Pathspace
Page 47
Chapter 47
Enrique: “And I who am here dissembled”
A nameless attendant darted forward to replenish his snifter. He smiled a thanks to the man and returned his attention to the Honcho. “Yes,” he said, “quite smooth. They're doing marvelous things with springs and things these days. But you don't need us to tell you that, your Excellency. We're sure your new imperial coach is even better.”
The Honcho smiled. “The craftsman are always improving their craft,” he agreed. “I'm sure one day their artifice will rival the best that the Ancients contented themselves with.”
Enrique nodded, but in his own mind he heard disagreement and agreement both to this statement. Part of him heard it with gladness, hungry for the luxuries the Ancients had known: medicines to cure and prevent disease, music captured and recorded in patterns of obedient lightning, and machines that conveyed images and sound across the world, making face to face meetings redundant and far-flung empires and enterprises sustainable. Yet part of him regretted the incessant need to improve the state of technical prowess. It always led to disdain for religions such as his own based upon the pronouncements of primitives. When today's advances make last week's best work seem inadequate, how will the words of men who lived a thousand years ago be viewed, but irrelevant? No one fears the god of thunder once lightning rods are put in place.
He sipped the Balcones from the snifter, taking care not to show his amusement at sipping whiskey from a brandy snifter. According to his sources, the pseudo-cognac produced in Californ was more appropriate for such full-bodied glasses than the Texas-made whiskey. It was more aromatic, for one thing. According to records he had seen, actual cognac, no longer available in the Americas since the collapse of civilization, had been produced according to amazingly rigid laws and procedures. Only certain grapes, grown in certain areas, could be used, the fermented juice then double-distilled in copper alembics, and aged at least two years in Limousin oak barrels before sale to the public.
Californ “cognac”, which he obtained through his unofficial sources was, by all accounts, a fair imitation of the original, although of course the grapes were grown there, and not in the same soils and climate found in old France. Likewise the oak in which it was aged was not Limousin oak. Nevertheless, it was made from grapes, as the Texas whiskey was not, and was aged in oaken barrels. It was popular in Mexico. It also had a lower alcohol content than whiskey. He kept that in mind as he sipped Peter's rye. Peter and his son, by contrast, appeared to toss the stuff down as if long used to surviving and coping with its effects.
“But I am certain,” Peter was saying, “that you did not come to compare conveyances. We do appreciate the honor of your presence, Holiness, but is there something we need to discuss?”
Enrique set his snifter down. “Indeed there is, your Excellency.” He was surprised at the Honcho's formality, given their earlier familiarity, but presumed that it was for the benefit of the Runt. “You remember that earlier, you mentioned a certain cache of confiscated materials which could prove to be of assistance to your efforts to expand the borders of your dominion.”
“Yes,” said the Honcho. “As I recall, your Holiness, you stated that the objects in question, being under Papal ban, could not possibly be examined or utilized. Did I misunderstand you, or has something come to light which could modify that situation?”
Enrique smiled and shrugged. “It is possible that we overstated the case. While the so-called 'gifts' of the Tourists have been proscribed as a matter of Church law, that proscription was never actually an infallible proclamation, since it was a matter of mortal opinion among the College of Cardinals, and not, in actual fact, an article of divinely received wisdom. It is therefore possible that exceptions could be made, in situations of need, given appropriate caution and conditions.”
The Honcho leaned forward a little. “Interestingly put, Holiness. And how might these conditions be satisfied? I trust you have something in mind, something that Texas could do for you and the Church in return for granting us access?”
“It is possible,” he admitted, “that some quid pro quo could be agreed. But I must warn you, Excellency, that even within the Church, there are practicalities to be considered. In order to satisfy...certain elements...we might have to ask for something you might be as reluctant to relinquish as we are to let these demonic tools fall into human hands.”
“I see,” said the Honcho. “I have heard it said that a compromise is an agreement in which neither party is happy, yet both are satisfied. I already know that you would be unhappy to set the precedent of letting the Empire make industrial-scale use of swizzles and everflames from your storehouse. Tell me, Excellency, what is it you fear will make me equally unhappy? How can we trade our miseries for the betterment of both of us?”
Enrique took another sip of the whiskey from his snifter before he answered. It wasn't bad stuff, even if it wasn't Californ cognac. “Excellency,” he said, “I have heard that you have recently acquired a new prisoner. A wizard, in fact. Are my sources correct?”
Peter glanced at Jeffrey. The frown on the Runt's face was transparent, and spoke as loud as words. How does this guy know about the prisoner? You're not going to turn him over, are you?
“Nearly correct, Holiness. I must congratulate you on your sources, but they have not got it quite right. The young man in question is a mere apprentice. I believe his teacher was, regrettably, terminated in the fracas which led to his capture.”
“Nevertheless,” Enrique responded, “he is a practitioner of the forbidden arts, is he not?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” admitted the Honcho. “But hardly a powerful one. He is, after all, our prisoner, unable to escape from his cell, let alone threaten either our security or that of the Church.”
“Are you certain of that? Granted, if he is young he probably knows less than the older wizard. But he might surprise you. Were he to escape, it would not speak well of your security.”
“True. What is your interest in him? Are you hoping to convert him? I can see how it would be helpful to the Church if you were to persuade him to change, and tell others that he has seen the error of his ways.”
“Perhaps,” Enrique conceded. But we both know that his status as an apprentice, in itself, is proof that the people in Rado are trying to raise more wizards. We both know such people are dangerous. I'm told the older wizard captured a group of your scouts all by himself.”
“So what are you suggesting, Holiness?”
“A public execution,” said the Pontiff. “To discourage others from such a path.”