“Are you sure she’s bereft of the talent? It could be latent, hidden beneath the chaos that is her mind, and be driving Seled’s antisocial personality disorder.” Mirjam sat back, a thoughtful expression on her face. “And wouldn’t that be an interesting experiment? I’d like to examine this Seled myself.”
— 21 —
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“Sister Gwenneth?” Landry’s tone was soft and respectful as usual, but she knew him well, and he sounded mildly irked to her ears, which could only mean Friar Loxias and his delegation were in the outer office. Gwenneth let her eyes roam over the abbey’s quadrangle one last time, consciously avoiding the Orb that seemed to mock her.
The stone buildings glistened with rain under a dishearteningly gray sky that matched her mood, and though the building was climate-controlled, she could almost feel the suffocating humidity as if it were a thick blanket. Southern Tristan’s monsoon season was mercifully short, but everything seemed waterlogged. Northern Isolde faced much worse, with storms barreling at it from the World Ocean every week.
“Friars Loxias and Sandor along with Sisters Emilie and Keleos for the abbess.”
Gwenneth suppressed a sigh and turned away from the rain-streaked window to take her place behind the large but plain wooden desk.
“Please usher them in.”
Landry had lined up four unpadded chairs in front of the desk at her orders. Gwenneth did not want her visitors made comfortable in a less formal setting around the low tea table. She hoped it would send an unmistakable message but feared it might be an empty gesture instead. Loxias shrugged off insults, overt and implied, with the disdain of a self-righteous man convinced his truth triumphed over all others.
She remained seated but gestured at the chairs as the delegation entered the office.
“Brethren. Please sit.”
The four wore respectful expressions but couldn’t hide the triumphant gleam in their eyes as they bowed their heads in greeting. Gwenneth studied them in silence one-by-one as they sat. Keleos joining Loxias didn’t surprise her. A Void Ship rescued both from the destruction of the Hatshepsut Abbey during the empire’s collapse. They had entered the Order at almost the same time and knew each other well.
Neither was Gwenneth taken aback at seeing Sandor, a survivor from the Mykonos Abbey. She’d long ago marked him as one of the most conservative, if not reactionary friars. Emilie’s presence in the delegation, however, was unexpected. Lyonesse born and bred, she knew no other abbey than this one and no abbess other than Gwenneth. She hardly fit in with the Lindisfarne Brethren, who were mainly older and from somewhere other than Lyonesse.
“What is your purpose?” Gwenneth asked, turning her attention on Loxias.
“We must move forward and declare this the Order’s motherhouse, Abbess.”
“Surely, you understand my position, Loxias. Absent evidence Lindisfarne was destroyed, I cannot in good conscience do so.”
“Our community includes members rescued from hundreds of abbeys and priories destroyed during Dendera’s madness, and our Void Ships found no evidence of survivors after countless expeditions into what was once the human empire. We are the last. I do not doubt it.”
“That’s not evidence Lindisfarne no longer exists.” Gwenneth wanted Loxias to speak openly about the Lindisfarne Brethren’s true motivations. She already knew what they were, of course, but no one dared voice the truth. “Tell me, why are you and your followers so keen on a symbolic gesture that changes nothing about our lives and our duties?”
“Do the Order’s teachings not say we should face reality, especially in trying times? Yes, finally admitting we are the last Brethren left in the galaxy might be traumatic for some, but it can also be liberating. As motherhouse of the Order, we can chart a new course and better prepare ourselves for the day when the republic finally ventures out and reunites our species under its banner.”
“Fair enough. But I don’t think that’s your primary motivation.”
Loxias adopted a mildly affronted air. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at, Abbess.”
“We can do everything you just mentioned, even without usurping Lindisfarne’s primacy. Tell me, why do I think this push for me to declare us the motherhouse is more because of the way the Order governed Lindisfarne?”
Loxias’ affronted air took on a tinge of self-righteousness.
“Why shouldn’t we play a bigger part in the republic’s affairs? Our destiny is irrevocably entwined with it, we serve the community in ways rarely seen throughout the Order’s history, and yet we dare not raise our voice. Many of the Brethren feel this just isn’t right, including many sisters born here, such as Emilie.” He glanced at the younger woman. “This isn’t just about a bunch of sisters and friars who remember the good old days and wish to recreate them.”
“The good old days?” Gwenneth cocked a mocking eyebrow. “You mean when the Order ran an entire star system like a medieval fief, denying the laypeople a voice? Or when so many of us were rightly or wrongly accused of meddling in secular politics and massacred? What good old days do you mean?”
When Loxias, clearly surprised at her cutting tone, didn’t reply, she said, “I’ve spent the last twenty-five years making sure the Order stays far away from secular politics and governance. Otherwise, we could well incur the wrath of citizens who came here or whose parents came here to escape imperial oppression. They’ll certainly not accept theocratic rule, Lindisfarne-style.”
Loxias made a dismissive hand gesture.
“Please give me some credit, Gwenneth. We don’t plan on making Lyonesse a theocracy. But we deserve a say in the government, especially with deadly diseases running rampant across human space. Or did you forget we provide most of this star system’s medical services, among others?”
“And you think declaring our abbey the Order’s motherhouse, thereby turning me into the Order of the Void’s Summus Abbatissa, will accomplish that goal?” She let a hint of incredulity color her words.
“It’s a first and essential step. It makes you an equal to any cabinet member and the head of the Defense Force and will give us a way of sitting on the republic’s highest councils from where we can influence the course of events. Perhaps we might even convince the government it should transfer control of the Knowledge Vault we built, from the military to the Order.”
“Again, why? The last time abbesses meddled in secular politics, it didn’t end well for their abbeys. Perhaps not on Hatshepsut since its abbey suffered at the hands of Dendera’s Retribution Fleet rather than the local viceroy. But I can assure you on Yotai and every other planet in the Coalsack Sector it was a different story. I witnessed Admiral Zahar’s troops wantonly murdering our Brethren by the thousands, as did those of us who arrived here in Dawn Trader and founded this abbey. I will not allow such a thing to happen again, and that means we steer clear of politics, period. There are still plenty of people on this planet who don’t quite trust us, including government leaders such as Defense Secretary Brigid DeCarde. It takes only one hint the Order is attempting to influence government policy, and our good works will be for naught. Once we lose the trust of the people, we’re finished.”
Loxias shrugged as if her words didn’t matter.
“Then we work through friends in high places.”
“We already have friends in high places.”
“Jonas Morane? His second and last term as president is ending soon. After that, he might still wield a bit of influence by dint of his stature as an elder statesman, but it will fade over the next few years. Emma Reyes? Same thing. Elenia Yakin? She’s no longer in the public eye. Sure, you enjoy excellent relationships with General Barca and many of the senior officers in the Defense Force. Still, they’re a far cry from being the sort of friends who can nudge policy decisions at our behest.”
“This discussion isn’t leading us anywhere.” Gwenneth let he
r eyes shine with suppressed exasperation. “I see no reason we should take on Lindisfarne’s mantle, and I definitely will not scale back our policy of non-interference in secular matters. If you’re that concerned about the Order charting a new path and preparing itself for when the republic sallies forth into human space, you will heed my words and leave things as they are. The path you propose could well make sure there is no Order of the Void left when Lyonesse re-enters the wormhole network in a few generations. To repeat, if we lose the trust of the people, the Order will die.”
A smug expression appeared on Loxias’ face.
“I believe most Brethren support us becoming the new Lindisfarne, especially those who entered the Order on Lyonesse and aren’t burdened with memories of our past. They believe we deserve a say in the affairs of this star system. My colleagues here can attest to that. Put the question before the community and let us decide together.”
