahn and his inquisitors push it too far. And if that happens, all bets are off.”
.III.
Earl Rainbow Waters’ Headquarters,
City of Chyzwail,
West Wing Lake,
Tarikah Province,
Republic of Siddarmark.
“You sent for me, Uncle?”
Taychau Daiyang looked up from the endless stream of reports and rubbed his eyes as Baron Wind Song entered his office. That office had once belonged to the Mayor of Chyzwail, but the mayor didn’t need it anymore … and Earl Rainbow Waters did.
“Yes, I did,” he said, and pointed at the chair beside his desk. “Sit.”
Wind Song obeyed, and if his expression was calm, his eyes were worried. The silver streaks in his uncle’s dark hair had grown far broader, and although he remained immaculately groomed, his eyes were red rimmed from too little sleep and too much reading, too much poring over maps and orders of battle. He’d always been a physically robust man, but his hands had developed a tremor. It was still a tiny thing, one only the eyes of someone who knew him very well might have noticed, but Wind Song did know him.
“I’ve been reading our dispatches from home,” Rainbow Waters said after a moment. “And from Zion.” Their eyes met, and the earl shrugged ever so slightly. “It seems matters are coming to a head—here at the front, I mean, of course.”
“Of course,” his nephew agreed.
“I’m not certain everyone back in Zion and Shang-mi fully understands the gravity of our position here,” Rainbow Waters continued after a moment. “Oh, they clearly understand that Green Valley and Klymynt are pressing us hard here in Tarikah, but I’ve just received a report that Eastshare’s mounted infantry have occupied Bauskum. Charisian mounted patrols have been spotted by our Ferey River pickets as well, and there are reports his scout snipers are reconnoitering around Rainyr’s Hollow.”
Wind Song’s face tightened. Rainyr’s Hollow was a small farming town—a ghost town, now, like every other village and town in this part of Tarikah—barely a hundred miles by road from the Sairmeet-Gleesyn High Road. For that matter, it was little more than a hundred and fifty air-miles from Chyzwail. Once upon a time, a hundred and fifty miles would have offered a comfortable degree of security, but Charisian mounted infantry, balloons, mobile field artillery, and infantry angle-guns had changed that.
“We can’t say which way his main body will advance, but from all reports, Bishop Militant Lainyl will be forced to surrender at Mercyr any day now. Coupled with Eastshare’s activity, that strongly suggests it will be Golden Tree’s turn at Sairmeet next. He’s already under heavy pressure from Stohnar from the east. If Eastshare swings in behind him as he did to Brygham at Mercyr, the consequences would be … unfortunate.”
That’s certainly one way to describe the collapse of our most critical blocking position, Wind Song thought.
“The Baron has requested permission to begin planning for a withdrawal,” Rainbow Waters said. “I’ve granted it with, of course, the understanding that he must hold his ground as long as he reasonably can.”
“Of course.” Wind Song nodded. “May I ask if Bishop Merkyl has countersigned that permission?”
“I haven’t yet had the opportunity to discuss it with the Bishop,” Rainbow Waters said. “I’m confident that, when I do, he’ll find himself in agreement.”
Wind Song nodded again, although he wouldn’t have cared to wager on the Mighty Host’s intendant’s agreeing to anything of the sort. Merkyl Sahndhaim had grown steadily more querulous as the situation worsened. It couldn’t be very much longer before he began countermanding Rainbow Waters’ decisions rather than simply criticizing them, at which point.…
“As I say,” Rainbow Waters went on after a moment, “I’ve also been reading the correspondence from Zion and Shang-mi. The letters from the capital, in particular, cause me some small concern. It’s essential that we continue moving troops forward. While I remain fully confident of the Mighty Host’s fighting spirit, the possibility that we may be forced to retreat to the far side of the Tairohn Hills, or even as far as the Kingdom of Hoth, must be faced. Should that happen, we’ll need every man we can get to bolster our new front.”