Merlin’s eyes flitted ever so briefly to Nynian, then returned to Paityr.
“And Phandys did it,” he said very softly. “That’s a tough, hard man, Paityr, and he broke down twice telling us about it, but he by God did it. And he didn’t do it to protect himself. He did it as the last service he could ever perform for a man he profoundly respected. I know a little something about the kind of human being it takes to engender that kind of loyalty, Paityr. I wish to God I’d had the chance to know your uncle.”
“He was … special,” Paityr agreed.
“And a good judge of character,” Nynian said. “When he realized what was going to happen, that there was no escape, he passed the names of the guardsmen he’d recruited to Rhobair Duchairn, of all people. To the one member of the Group of Four who’d experienced a genuine spiritual rebirth. My God, what that must’ve been like for Duchairn! He had in his hands the names of dozens of ‘traitors.’ All he had to do was hand them to Clyntahn and Rayno, and he would’ve proved his loyalty to them at a time when anything they saw as disloyalty was a death sentence. And if he didn’t hand them over, especially if he actually tried to take up Hauwerd’s task, he guaranteed himself the Punishment if a single thing went wrong. Can you imagine what a man who could accept the charge Hauwerd passed to him must have felt when he was compelled to play the part of Clyntahn’s accomplice?!” She shook her head slowly, her beautiful eyes huge and dark. “It must have been a living hell for him, a thousand times—a million times—worse than anything Thirsk had to endure.”
“I’m sure it was,” Baron Rock Point said after a moment from his flagship in Tellesberg Bay, but his voice was considerably harder and colder than Nynian’s had been. “I’m sure it was, and I have to respect the courage he’s shown since Hauwerd handed him the list. And I don’t have any doubt that Maikel would tell me that any soul can be redeemed and that good works are part of how that redemption works, sometimes. But let’s not forget the role he played in creating this entire jihad.”
“I’m not suggesting we do anything of the sort,” Nynian said. “But I’ve seen an awful lot of what the human heart’s capable of, for good or ill, Domynyk. In this case, I’d have to come down on your brother’s side. This is a man who’s been working his passage for years now, from the very belly of the beast. I’m prepared to cut him some slack.”
“And I’m inclined to agree with you,” Cayleb said soberly.
“But how did Phandys make the connection to Mahkbyth?” Irys asked.
“It would appear that whatever Paityr’s father may have thought, his Uncle Hauwerd cherished a few suspicions about Ahnzhelyk Phonda,” Merlin said. “It would also appear—” he smiled almost mischievously at Nynian “—that he and Ahnzhelyk were … rather closer friends than most people realized.”
“That was then, and this is now,” Nynian said, and Merlin chuckled. But then he looked back at Paityr again.
“We’ll never know exactly what he suspected about ‘Ahnzhelyk,’ but he’d obviously figured out she was involved with her own activities, as well as the role she’d taken in your father’s circle of Reformists. I wouldn’t be surprised if part of it was just the recognition of a kindred soul. Whatever else happened, however, he clearly overheard a conversation he wasn’t supposed to overhear.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Nynian said thoughtfully. “It’s more likely that I was too impressed with my own cleverness. I’m willing to bet I knew perfectly well he was listening to the conversation when I spoke with one of the members of Helm Cleaver right there in my mansion. A lot of them passed through, you know. In fact, Sandaria wasn’t the only member who worked for Ahnzhelyk.” She smiled. “All those remarkably handsome, muscular young footmen who kept themselves handy to protect my ladies belonged to Helm Cleaver, you know.”
“No.” Merlin chuckled and shook his head. “Actually, that never even occurred to me, Nynian!”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to suggest I could be devious or anything.…” She smiled. “But from the way Phandys described it, I’d be willing to bet that Hauwerd caught something I thought would go right past him, since he didn’t know about Helm Cleaver’s existence. At any rate, that’s where the ‘Seijin Kohdy’s Premium Blend’ came from.”
“And as far as Phandys’ decision to approach Ahrloh, Irys,” Merlin said, “that was a combination of an inspired guess on Hauwerd’s part and desperation on Duchairn and Phandys’ part. Hauwerd was the one who convinced Zhustyn Kyndyrmyn to write up an accurate report of what happened to Ahrloh’s son and his wife. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been tempted to approach Chief Sergeant Mahkbyth himself when he was recruiting his list of potential traitors, but he didn’t. Probably because he figured that a man who’d already lost his only child and was caring for an invalid wife had enough responsibilities—and had suffered enough—without dragging him into a possible coup against the Inquisition, as well. But he knew about Ahrloh and his family, and because he’d passed that report on to Nynian, he knew she knew about them. Phandys knew Ahrloh, too—they’d served together—and your uncle knew ‘Ahnzhelyk’ had been instrumental in setting Ahrloh up as a shopkeeper in Zion. So when he saw the sort of clientele she was subtly steering in his direction, he concluded there was an excellent chance he’d been recruited for whatever organization she was involved with. That was one of several things he discussed with Phandys when he realized Clyntahn was closing in on him and his friends … just before he ordered Phandys to denounce him.”
“And why did the Major approach him now?” Irys asked, her expression intent.
“Because of what happened to Zahmsyn Trynair,” Merlin said. “I don’t think they’ve acted out of fear for their own lives. If they’d been going to do that, they’d have done something a long time ago. I think what we’re seeing is a combination of factors. Trynair’s death—and Clyntahn’s threats to Duchairn and Maigwair—have convinced both of them that he’s prepared to pull the entire Church down with him rather than face the personal consequences of defeat. At the same time, Zion’s become a pressure cooker. When you combine the news from the battle front with the casualty totals, the number of families who’ve lost someone they loved, the number of people the Inquisition’s ‘disappeared’ in the capital, Helm Cleaver’s actions and the way they’ve provided detailed lists of their victims’ crimes, and the way the broadsheets we’ve been putting up all over the capital for years now flatly contradict Clyntahn’s version of events, the reservoir of reverence and piety that always supported the Inquisition has pretty much evaporated. There are a lot of people in Zion who no longer believe a single thing Zhaspahr Clyntahn says, Irys. A lot of them. And there’s a much smaller but still significant number of people who find themselves actively opposing him, passively at least. That’s been a factor in the success of several of Helm Cleaver’s operations. People who might have been able to give information to Rayno’s agents inquisitor frequently don’t.
“What it boils down to is that Clyntahn’s maintaining his power through a reign of terror, and every report that comes in from Tarikah or Cliff Peak or the South March—every word about the front that goes up in one of our broadsheets—is one more piece of evidence that the Temple is about to lose the Jihad. Clyntahn and his core supporters are unwilling to admit that, but they’re probably the only people in Zion—maybe even in the entire Temple Lands—who don’t understand that the war’s lost. And it’s a funny thing, Irys. People have a strong aversion to seeing their sons and husbands die in a war that’s already lost, especially when they realize they were systematically lied to about the reasons that war was begun in the first place. That’s true even when they haven’t come to the sneaking suspicion that God Himself is on the other side.