Kidwal was a young woman from the minor nobility; smart, well educated, and very plain. It’d seemed to Sharina that the barely suppressed anger in Kidwal’s presentation was more a reaction to life in general than at her difficulty in getting anybody to take action on her present report.
“She says that the regular temples on Tisamur, at least those within several days’ journey from Donelle”—the island’s capital—“are either deserted or ’ve been surrendered to Moon Wisdom. Most of the priests and temple functionaries have joined the new cult, though a few have gone into lay businesses or are living on their personal wealth.”
“Moon Wisdom confiscated temple lands?” Garric said, frowning. “Is the…who is the ruler, a count? Is he behind this?”
“A Council of Elders governs Tisamur,” Liane said. She touched her desk but didn’t need to open it to withdraw a reference. “Wealthy individuals; all of them landholders, though many depend on trade for most of their income.”
“Moon Wisdom is the government now,” Sharina said. “It’s not imposed by force, it seems to be what people want. Lady Kidwal says she wasn’t attacked even though she’d arrived openly without concealing her, well, duties. But those she questioned were derisive.”
Sharina paused to recall the assessor’s precise wording, letting her eyes follow the barn swallows darting above the water. She could see several mud nests plastered to the underside of the three-arched bridge crossing the artificial stream. Most of the meandering channel was narrow enough to step across, but the architect had provided a lotus-fringed pool so that the bridge didn’t look absurd.
“She said,” Sharina continued, “that one former Elder told her, ‘Whoever saw the Lady, except as a statue being pulled by purse-snatchers in priestly robes? But I’ve seen our Gods, and so have many others.’ And everyone listening nodded agreement.”
“Did he say what these Gods looked like?” Garric asked, pressing the knuckles of his fists together. Liane looked particularly intent also. Sharina guessed they’d learned more from the vanished Hordred than they’d had time to pass on to her.
“No,” Sharina said. “Kidwal asked a number of citizens, in Donelle and also outside the city. That was the only question that seemed to disturb them.”
Sharina cleared her throat. “There’s one thing more,” she said. “Kidwal was permitted to go where she pleased—not into the temple during services, but apart from that. She could talk to anyone, and she doesn’t think she was watched or followed. She says very clearly that she wasn’t threatened in any way.”
“Go on,” Garric said. His expression was still but not calm. When Garric was in this—mood? But it was more than a mood—he seemed less like the brother she’d grown up with than he did a great cat, waiting for prey to come a few steps closer.
“Despite all that,” Sharina said, “Lady Kidwal was frightened. Frightened enough to convince her chief to get her an appointment with me.”
She swallowed. “Frightened enough to frighten me, Garric,” she concluded.
Garric stood and braced his hands against one of the crossbeams supporting the pergola’s roof. He bunched the muscles of his shoulders and thighs, straining upward to work the stiffness out of them. Echeus, waiting across the stream, turned toward the group in the pergola for the first time. He didn’t get to his feet yet.
“Hordred frightened me as well, Sharina,” Garric said. He grinned wryly at her. “That was before we saw him disappear.”
He turned his head, and added, “Liane, can this Intercessor wait while I talk to Lady Kidwal myself?”
“I’ll meet with him if you like, Garric,” Sharina offered. “If it’s just a formal audience, that is. But I really don’t believe that Kidwal knows any more than she told me and I’ve passed on to you. It’s what she feels that’s important, and she can’t give a reason for that.”
“There are reports from Laut that something…odd is going on there also,” Liane said. “The Intercessor’s coming to see you could be an opportunity to learn what he wants, if not necessarily what he plans.”
Sharina’s eyes narrowed very slightly. Liane was too polite to give Garric a direct order, but she was ordering him nonetheless. Still, it was for his good and the kingdom’s, of that Sharina was sure.
“All right,” Garric said. He hitched up his sword belt so that the heavy weapon rode more comfortably. “I’ll talk to Echeus.”
Echeus rose also, tossing a glitter of powder into the stream before he started toward Garric. The men would meet in the middle of the bridge unless one stopped for the other to join him.
Two guards tried to precede Garric; he gestured them back with a curt command. The undercaptain in charge of the detachment eyed the Intercessor’s aged dignity. He frowned, but he didn’t argue the issue of safety with his sovereign.
Movement from the side drew Sharina’s attention. Escorted by another group of Blood Eagles, Tenoctris and Cashel were returning from their foray into the city.
Cashel waved his quarterstaff in greeting. On his left shoulder he carried a lump of stone. From the way his ripped tunics fluttered loose, he’d been to considerable effort getting it.
Sharina smiled as she walked out of the pergola to meet her friends. Cashel’s presence was a wall of security. For the first time since she’d seen Hordred vanish screaming, Sharina felt safe.
Dragonflies and swallows whizzed over the sluggish stream, but they didn’t get all the insects. When Garric stepped from sunlight into the shade cast by poplars near the water, a mosquito keened close to his left ear. He swatted, hoping to drive it away if not kill it.
In Garric’s mind, King Carus chuckled, and said, “There’s more honesty in blackflies than in courtiers, lad. The bugs are just as quick to suck the blood of a shepherd as a prince.”
Garric smiled. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that he was herding sheep near the marshes fringing Pattern Creek. Mosquito bites weren’t something he’d ever have thought would make him feel nostalgic.
The Intercessor came from the other direction at a stately pace. Garric frowned, wondering who Echeus interceded with. Probably he interceded for the people of Laut or at least claimed to do so.
Reise had given his children a classical education which couldn’t have been bettered by one of the academies in Valles or Erdin on Sandrakkan. Unlike Liane, however, who had attended one of those academies, Garric and Sharina knew little more about current events than did any other peasant from Haft.
Garric smiled again. His education taught him that “prince” meant “first.” It was an honest claim, if not a humble one.
Again Carus guffawed. “Princes don’t have to be humble,” he said, hooking his thumbs in his swordbelt and flaring his fingers. Carus was such a vibrant presence in Garric’s mind that Garric had to keep reminding himself that others didn’t see the ancient monarch—who had drowned a thousand years in the past.
The hump of the arching bridge hid Echeus from Garric when they were on the opposite approaches, though both men were tall. Garric looked over his shoulder. His detachment of Blood Eagles followed at a respectful distance. In the pergola, Liane and Sharina greeted Tenoctris and Cashel. They were looking at a rock—a small boulder—on the table. Whatever had Tenoctris found this time?
Echeus rose into view, step by step. He was an imposing figure: spare rather than powerful, but surrounded with an aura of enormous dignity. Garric had the impression of a person whose time scale was that of an oak, or possibly of the crag of a mountain.
“Lord Echeus?” he said when they were within a double pace, right toe to right toe, of one another.