Alone again with his brother, Regis picked up the thread of his argument. “No matter how worthy or virtuous the goals, if an action harms innocents, it cannot be good. Can we not find another way of accomplishing what you desire, one that does not cause our sister so much anguish?”
“I have been graced with this power and the vision of what it was intended for. I must not flinch from using whatever means come within my grasp.”
“I have heard very much the same more times than I ever wished,” Regis said, unable to keep a shading of bitterness from his voice. Some of the men who had uttered those sentiments had been his friends, others his enemies. Most of them were dead now, leaving piles of bodies and smoking ruins in their wake.
“Javanne is not an obstacle but your sister, a woman of your own flesh and blood who grieves the loss of her daughter,” Regis went on. “ Youhave the means to ease her pain and restore her family.”
With a restless gesture, Rinaldo shifted in his chair. He looked at the fire, about the room, anywhere but his brother’s eyes. “I cannot rely on men of uncertain faith to reform an entire world. You yourself said change comes slowly, and men must learn to accept new things. What better way to accomplish this than by the education of the young, who have not yet been polluted by false doctrines and sinful practices?”
“Rinaldo, that is besides the point. You—or if not you yourself, on your orders—forcibly removed these children from their families. You can disguise what you did in all the fancy language you like, but it is still kidnapping!”
With an effort, Regis reined his temper under control. He was only a breath away from words that could not be unsaid. From Rinaldo’s expression, both stricken and adamant, it would not take much to push him too far.
“There are better ways of promoting tolerance of the cristoforofaith,” Regis said in a more moderate tone. “I myself can testify that indoctrination imposed unwillingly upon the young rarely works. If it had, I would have converted during my student years at St. Valentine’s. The monks certainly tried to convince me of the error of my ways.”
“You always were a recalcitrant student,” Rinaldo said, softening.
“I believe the correct term is blockhead.” Regis returned his brother’s grin. “Remember, too, that I went there at Grandfather’s wish, if not my own. Can you imagine the situation if he had been forced to send me?”
Rinaldo considered this. “From what I know of our grandsire, he was a formidable opponent and not a man to bend to circumstance. He would have raised half the Domains against us.”
Regis let the comment stand. “He certainly would have made his disapproval known. Who then would have listened to the truth of the holy saint’s teachings?”
For a long moment, Rinaldo did not respond. There was no real answer to the question, and to press the point would surely lose any sympathy Regis had thus far achieved. Moving slowly, as if his joints pained him, Rinaldo crossed to the fireplace. He laid one arm along the mantle. The gentle orange glow from the hearth warmed his features.
“I can’t give up now, and yet I can’t go on. I hoped we could begin a new generation, one dedicated to truth and virtue. Free from the idolatrous traditions of their elders. But it is not so easy, is it? When I think of how I might feel if my own son had been taken from me and taught—” he broke off, his breath catching in his throat. “Can these others, Javanne and the rest, feel any less?”
He turned back to Regis. A fire burned behind his eyes, but perhaps that was only the reflection of the hearth. “What am I to do? How can I keep faith with my calling? How can I reconcile the cloister and the crown?”
Regis stood up and moved into the heat of the fire. They were of a height, Rinaldo and himself, so that their gazes met levelly. On impulse, he placed his hands on Rinaldo’s shoulders, almost a brother’s embrace. The physical contact brought no hint of laran communication, yet Regis felt a deep emotion resonate through Rinaldo’s spare frame.
“Be generous of spirit, as I know you are. Send the children back to their families. By all means, keep the schools open, but offer the teaching freely to any who desire it. Then . . . when your son is born, become an example and inspiration to others.”
Regis saw the hardness lift from Rinaldo’s eyes. The brother he had longed for emerged from the mask of despotic fervor.
The moment could not endure. Rinaldo sighed. “I will have to explain this change in policy to Luminosa. It was at her urging that I took this step. She was convinced it was Divine Will. I see now that cannot be, for the Holy Bearer of Burdens would never add so greatly to the pain of the world.”
Regis restrained himself from pointing out that Rinaldo, not the wife of the Terran Legate, was the king. “It might be better to create an advisory council so that in the future, no one person can unduly influence your decisions.”
“Yes, yes, I had thought of that. But she has always seemed so sure, her vision so clear.”
“I’m certain it is . . . to her.”
Rinaldo nodded. “I see your point. You have saved me from a grievous misstep this day. I have missed your counsel recently. You will not fail me again?”
Regis shied away from the reassurance his brother so clearly wanted. “If you will heed my own recommendation, seek out people of wisdom and experience, even if—or especially if—their beliefs and opinions differ from your own. That way, you will be able to choose among the different arguments the one that seems most wise and just.”
Rinaldo agreed this was a good plan, and the brothers parted amicably.
31
Regis could not leave the Castle without reassuring Javanne of the results of his discussion with Rinaldo. He wound his way through the maze of stairs and corridors, passing from one era to another as the architectural styles changed. Once or twice, he was stopped by Castle Guards and asked his business. No one challenged his right to visit his own family. Other than the Guardsmen and a few servants, the halls were empty.
There are too few of us Comyn to lose even a single one.
When Regis arrived at the apartments where Javanne and Gabriel had set up their housekeeping, he found Gabriel sprawled in a chair, staring at nothing in particular. Regis felt a spasm of sadness to see him thus, a man of action forced into idleness.
“Regis!” Astonishment lit Gabriel’s face, immediately coalescing into a frown.
“I heard about Bertram Monterey,” Regis said. “I’m sorry.”
“Regis! Lord of Light, you just disappeared! With no word, nothing! Where in the Nine Hells have you been?”
Regis cast about for an acceptable explanation and failed miserably. “I’m here now.”
“We would have suspected Rinaldo had you killed if Linnea hadn’t been so calm about it. Javanne’s ready to wring your neck the next time she sees you. She went to you for help, and you just left—D o you have any idea what’s been going on? Ariel—”
“Yes, Javanne told me. I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything sooner. Is she about? I have good news.”
“She’s hiding in the linen closet, counting kitchen towels,” Gabriel growled. “That Terrananwoman is everywhere, bossing everyone about. Not that Javanne has the heart to run the Castle now.” Regis had never heard his brother-in-law so downcast.
“As for Bertram Monterey, that rabbithorn!” Gabriel went on. “Rumor has it that he’s placed cristoforoagents in key positions. You don’t know whom to trust.”
He paused, his expression hardening. “I never thought to say this, Regis, but I’d be happy to leave Thendara. I was proud of my work here and even prouder of the cadets I’d trained and the Guardsmen I led. Now that’s all gone. There’s no more honor, not in the Comyn, not anywhere in the city. I’d take Javanne away to Armida tomorrow if we could get Ariel back.”