Once Father Obilade was gone, Shagot kicked another head and said, "These Brotherhood people knew exactly what was supposed to happen in the Madhur Plaza. How could that be?"

"What have you done?" Paludan whined again.

I have shaken Brothe's foundation stones, Shagot thought.

Never in all his life had he had so much impact upon others. Not even at the height of the sturlanger raids on the coasts of the Isle of Eights had so many people who had no idea who he was suffered so much because of his actions.

"I'm just trying to make a living," Shagot replied. "I don't think that requires me to be sacrificed to some local half-wit's ambition."

Father Obilade returned. He brought more than three hundred ducats in gold coins bearing the likenesses of dead Patriarchs. Shagot checked a few to make sure they were real. "Good. Good. I hope you gentlemen don't resent the lesson in fair play." He crooked a finger at the old priest. "Closer, Father. Closer."

When the old man was close enough, Shagot leaned in to whisper, "These guys know what really happened, Padre. You'd better hike up your skirt and run." In a voice that carried, he continued, "Thanks, everyone. Try not to be such a bunch of weasels, eh?"

Shagot got out of there before sleep could hammer him down.

Touched by the favor of the night, he managed to rejoin his brother before he collapsed.

Once sleep came, though, it would not withdraw until Svavar neared a state of panic. Could his brother possibly survive?

20. Khaurene, in the End of Connec

Winter in the Connec was a season of worry. For those who tried to come to grips with what Arnhanders called the Black Mountain Massacre. Because the invaders insisted that that disaster was in no way their fault.

Well-meaning pilgrims had entered the Connec to help harried Episcopal coreligionists protect themselves from the predations of heretics who roasted babies and sacrificed virgins. Unless that went the other way around.

"That about sum up your position?" Count Raymone Garete flung at the obnoxious, insulting deformed hunchback of an envoy from Salpeno, Father Austen Rinpochй. "You couldn't invent something more ridiculous? You could've accused us of having sexual congress with goats. Fool. Our intransigent apostasy and heresy is why there's an active Episcopal church on every other corner in Khaurene. It's why there are more real cathedrals in the End of Connec than there are in all of your piss-drinking Pail of Arnhand. We built those cathedrals, of course, so we'd have somewhere to snuggle with our goats."

Duke Tormond tried to restrain the young noble. But Count Raymone was beyond restraint. Following his triumph over Baron Algres, Raymone's voice would be loud in the councils of the Connec. "You're speechless? A priest? Talk to me, priest. Name one Episcopal in the End of Connec who has suffered at the hands of the Seekers After Light"

Gleefully, Father Rinpoche retorted, "Bishop Serifs of Antieux."

Silence.

More silence.

Someone said, "Sweet Aaron on a jackass, the fool is serious."

Count Raymone sneered, "The priest isn't a fool. He's a league beyond. He's a complete idiot."

Even the Great Vacillator, Duke Tormond, stared at Father Rinpochй like he thought the man was a half-wit reveling in his debility. "Are you serious, Father? That man was a thief. He abused his office. He was indifferent to the rights of others. He was a perjurer, a pederast, and a sodomite. There's no end to the catalog of his crimes. Absent the protection of Sublime he would've been hung years ago. I did feel some sympathy for your mission until now. But we all know rats who deserve higher honors than Bishop Serifs."

Count Raymone snapped, "Serifs was such a waste that Principatй Bronte Doneto – the Patriarch's own cousin – had him thrown off a cliff after they failed to rob and morder the people of Antieux."

Father Rinpochй clung to his position.

Duke Tormond stood. He clasped his hands but let his arms hang. "I'm a good Episcopal, Father. I attend church every day. I never miss confession. I sent a letter to the Holy Father asking what more can possibly be expected. He hasn't replied. Meantime, we're here and, yet again, we're being subjected to unfounded and trumped-up charges by men whose interest in God's work is secondary to their hopes of plundering the Connec. Hear me, Rinpochй. In this hall, with you, is almost every man of substance in Khaurene. I challenge you to go among them and find one unbeliever."

Not the wisest challenge, in Brother Candle's view. He was there. And not alone in his inability to recognize the infallibility of Sublime V.

The Arnhander priest did not take the challenge. He refused to speak to it, or even to acknowledge it.

Rinpochй could only return to Salpeno and report that the Connec remained recalcitrant, intransigent, and that those agents of the Adversary, the Maysaleans, had gained hidden mastery. The sole practical answer appeared to be the one the Patriarch was pushing privately, a crusade to extinguish the Maysalean Heresy.

The powerful in Salpeno had no trouble accepting Father Rinpochй's arguments. Most hungered for revenge, for plunder, and had little interest in any truth that got in their way. They had, as well, a feeble king unable to execute his royal duties while remaining equally incompetent at dying. Though his death would avail nothing. There was no crown prince.

That looked sweet to a spectrum of ambitious dukes, barons, and relations legitimate and otherwise.

It held an equally powerful appeal to the lords and knights of Santerin's continental possessions, along their frontiers with Arnhand.

There were skirmishes and incursions almost every day, from down south where Tramaine bumped against the Connec all the way to the northernmost villages on the seacoast east of easternmost Argony. Local knights and garrisons did little to make life difficult for the aggressors. Members of the same families lived on both sides of the shifting border. Feudal obligations in the marches changed with every marriage, birth, death, and with the altering fortunes of war.

And a change of rulers made little difference in the lives of local people. Some peasants did not speak the language of either set of masters.

Every Arnhander family of substance had relatives overseas, in the crusader states. They sent their young men east to temper them in the ruthless struggle for control of the Holy Lands.

The young men took servants and foot soldiers and treasure with them.

Usually only the young men themselves returned – no longer young.

With so many strains upon it, it was insanity for Arnhand to listen to Sublime's mad call for help punishing the Chaldareans of the Connec for their recalcitrance and the Connecten Seekers After Light for disrespecting God Himself.

Anne of Menand, mistress of Arnhand's king, had two children by her lover. The eldest was a son, Regard. Regard was just fourteen but of sound mind and body and had a regal air. In normal times no one would consider him a candidate to replace his father. Legitimacy was a huge issue for the Arnhander nobility. But these were abnormal times. Dedicated schemers could get the past restructured to render Regard legitimate.

Anne had presented her favors to a select few outside the royal bedchamber as well, creating a circle of accomplices. The boy's father was amenable to her strident efforts to have Regard designated Crown Prince. But powerful factions were arrayed behind rival candidates.

Anne of Menand was a schemer and manipulator and slut. She bedded men not only to manipulate them but because she was possessed by a huge enthusiasm for night sports. Yet she was a devout Chaldarean with a sincere belief in Patriarchal infallibility. If Sublime asked for troops to punish the apostate Connec, then Arnhand should produce those troops.