by David Weber
In many ways, that proof made it even more remarkable that Rhobair Duchairn’s heart had rebelled against Zhaspahr Clyntahn’s lunacy. Even at the height of the Jihad, the Temple itself—the god lights, the mystic walls, the perpetually maintained internal temperature—had never repudiated Clyntahn. They’d continued to function without so much as a flicker, and surely that had proved God approved of Clyntahn’s war!
Yet Duchairn had rejected it because he’d decided the truth in his heart was more important, more valid, than any external validation. Perhaps he had been a member of the Group of Four. Perhaps he had played his own role in enabling the Jihad which had killed so many millions. And perhaps he had given all that devotion and faith to a religion built on the greatest single lie in human history. But Merlin Athrawes had been forced to accept that for all its lies, all the obscenity of its purpose, the men and women who embraced that religion truly did embrace God, however He’d been twisted by its creators. And Nimue Alban had been raised in a faith far older than that of Safehold. One that believed in true contrition, in redemption. One that validated Rhobair Duchairn far more brightly than any mirrored sunlight or glowing “angelic” seals ever could have.
And God we’re going to miss him, Karstayrs thought now as that phalanx of vicars moved slowly, reverently, through those enormous opened doors. There were over three hundred vicars and half again that many archbishops in that column, and the Temple’s opened doors were so vast they admitted the procession with ease. It moved down the central nave towards the altar at the heart of the circular cathedral, preceded by scepter-bearers and candle-bearers, by thurifers with their censers of fragrant incense, and by a hundred choristers whose voices rose in majestic, harmonious beauty the instant they crossed the threshold.
And at the heart of that procession, moving in a hollow open space, was a single man in magnificently embroidered vestments. Every vicar, every archbishop and bishop, in that procession wore the crowns and coronets of their priestly rank … except him. The bishops’ coronets were simple golden circles. The archbishops’ were more elaborate, crowns set with cut rubies whose facets caught the golden glow that coated the ceiling above them. The vicars’ crowns were more elaborate still, set with sapphires, like the rings of office upon their fingers. But that one man’s head bore not even a simple priest’s cap, and as he passed over the threshold, a single brilliant circle of pure white light fell about him, turning the embroidery and gems of his vestments to glittering glory and moving as he moved, accompanying him along the aisle.
I wonder what would happen if they deviated from the choreography? The question passed through Karstayrs’ mind. The ceremony for the investiture of a Grand Vicar’s never changed since the day Chihiro himself instituted it. How completely are the Temple’s computers locked into observing it? Would that spotlight even be able to find the new Grand Vicar if he wasn’t exactly where the ceremony laid down by Chihiro puts him?
It was an intriguing thought. And if it were to happen, how would Safeholdians react? If the very things which made this so effective at maintaining their faith and their awareness of the sanctity of Mother Church and the Grand Vicar were suddenly out of sequence—if that circle of light followed someone else, instead of the Council of Vicars’ chosen successor to Langhorne—how would that set with Safehold?
Too bad we won’t have the chance to find out, he reflected. Talk about the Nahrmahn Plan! If I thought Owl could hack the Temple, break into the system and reprogram all this … pageantry and turn it around on them.…
He put the temptation behind him and focused on the ceremony unfolding all around him.
.II.
Grand Vicar’s Apartment, The Temple, City of Zion, The Temple Lands.
“Thank you, Father,” the broad-shouldered, red-haired man in the simple cassock said, rising as his guests were escorted into the spacious office. His cassock was a dark, sapphire blue, almost the color of Merlin Athrawes eyes, and he was the only man in the ranks of Mother Church’s clerics permitted to wear it. The office itself was only one of several which had just become officially his, and it was furnished far more comfortably than some of those other, more formal offices.
“That will be all,” he continued, and the upper-priest who’d served as guide paused as he straightened from his bow. He looked very much like a man whose eyebrows wanted to rise, but he controlled them with the ease of long practice, despite any unhappiness he might have felt.
“Of course, Your Holiness,” he said instead, bending to kiss the ring extended to him. Its set was neither the single ruby of a bishop or an archbishop nor the single sapphire of a vicar. It was a massive sapphire circled in a band of tiny rubies and etched with the Scepter of Langhorne. Only one man in all the world was permitted to wear that ring, and it had been made and consecrated especially for him before it was slipped onto his finger the day before. On the day of his mortal death, it would be ceremoniously destroyed so that no one else might ever wear it.
The upper-priest withdrew with a courteous nod to the guests he’d escorted into the Grand Vicar’s presence, and the red-haired man behind the desk smiled after him, then shook his head.
