“Nevertheless, this has the same stink about it,” Muriele replied.
“Brother Desmond and his men were renegades,” Hespero reminded her. “Worse, they were heretics practicing the forbidden arts.”
“In afterthought, yes,” Muriele agreed. “But I took the liberty of checking the rolls of the monastery d’Ef and discovered that he—and his men—were trusted members of the Church until just before his death.”
“Actually, I think he was probably considered less than sanctified when he murdered the fratrex of his order,” Hespero said sarcastically. “The possibility of evil exists everywhere, even within the Church. I do not deny that. The murders of your children—and the methods used to accomplish them—have served to reawaken us to that simple but neglected truth. We have begun the most serious investigation of our various orders since the days of the Hegemony, a search which starts with the Fratrex Prismo himself and descends to the humblest frater and most rural sacritor. If you have any evidence at all that tonight’s attempt on your life was connected with any man of the Church, I am compelled to ask you what it is.”
“There is none,” Muriele admitted.
“I see,” the praifec returned. “Then what is known?”
“That someone killed the guard at my chamber door with a knife. That he then entered my apartments and slew my maid in the same fashion.”
“But you escaped.”
“I was not here,” Muriele replied.
“That was very fortunate,” the praifec said.
“Yes, it was,” she said wearily. “Praifec, why are you here?”
Both eyebrows lifted in surprise. “To offer my support and my council.”
“What council would that be?”
“Majesty, I must speak plainly. Though I now see your actions were spurred by fear and desperation—and were therefore perhaps in some way justified—they have created pandemonium. Rumors are abundant. Some say that this is some sort of Lierish coup, that you are being forced—or worse, have chosen—to take the kingdom by force.”
“May I remind you, Praifec, that the kingdom is already mine?”
“It is not, Majesty,” the praifec said, with what seemed excessive gentleness. “It is your son’s, and he is a Dare, not a de Liery. You have no claim to the throne at all.”
“Fair enough,” Muriele replied. “Let me be candid, as well. Somehow, an assassin walked by or around the vaunted Craftsmen, entered my chambers, killed my maid, and would have killed me if I had had the bad fortune to be here. Since Cal Azroth, I have found it difficult to place full faith in the royal guard, and now I find it impossible. I trust Fail de Liery, and I trust his men. I do not trust anyone else in this castle, nor should I as you well may know. So I am protecting my life and the life of my son, and my son’s throne as best I can. If you can think of a better way, please share it.”
Hespero rubbed his forehead and sighed. “You are not a fool, Majesty. You must understand the repercussions of this. Whatever you are actually doing, if Hansa perceives that you are installing some sort of Lierish regency here, they will send armies. I and the praifec of Hansa have been working tirelessly to prevent this war. If you continue down this path, we will fail.”
She spread her hands. “Then tell me what to do, Praifec.”
He was silent for a moment. Then, hesitantly, he cleared his throat. “Well, there is a precedent here,” he said at last.
“What precedent do you refer to?”
“Three hundred years ago, Liery ruled most of Crotheny, but controlled only the western part—the east was in relative chaos, until it was ceded to Virgenya.”
“Yes. The lords of Liery hadn’t the strength to control it, and considered it preferable to have it under Virgenyan control than Hansan.”
“Yes,” the praifec agreed, “the animosity between Liery and Hansa runs very deep, to the days of the Hegemony, perhaps to before, when they were warring tribes. In any event, while the Church recognized the legal cession and the marriage that concluded it—the first in the series of Lierish and Virgenyan alliances of which you are the most immediate example—Hansa was the stronger nation, and prepared to take eastern Crotheny by force. Or retake it, as they might put it, since it was originally tribes from Hansa that broke the hold of the Hegemony in this region.”
“I see,” Muriele said, stiffening. “You’re suggesting I allow a Pax Sacer.”
The praifec nodded. “As it was done then. His eminence the Fratrex Prismo could be persuaded to lend troops to secure the peace and allay suspicions that you are showing favoritism.”
“And yet fifty years later, Hansa conquered all of Crotheny, east and west.”
“True, but only after the pax was put aside.”
“So your suggestion is that I allow the occupation of this city by troops from Vitellia.”
“From z’Irbina,” Hespero corrected. “The most holy Fratrex Prismo’s own men. Only until the political situation here is peacefully resolved. It is the best way, Majesty. Hansa will never dare go against the Church. Peace will be preserved, countless lives saved.”
Muriele closed her eyes. It was tempting. If she gave control to the Church, she could rest. She could concentrate on protecting the children she had left.
“The Church hasn’t taken sides on the part of any country in three hundred years,” she said. “Why now?”
“Surely you understand, Majesty, that this goes well beyond determining who will sit the throne of Crotheny a year hence. A great evil has risen in the world, one we do not understand, but one which we cannot ignore.”
“You’ve read the latest reports from Duke Artwair, in the east? Half his men have been slain by what can only be described as hordes of naked madmen, by demons and monsters the likes of which the world has not seen since the Warlock Wars. Whole towns have been destroyed, and the east empties out. Eslen is near to bursting from the refugees, and we are still losing ground.”
“But it isn’t just on the frontiers—Broogh was in the heart of Newland, and destroyed by an unholy creature none of us suspected remained in the world. Now is the time for nations to unite, not for them to be divided. You must stand together against this dark rising of the tide, not fight amongst yourselves as it drowns you. That is what I am offering you—not merely the chance to save this earthly throne, but to make it possible for us all to combat the real foe—together.”
“Under the leadership of z’Irbina.”
Hespero fingered his beard. “The reason we do not take sides in the secular conflicts of nations, Majesty, is because we have a higher calling. Virgenya Dare cleansed our world of the first evil, of the Skasloi. And yet it seems that no matter how well and deeply evil is defeated, it always returns, in a different guise. It is the Church which took up Virgenya Dare’s mantle and her mission. When the Black Jester rose, it was through the leadership of the Church that he was thrown down in defeat.”
“Yes. And then the Church ruled most of the known world for six hundred years.”
“It was a golden age,” Hespero said, frowning at her tone. “The most perfect peace and prosperity Everon has ever known.”
“You wish a return to that?”
“We could do worse, but I am suggesting no such outcome. What I am saying is that we must be unified, and not through war or conquest. We need a cleansing, a resacaratum, that will prepare us for the great test to come. The resacaratum has already begun, Majesty, within the Church itself, but it must—it will—go further than that.”
“You’re asking me to let an army march through my gates and occupy my country without a fight.”
“By holy mandate, Majesty. To bring the peace and justice Crotheny so desperately needs.”