"Men who might be able to tie Lukas to you."
"Or who might tie our mystery assassin to me. I doubt they'd know the difference and the Faith Confessors wouldn't care."
"Consider them dealt with," Chaga said smoothly. "I'll put the word out immediately."
"One other thing," Kell said. Chaga turned expectantly. "I want to know everything those men know. If Lukas' men aren't the ones who took part, I want to know what happened to them. If the men who did help the assassin are not the same men hired to assist Lukas, then I want to know who they are and who hired them. Understood?"
"Thy will be done, sir. You have my word"
The hooves of Gabriella's horse cracked old bones as they neared Andon. Gabriella had known that the last war between Vos and Pontaine had cost uncountable lives before it ended, but she had been a little girl at the time, living above her father's bakery in Andon. From the window of her room she had been able to see the Cathedral library where her mother took care of the archives. She liked to spend days in there, reading not just tales of old Anointed Lords and their battles against the Brotherhood of the Divine Path, but the latest messages about the progress of the war, which were being archived there. Whoever won, the records would remain for future generations.
When war had come, the DeZantez family had moved to Dathyn, an out-of-the-way town in the Drakengrat. Gabriella had been both terrified that the war would come to Dathyn while also longing for it to do so. There had been only a few skirmishes near Dathyn, though the town was close to military supply lines.
The Faith itself had sided with Vos back then, and Gabriella's parents had both been keen that their daughter stay safe in the small village bakery with her father, just in case the Pontaine forces decided to attack the temporary Archive in Dathyn. They never did, and when the war was over, her parents had returned to Andon.
Then Gabriella had grown up and joined the Order, inspired by the reports she had seen, of the generalship of Katherine Makennon, who was now the Anointed Lord. Since then she had seen combat and fought and almost died. Until the past few days, however, when they had ridden past the edges of the Killing Fields outside Andon, she had largely forgotten what the place was like. And, as a child, she has never really understood the numbers of the dead.
For two days, their horse's hooves had cracked and crushed bones still lying unburied in the fields overgrown with evergreen weeds and flowers. She supposed they were well-fertilised with organic material since the war. There was no equipment left among the bones, not after so many years. No clothing, no armour, no weapons. Just bones. She didn't even want to think about how wide an area they truly covered, or how much denser the remains of the dead must be getting as they neared Andon.
"While we're in Andon will you tell your mother about us?" Erak asked. He felt his guts tighten immediately. If Gabriella's mother disapproved, and tried to come between them, he didn't know what he'd do. Well, it was too late to change things, but how was he supposed to feel?
"Don't worry," Gabriella reassured him. "It'll be fine."
The Cathedral at Andon, presided over by Archimandrite Tomas Marek, was the most visible sign of the Faith in Pontaine. There were smaller cathedrals in Gargas and Volonne as well, but Andon was largest because it was closer to home, and because of its strategic value in times of conflict between the two nations.
Its great arms enclosed a Preceptory of the Order of the Swords of Dawn, a hospital, a seminary, and a large archive building. Gabriella felt strange riding past the archive's doors in armour. The last time she had been here, she had been in her early teens, visiting her mother, who was the archivist here. She was already a squire in the Order, and a friend of Erak's, but she had never worn armour in her mother's presence. She wondered whether she would get the chance to visit the archive during this visit, and whether she should wear armour if she did.
There were four posts from which to hang gibbets at the corners of the churchyard of the Cathedral, though of course none had been occupied recently, as the sight and smell of rotting bodies wasn't welcomed by the people of Pontaine as easily in the Empire of Vos.
A gibbet was being prepared in the yard, under the supervision of Preceptor DeBarres. This would be the site not just of an execution, but of a cleansing of the soul. The gibbet was an iron cage, slightly larger than an average man, and vaguely human-shaped. It was pitted and blackened, and lumps of charred meat stuck to the metal here and there. Freihurr vom Kalten gave it a distasteful glance as he watched with Eminence Kesar, who had come for the ritual cleansing after a brief trip to make his report to the Anointed Lord. Eminences Jan Voivode and Ludwig Rhodon had also come to Andon with them. Confessor Kamil stood nearby.
"Well," Freihurr asked Kamil, "Did this man Scarra say anything useful?"
"Little of practical value," Kamil admitted. "He confessed to apostasy in having joined the Brotherhood, and gave up the names of three people from his estate. He also confirmed what Sister DeZantez reported he told her."
"And what of the plot to shoot me?" Rhodon asked weakly. "You'll understand if I have a somewhat biased interest in the matter."
"He confessed to a part in that also. He named Lukas Bertam as the assassin."
"The assassin was killed," Freihurr said, "so his name makes little difference."
"And what about the whereabouts of the other man, Goran Kell?" Rhodon asked, anxiously.
Confessor Kamil shrugged. "Kell was apparently very firm about them not telling each other where they were going, just in case. All Scarra knows is really supposition"
In the Preceptory's deepest cell, Gabriella and Erak dragged Karel Scarra out of his straw and lice-filled cot, and prompted him towards the dark staircase. He had lost some weight over the past couple of days, and his belly had begun to sag. Without his fine robes, he was a repulsive sight, pale and clammy. The tattoo of two linked circles, symbol of the Brotherhood of the Divine Path, mocked her from his shoulder.
"It's time," Gabriella said blandly. "Was it a nice chat with the Confessor?"
"I told her all I knew." Scarra could only wonder whether Gabriella had kept her word about keeping his family's employees in work. He was tempted to ask, to be sure, but then took hold of his senses again. If he asked, she would either tell him they were executed in order to taunt him, or she might be provoked into doing so if the question made her suspicious of them. Always assuming they hadn't been punished anyway, which wouldn't surprise him.
He decided he'd rather not know.
He could hear singing from somewhere outside; the sort of uplifting tune the Faith used to make people think there was a better life after this one.
By this time they had emerged onto the yard and the grey light was blinding after several days in the darkness below. Men and women were singing along with a small choir led by an Enlightened One in pastel blue robes. It was a full service, all for his benefit.
Scarra couldn't take his eyes off the gibbet, an eight-foot high cage of blackened metal and he struggled against his captors as he was led towards it.
Gabriella tightened her grip on the struggling man and, with Erak's help, shoved him into the gibbet. Gabriella had thought she would feel triumphant at bringing this heretic to his cleansing, but she felt nothing. This was just something that had to be done, like oiling her swords. She wasn't sure whether this lack of emotion was a good thing or a bad thing.
She and Erak joined a line of Knights and Faith officials that had formed up a safe distance from the gibbet, while it was lifted onto a tubular gallows, and a valve opened at the top.
As the hymn ended, Eminence Kesar unrolled a scroll and began to read.