“I’m afraid Father Vyncyt has a few doubts about leaving me alone in your presence, Your Eminence,” Grand Vicar Tymythy Rhobair said, and Maikel Staynair smiled back at him.
“I trust you don’t think I’m surprised by that, Your Holiness?”
“No. No, it was quite obvious you weren’t. Please, sit!”
Tymythy Rhobair waved the hand which bore that glittering ring—the ring he hadn’t extended for Maikel Staynair or Bryahn Ushyr to kiss—at the chairs facing his desk. The Charisians obeyed the invitation, and Ushyr twitched as the surface of his chair shifted to conform perfectly to the contours of his body.
Staynair took the movement in stride without any outward sign of surprise, as befitted someone twice the age of anyone else in the office. He also suppressed a flicker of amusement as he watched Ushyr. The bishop’s reaction was perfect, despite the fact that he’d sat in chairs exactly like these in Nimue’s Cave on more than one occasion.
“Forgive me, Bishop Bryahn,” the Grand Vicar said with genuine apology. “It’s been a … stressful day or two, and I’m afraid I forgot this is your first visit to the Temple. Normally we try to warn people about things like that.”
“That’s perfectly all right, Your Holiness,” Ushyr replied. “Actually, it’s not my first visit, although it is the first time I’ve visited Zion since my ordination. And I’m afraid I’m one of those priests who went to one of the more provincial, shall we say, seminaries.” He smiled briefly. “So aside from my pilgrimage mass, this is the first time I’ve been inside the Temple proper. It’s certainly the first time I ever expected to be sitting in one of the Temple’s chairs! I was warned, of course. There seems to be a bit of a difference between being warned and actually experiencing it, however.”
“There is, indeed, My Lord,” Tymythy Rhobair said dryly. “I remember the first time I experienced it for myself quite well.” He smiled back, but then he settled into his own chair and the smile faded. “In fact, one of the reasons I invited you—invited you both—to this meeting was to apologize for the fact that you weren’t quartered in ‘the Temple proper.’”
“I assure you, Your Holiness, that we took no affront,” Staynair said. “We are, after all, schismatics. I’m sure it would’ve been very upsetting to many of the faithful laity—and quite a few of your Vicars, for that matter—if we’d been assigned an apartment inside the Temple, and we couldn’t have been more comfortable in the quarters you did make available to us.”
“I appreciate your understanding, Your Eminence,” Tymythy Rhobair said. “And it’s nothing less than I would’ve expected of you, given your reputation and the correspondence I was privileged to maintain with you as Mother Church’s Chancellor. Despite that, the apology was in order. The initial housing assignments were made by Bishop Rahzhyr in the Office of Protocol.
He’s a good man, and I truly believe that in his own heart and mind, he fully embraces the belief that all of God’s children simply have to learn to get along once more. But he had to deal with some … interesting constraints, and as a mere Grand Vicar designate, I hesitated to overrule him. All of which is true, but leaves out the minor fact that I think my nerve failed just a bit. I know what the Grand Vicar—Grand Vicar Rhobair, I mean—would have done, and I regret beginning my own Grand Vicarate with a moment of weakness.”
“You may call it a moment of weakness if you wish, Your Holiness, but I think the term is too harsh.” Staynair’s tone was serene as he gently corrected the head of Langhorne’s Church on earth. “The Writ may tell us the Grand Vicar speaks with the infallible word of God from Langhorne’s throne, but any perusal of The Commentaries reassures us that in other settings, he’s allowed to make mistakes or even, as in this case, an accommodation with the pragmatic aspects of our unprecedented situation. Frankly, I think Bishop Rahzhyr was wise. I’m sure you created quite enough uproar within the Vicarate when you invited me to attend your elevation at all!”
“No doubt I did.” Tymythy Rhobair tipped back in his chair, blue eyes intent. “On the other hand, Grand Vicar Rhobair told me several times that one of his regrets was that he’d been unable to invite you to his elevation. I decided that was one regret I wasn’t going to entertain. And even more importantly, I was indeed thinking about those ‘pragmatic aspects of our unprecedented situation.’ I’m afraid I used your invitation to send a message.”
“Of course you did.” Staynair chuckled gently. “Your Holiness, I haven’t corresponded with you for so many years without realizing why Rhobair Duchairn picked a ‘simple soldier’ as his Chancellor. And while I’m certain you felt more than a few qualms when your name was placed in nomination as his successor, I genuinely can’t imagine anyone he’d be more satisfied to see sitting in your chair.”
