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served a certain foreign king, not to be
named, who dwelt in Mognhagn in Friesland.
    The debate warmed as the ale flowed. But some people fell asleep, the ale ran
out, and then nobody was interested anymore.
    No one cracked the puzzle of the brazen appearance of the Choosers of the Slain.
Dread had had time to mature. That was mythic stuff. Skogafjordur folk were
accustomed to the mythic staying safely and comfortably tucked away inside the
myths.
    Singer Briga was last to fade. He stared into the dying fire. He kept thinking
he had become one of those characters named in passing in a saga, filling some
role completely unlike the real Briga.
    He had seen it happen. He was ancient enough to have known many of the people
featured in the more familiar sagas. He had helped create several
larger-than-life reputations. Exaggerate a little here, overlook something
there. There was no absolute Truth or absolute Reality, anyway. Truth was
whatever the majority on hand agreed that it was. Real Truth was egalitarian and
democratic and not at all compelled to correspond to the world in any useful
way. Truth had no respect whatsoever for Right, What's Best, or Needs Must Real
Truth was a dangerous beast in need of caging in even the quietest of times.
    Ask any prince or priest. Truth was the First Traitor.
    Half a step short of discovering Final Truth, Briga tumbled into the realm of
alcoholic dream.
    5. Antieux, in the End of Connec
    Serifs's secretary was too hasty in showing Bronte Doneto into the personal
audience of the Bishop of Antieux. The Patriarchal legate saw a long-haired,
blond, probable preadolescent hurriedly leave the skirts of the Bishop's robe
and run. Doneto noted the tenting in the Bishop's lap. So the rumors were true.
The Lord had blessed Serifs in that regard.
    The Bishop seemed more angry than embarrassed. He glared at his secretary. He
would have glared at Doneto but did not know the legate so did not know his
standing in Brothe. But Doneto was from Brothe, sent by Sublime himself. That
established the pecking order.
    Both men pretended that there had been nothing to see. Doneto failed to show
Serifs all the courtesies due his station. Which might mean that he was a member
of the Collegium and Serifs's senior.
    But Serifs considered it deliberate, a sign that Sublime was not satisfied with
his progress at extinguishing the Maysalean Heresy.
    The legate said so right away. "We serve a straightforward prelate, Bishop. He
instructed me to be direct." The legate did not speak the Connecten dialect. He
used ecclesiastical Brothen. "He directed you to stamp out this heresy. Instead
of positive reports he keeps hearing complaints from Antieux, Khaurene,
Castreresone, and so forth, all accusing you of abusing your office for your own
enrichment."
    The Bishop was not pleased. These stubborn Connectens ... Sublime V was
overconfident of his own security and power.
    Serifs answered carefully in the ecclesiastical tongue. "His Holiness is welcome
to deal with these people himself. From Count Raymone down to the lowliest
shopkeeper they disdain
    my efforts. They refuse to see a problem. They ignore bulletins posted in the
churches. The priests provide sacraments to those heretics who ask. They bury
heretics in holy ground. Parish priests, especially in the countryside, will not
condemn the heretics. Most tell their parishioners they can ignore anything
coming out of Brothe because the true Patriarch is Immaculate II, at Viscesment
If I'm to get anywhere, that man has to be dealt with. And not just by swapping
Writs of Anathema and Excommunication."
    "His Holiness armed you with the authority to confiscate the properties of
heretics. He expected you to show enough vigor to underwrite the Church's
efforts here. Yet you send appeal after appeal for more funds."
    "Duke Tormond overruled me. He says the Church has no power to confiscate
anything. His lieutenant here, Count Raymone—whom I