most part they involved providing a high-ranking ear to which aggrieved citizens could complain: salt merchants protesting the new tariff on their product, the clothmakers guild demanding higher tariffs on silk from Seres, and a thousand variations on the theme of what the government was doing wrong.
Occasionally there was an exception. For example—
"An assistant inspector of temple lands has returned recently from Tisamur," Sharina said, loudly enough to cut through Admiral Zettin's question about the confederacy's naval forces. When everyone was looking at her she continued, "He's been demanding an audience with Prince Garric—"
Royhas snorted angrily at such presumption in a junior member of a department tangentially under his direction.
"—and gathered enough support from his superiors to be shunted to me, whenever I manage to get around to him," she continued. "I'll see him this afternoon."
A thought struck her. She added, "Unless you would like to see him yourself, Garric?"
He looked at Liane who gave a tiny shake of her head. "No," Garric said. "But I will want to know what you learn, Sharina. This Moon Wisdom may be more than—"
He glanced at the priestess. "Than a scheme by opportunists to defraud the temple of its proper revenues," he concluded. Only the slightest hesitation suggested that he'd intended to say something a little different from the words that actually came out.
Garric stood, ending the meeting. "Lords Waldron, Attaper, and Zettin," he said. "I'll need a report on the current readiness of the forces you command. By the end of the day, if you please."
He turned his eyes to the Chancellor. In the same tone of command, so different from anything Sharina had heard from her brother's lips during the years they grew up together on Haft, he continued, "Lord Royhas, I want all the information we have on the property and perquisites of the individual rulers of this confederacy. I realize that—"
Someone nearby shrieked like a hog nose-clamped for slaughter.
"What's that?" bellowed someone else, a guard because during the meeting nobody else was permitted near this building and the smaller one adjacent where her brother had interviewed a spy. "What's the matter in there!"
Garric was the first to the door and out it, drawing the sword that he alone wore in the council. Attaper and Waldron had the same instinct to run toward trouble, but Garric was younger and already standing.
Another scream.... Sharina followed Attaper, leaping over the chair Garric had flung aside as he moved. Waldron was at the other end of the room, fighting his way through civilians who'd risen also but weren't as quick to learn for themselves what was causing such terror.
The pair of Blood Eagles posted at the door of the smaller conference room were banging their fists on it, apparently trying to get the attention of the man inside. He had other things on his mind, to the degree that fear let him think at all.
"Break it down!" Garric shouted. Before the guards could act, he slammed his own right bootheel into the latchplate. Sharina knew her brother wasn't Cashel for strength, but nobody who'd seen Garric lift free a bogged ewe would doubt he was a powerful man by most standards.
The bronze catch inside flew out of its staples. Garric rebounded from the impact, so the guards burst into the room ahead of him.
The spy, his face contorted, was wrestling with nothing at all. And yet there must be something, because both the man's feet were off the floor....
A Blood Eagle thrust his spear past the spy's ear; the steel point met only air. His partner dropped his weapon and tried to grapple with the screaming man.
The spy vanished with a sort of twisting motion, like the last of the foam being slung from the rim of a wash basin. There was an odd odor; it reminded Sharina of the way a stone might smell in the dead of winter.
For a moment she thought she could still hear the screams; then they too vanished.
CHAPTER
Occasionally there was an exception. For example—
"An assistant inspector of temple lands has returned recently from Tisamur," Sharina said, loudly enough to cut through Admiral Zettin's question about the confederacy's naval forces. When everyone was looking at her she continued, "He's been demanding an audience with Prince Garric—"
Royhas snorted angrily at such presumption in a junior member of a department tangentially under his direction.
"—and gathered enough support from his superiors to be shunted to me, whenever I manage to get around to him," she continued. "I'll see him this afternoon."
A thought struck her. She added, "Unless you would like to see him yourself, Garric?"
He looked at Liane who gave a tiny shake of her head. "No," Garric said. "But I will want to know what you learn, Sharina. This Moon Wisdom may be more than—"
He glanced at the priestess. "Than a scheme by opportunists to defraud the temple of its proper revenues," he concluded. Only the slightest hesitation suggested that he'd intended to say something a little different from the words that actually came out.
Garric stood, ending the meeting. "Lords Waldron, Attaper, and Zettin," he said. "I'll need a report on the current readiness of the forces you command. By the end of the day, if you please."
He turned his eyes to the Chancellor. In the same tone of command, so different from anything Sharina had heard from her brother's lips during the years they grew up together on Haft, he continued, "Lord Royhas, I want all the information we have on the property and perquisites of the individual rulers of this confederacy. I realize that—"
Someone nearby shrieked like a hog nose-clamped for slaughter.
"What's that?" bellowed someone else, a guard because during the meeting nobody else was permitted near this building and the smaller one adjacent where her brother had interviewed a spy. "What's the matter in there!"
Garric was the first to the door and out it, drawing the sword that he alone wore in the council. Attaper and Waldron had the same instinct to run toward trouble, but Garric was younger and already standing.
Another scream.... Sharina followed Attaper, leaping over the chair Garric had flung aside as he moved. Waldron was at the other end of the room, fighting his way through civilians who'd risen also but weren't as quick to learn for themselves what was causing such terror.
The pair of Blood Eagles posted at the door of the smaller conference room were banging their fists on it, apparently trying to get the attention of the man inside. He had other things on his mind, to the degree that fear let him think at all.
"Break it down!" Garric shouted. Before the guards could act, he slammed his own right bootheel into the latchplate. Sharina knew her brother wasn't Cashel for strength, but nobody who'd seen Garric lift free a bogged ewe would doubt he was a powerful man by most standards.
The bronze catch inside flew out of its staples. Garric rebounded from the impact, so the guards burst into the room ahead of him.
The spy, his face contorted, was wrestling with nothing at all. And yet there must be something, because both the man's feet were off the floor....
A Blood Eagle thrust his spear past the spy's ear; the steel point met only air. His partner dropped his weapon and tried to grapple with the screaming man.
The spy vanished with a sort of twisting motion, like the last of the foam being slung from the rim of a wash basin. There was an odd odor; it reminded Sharina of the way a stone might smell in the dead of winter.
For a moment she thought she could still hear the screams; then they too vanished.
CHAPTER
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