“I hope you’re right about that,” Tymythy Rhobair said seriously. “And I hope God will speak as clearly and unambiguously to me as He did to Grand Vicar Rhobair. And that I’ll listen as well as he did, for that matter. His death left a huge hole. Trying to fill it is a … daunting task.”
“I’m sure.” Staynair nodded. He also refrained from pointing out that Tymythy Rhobair’s choice of names upon his acceptance of the Scepter had sent a message in its own right. He was only the third Grand Vicar in the Church of God Awaiting’s history to assume Langhorne’s Throne with more than a single name, and like both of those other Grand Vicars, he’d done it to underscore his determination to continue his immediate predecessor’s policies.
“I won’t lie to you, Your Eminence,” Tymythy Rhobair continued. “There are many vicars who continue to cherish reservations about the status of the Church of Charis and its relationship to Mother Church. Vicar Zherohmy, one of my most valued aides, is one of them, although his reservations are substantially weaker than those of some of the other vicars. For that matter, even I have some reservations. I’m sure you’ll understand when I say that schism among the children of God can never be a good thing, no matter how sincere those on either side of that schism may be.”
“Schism may be regrettable, Your Holiness,” Staynair replied calmly, “but it may also sometimes be necessary. Without the schism between Charis and Zion, Zhaspahr Clyntahn’s perversion of all Mother Church was created to be would have continued unabated.” He met Tymythy Rhobair’s eyes levelly. “And the ferocity of the Jihad and especially the … excesses of Clyntahn’s Inquisition made it impossible to heal that schism by the time the guns fell silent again at last. We may regret that. We may weep over that, and there are times I do just that. Yet despite any regret we all may feel, I fail to see any way to heal it at this time, no matter how sincere the faith on either side of it may be.”
“Nor do I,” Tymythy Rhobair admitted. “Having corresponded with you and now met you in person, I find it easier to understand the degree of moral authority you wield in the Church of Charis. If anyone could heal the schism, it would probably be you, but that would exceed even your power in Charis. And I greatly fear that if I were to proclaim the schism healed from Langhorne’s Throne it would prove a point you’ve made more than once. The Writ tells us the Grand Vicar speaks infallibly only when he speaks in accordance with the word of the Writ and when touched by the spirit of God. So far, I’ve found nothing in the Writ that condones schism, yet I find nothing in the spirit of God that would condone any effort on my part to force Charis back into the fold. Surely the outcome of the Jihad seems to indicate that wasn’t what He had in mind, and who am I to argue with Him?”
The Grand Vicar’s tone was whimsical, but those blue eyes were very steady.
“He does seem to have set us an interesting puzzle, doesn’t He?” Staynair smiled quizzically.
“I’m sure that in the fullness of time He’ll get around to un-puzzling us,” Tymythy Rhobair said. “In the meantime, I’m equally sure He doesn’t want us killing each other in His name. I think that’s one of the things the Jihad made fairly clear, as well. And, speaking of not killing each other, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you in person for the Church of Charis’ efforts in Harchong.” His expression darkened. “I can’t tell you how much I hate and regret the reasons Mother Church needed your assistance, but you personally and all of your priests and lay missionaries have done far more than we could have expected from you. And I know from the reports of Mother Church’s clergy and laity who’ve worked with you that your people have refrained from actively proselytizing. I know that must’ve been very difficult, and that the only way it could’ve happened was for you to have made it a part of your instructions. Of course,” his lips twitched in a brief smile, “I also know example is the strongest form of proselytization. Langhorne knows Mother Church’s orders have been using it against each other for centuries, and none of them ever had this sort of horrible opportunity. For that matter,” his expression was very serious once more, “Mother Church herself, or at least the Church of Harchong, was instrumental in creating that ‘opportunity.’ I will thank God for every life you saved, every soul you convinced to believe God truly cares about even the poorest of His children, whichever Church they embrace. Would I prefer Mother Church had done that? Infinitely! But I can only rejoice if you’ve been able to do it where she can’t.”
“Your Holiness, you’re right to call that opportunity ‘horrible,’ and I know the Church of Rhobair Duchairn—or of Grand Vicar Tymythy Rhobair—played no part in creating it. This is an echo—pray God, the last echo—of the poisons which created Zhaspahr Clyntahn and allowed him to do so much damage. Grand Vicar Rhobair made draining those poisons the great task of his life, and it seems to me he’s found a worthy successor, at least in that regard. I thought that from the moment I heard of your nomination. I can’t possibly tell you how deeply and devoutly grateful I am to see and hear it confirmed.”
“I don’t know if I’ll prove a worthy successor in the end, