“Celebration!” Areava had exclaimed. “We are at war, Chancellor. Primate Giros Northam is dead. My husband is hundreds of leagues away risking life and limb—”
“Exactly, your Majesty. Which is why your people need to see you are confident about the future, that you are not obsessed with all the problems besetting the kingdom—”
“Of course I’m obsessed by them!” she snapped.
“—and indeed you are thrilled to have the opportunity to throw a party for the city.”
“A party?”
“A celebration, your Majesty. Use Father Powl’s investiture as an excuse to show the kingdom that you are in charge and that, despite the war, the kingdom goes on.”
Areava had agreed reluctantly, and was unsure if she had made the best decision. Until now. Looking down on the palace courtyard, she saw the beaming faces of her people as they enjoyed the early spring sunshine, the free food and drink, and the sign that even with a war the kingdom and its monarch were strong and confident enough to hold such a glorious and pomp-filled event. Father Powl, splendid in the official robes of Primate of the Church of the Righteous God, strolled among the citizens of Kendra, dispensing blessings and thanks to all the well-wishers.
Areava stayed aloof, but was pleased to see her people enjoying themselves so much. For a while Olio joined her on the south gallery. He placed a hand on her belly.
“Six months, the magickers tell me,” she said, and her face became sad.
“He m-m-might m-m-make it b-b-back in time,” Olio said.
Areava shook her head. “No, not now. Salokan has taken us all by surprise. Sendarus will not be back until after his daughter is born.”
“Daughter?”
“Yes. It is a girl.”
“You will call her Usharna?”
Areava’s face lost some of its sadness. “What else could I have called a daughter?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He grinned suddenly. “Olio would have b-b-been nice.”
Areava seemed shocked. “That would only have confused the poor darling. Having an uncle with the same name as herself. What would she think?”
“That her uncle was extremely lucky to have b-b-been named after her, of course.”
Areava laughed. “That’s true. If she is anything like me, that would not surprise you, I think.”
Olio kissed her cheek suddenly. “Everything about you surprises me, sister.” He held her hand briefly. “Are you coming down?”
“No. I prefer to watch from up here. But you should go down. They need a Rosetheme to mingle with them.”
“They would p-p-prefer you, I think.”
Areava shook her head. “You are quite wrong, brother.
They prefer me to be up here. That way everyone is in their place, and they know all is right with their world.“
Orkid waited until the new primate had finished receiving everyone’s congratulations, and then caught up with him as he walked back toward the west wing to change out of his ceremonial garb.
“The balance of power shifts once again,” Orkid said.
Powl looked at him without expression. “That is the most interesting greeting I’ve heard in some time.”
“Now that Primate Northam has gone—God care for his soul—”
“God care for his soul,” Powl recited.
“—I feel the council has moved somewhat away from the queen in sympathy and toward the Twenty Houses and some commercial interests in the city.”
“Not for my part, Chancellor.”
“I have always believed you were on the queen’s side. That is why I approached you earlier to establish a special liaison between us.”
“For which I was grateful. Regrettably, events have meant we were never able to take advantage of that.”
“Those events may still occur, but are you still interested in maintaining a special relationship with my office?”
“Unreservedly, Chancellor. Do you feel it will be important in the near future?”
“It is hard to tell, your Grace.” Orkid said the title with something like deference, which did not go unnoticed by Powl. “The state of war distorts the normal picture. For the moment we are all on the same side, but who knows what will happen after the war is over?”
“Surely that depends on whether or not we win?”
“Oh, we will win,” Orkid assured him. “Maybe not tomorrow, or next week, but inevitably, inexorably, Haxus will pay for its sins.”
Powl stopped and looked at the Chancellor. “‘Sins,’ Chancellor? That is an interesting word to choose. Do you believe whether or not something is a sin is determined by the origin of its perpetrator? Salokan sins because he is from Haxus and is invading Grenda Lear, for example?”
“Surely what is moral in one country—if it is truly moral—must equally be moral in another country?” the chancellor countered.
“That was my point,” Powl said, resuming his walk. “I would not like to think we had been reduced to the level where we believed that sin was somebody doing something we didn’t like, irrespective of intention or method.”
“Are you arguing for Salokan’s invasion?” Orkid asked, not even trying to hide the surprise in his voice.
“By no means. I am merely offering, say, guidance, on your earlier choice of words. Let’s leave ‘sin’ out of it for the moment. You believe we will win the war?”
“Yes, and moreover I believe that once that happens we will see the queen’s council split into two factions, one that supports her Majesty and one that supports the Twenty Houses and certain moneyed interests who would benefit from a weakened monarchy, especially if Haxus is taken and there are new lands and new opportunities to exploit.”
“It is the tradition of my house to support the monarch in all she—or indeed, he—does.”
“A tradition you intend to continue.”
“Without doubt.”
“I am glad to hear it, for you see there is a way to ensure the balance on the council is restored.”
“How is that?”
“With Northam gone, you inherit his seat.”
“Ah, I see,” Powl said. “Which means my seat becomes vacant, to be filled by the queen’s new confessor.”
“Exactly,” Orkid said. “And you choose the queen’s confessor.”
Powl stopped. “Yes, that’s true, isn’t it?” He looked strangely at Orkid. “Lucky for our side.”
Olio and Edaytor entered the hospice through the back door. The priest welcomed them and led them into the kitchen, bowing and scraping the whole way.
“You’re new to this, aren’t you?” Olio asked.
The priest gave a sickly smile. “Your Highness sees my deficiencies with an eagle eye.”
“You m-m-misunderstand m-m-me, Father. I m-m-merely m-m-meant that we are in the habit of treating these visits of m-m-mine with some informality. Indeed, I would p-p-prefer it if you could avoid calling me by my title.”
“Without your title, your Highness?” the priest said uncertainly.
Olio patted him on the shoulder. “It will take some p-p-practice, I can see.”
“I was given a message today that you had a dying child for the prince,” Edaytor said with some impatience. He did not like the fact that the regular priest had been changed suddenly by the new primate. He and Olio really did have to meet with Powl and sort some things out.
“A child, Prelate?” The priest seemed confused. “No. I have a man in his sixties. He has a bad heart...”
“We are wasting our time here, your Highness,” Edaytor said abruptly, then said to the priest, “his Highness only deals with those who are dying before their time, from illness or accident.”
The priest seemed horrified. “But the patient is a good man with many small children—”
“Nevertheless,” Edaytor interrupted, “it was not part of the original agreement...” He let the sentence die. He had already said too much to someone who had not been involved in the original establishment.