Gwenneth ignored the supportive nods.
“I lead this house. The decision is mine and mine alone. We will not repeat the Order’s mistakes, nor will we assume a title that is not ours.”
Loxias inclined his head, but he did not mean it as a gesture of acceptance. If anything, his smug expression widened.
“For as long as you are abbess, I agree the decision is yours. But since you will not even put the question before the community, we four, who represent the Lindisfarne Brethren, have assembled enough signatures for a leadership review.” He fished a data wafer from a hidden pocket. “You will find the petition and signatures duly recorded on this. As per the Rule, you must now convene the community within fourteen days. Until then, you may not make any decisions beyond those necessary for the abbey’s day-to-day operations.”
“And who will you name in my stead if the Brethren remove me?”
“Someone who will seek a better future for the Order. We might even vote on amending the Rule so friars can become abbots and priors.” A smile touched his lips. “Heresy, I know. But, if we find more men like Stearn Roget with a talent as good as, if not better than that of our leading sisters, then I see no reason why men cannot shoulder the top leadership responsibilities alongside them.”
He placed the data wafer on Gwenneth’s otherwise bare desk, but she pointedly ignored it even as she wondered how Loxias managed to gather enough signatures for a leadership review. Did she miscalculate support for his position that badly?
“I’ve said what needed saying,” Loxias continued, “and with your permission, we shall leave so you can consider the matter.”
“And your colleagues have nothing to say? Or are they merely a mute Greek chorus whose role is witnessing your performance? I was at least expecting some commentary on your mummery.” When she saw the surprise in his eyes at her unaccustomed sarcasm, she waved a hand at him. “Never mind. You may go.”
The foursome retreated with more alacrity than Gwenneth expected, and Landry, perceptive as always, mercifully closed the office door behind them, leaving her to contemplate what was, in essence, a monastic coup d’état. Loxias was no dummy. Somehow, he’d assembled a coalition capable of defeating her if she didn’t bend to the Lindisfarne Brethren’s will. Otherwise, he would still be biding his time.
For a few seconds, Gwenneth wished she could call upon Jonas Morane’s wisdom to help her through this, but Loxias’ mutiny was an internal matter, not one for outsiders, even though Morane and Reyes were her closest friends. The Rule demanded she be discreet. Gwenneth faced the possibility she would no longer be abbess by the time her fourteen days of grace ran out.
If that happened, she could only watch from the sidelines while the Lindisfarne Brethren wrapped themselves in a cloak of righteousness so those with unseemly ambition could get a taste of power and take them all down when their hubris outstripped reality. Even after over two decades on Lyonesse, Loxias and his followers from the old Order still didn’t understand the Lyonesse mentality. Apparently, neither did the children of those who fled the empire and chose this as their home.
— 22 —
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“All these years on Lyonesse and I never figured Gwenneth capable of sarcasm,” Friar Sandor said as they left the administrative building.
Sister Keleos, a thin, elderly woman who wore a perpetual frown, sneered. “So long as she’s capable of following the Rule regarding a leadership review, she can be as sarcastic as she wants.”
“Our abbess is nothing if not scrupulous.” Loxias’ long stride carried them across the quadrangle under what he knew were Gwenneth’s watchful eyes. Her composure throughout had been remarkable considering his provocative attitude, save for that barb at the end, which told him he’d finally scored a direct hit. “She will bow to the inevitable once she sees the vote go against her.”
Sandor nodded. “Agreed. A shame Stearn Roget hasn’t joined the Order. Someone with a talent that strong would be a shoo-in as our first abbot.”
“Even if he took vows now, it would be years before a majority considered him ready,” Emilie replied, “if not decades.”
Loxias glanced at her over his shoulder. “Perhaps. But considering how rapidly he learned to control a mind so disordered, I daresay he could rival our strongest sisters faster than anyone might expect. I should speak with Rikkard and see if he can coax Stearn into taking vows.”
“We might be more successful if I spoke with Amelia. She doesn’t broadcast it, but she stands behind the Lindisfarne Brethren, and Stearn is continuing his self-control training by observing her work with prisoners. They spend a lot of time together.”
“Even better. Speak with Amelia, and I’ll talk to Rikkard. If we can entice Stearn into the fold as the strongest male talent on record, it will bring many waverers to our side. Considering Gwenneth will do her best to woo them before and during the leadership review, we should take advantage of anything that helps our cause. I don’t just want her defeated; I don’t want any doubt that a firm majority supports us. It’ll ensure the remaining naysayers fall in line.”
“It would be even better if we could enlist Marta. She’s the strongest among the sisters and respected by almost everyone.”
Loxias turned his gaze on Sandor. “I tried and failed, and one doesn’t try again with Marta once she’s given her answer. She can reach into our minds without us knowing if she’s so inclined, and that scares me.”
“A shame. She would be so useful in helping us guide government policy.”
“Let’s not discuss such matters, especially out in the open. The Rule forbids sisters with an open third eye from influencing others without their knowledge.”
“Then it’s time we rewrote the damn thing. If we’re taking the Order on a new path, then perhaps we should remove every obstacle.”
Emilie winked at Sandor. “Heretic.”
“Gwenneth’s warning on the trust of the lay people is valid,” Keleos pointed out. “We don’t dare risk confirming our mythical reputation for mind-meddling is anything but. I would ask we never discuss the matter again. We will influence government policy without reaching into politicians’ minds. I’m sure we can use other ways of swaying elected officials and bureaucrats. You friars are redoubtable poker players for a reason while we sisters can not only read body language but emotions.”
“Understood,” Sandor replied in a grudging tone, aware Keleos could become the next abbess. She was the most experienced and talented sister among the Lindisfarne Brethren, and those stronger than her wouldn’t want the job in the first place.
They entered the refectory where the Lindisfarne Brethren leadership waited for a report of the delegation’s visit to the abbess’ office. Four dozen pairs of eyes belonging to friars in senior administrative positions and sisters from every discipline turned on them as conversation died away. Their most notable feature as a group was that none of them were survivors of the Yotai Abbey’s massacre, one of the most violent pogroms against t
he Order of the Void in its entire history.
“It went as expected, my friends,” Loxias said, beaming. “Gwenneth denied our community a chance of voicing its opinion on the matter of declaring this the motherhouse and taking a greater role in governing the star system, as Lindisfarne did before the empire collapsed. I presented her with the call for a leadership review, and she did not refuse it. We will settle this once and for all within the next fourteen days.”
Enthusiastic applause greeted his words.
“It is time we shed the old ways.” Loxias walked among his followers, wearing a mask of humility. “The universe has changed, and so must we, otherwise I fear our Order may not survive this dark age. Lyonesse could well be the last bastion of human civilization and we the last of our kind.”
**
“This is utter madness.” Sister Katarin’s eyes blazed with suppressed anger. She’d stormed into Gwenneth’s office uninvited moments after seeing the message calling the Brethren together a few days hence. “You can’t let these idiots sacrifice everything on the altar of ambition.”
“The Rule is clear,” Gwenneth replied in a resigned tone. “They gathered enough signatures for a leadership review. I have no choice but to face the Brethren and let them judge.”
“Well, I won’t stand for it. And neither will those who saw the bloody result of our Order interfering in secular governance. Lyonesse may seem like an oasis of reason, but we both know how fast a society can turn against those they perceive as threatening their future. Pendrick Zahar was a point in case I never wish to experience again.”
“Sandor is a member of the Lindisfarne faction, yet he barely escaped with his life when Jorge Danton wiped out the Mykonos Abbey at Zahar’s behest. There are more than a few survivors from the Coalsack Sector pogrom who support Loxias.”
Imperial Night (Ashes of Empire, #3) Page 15
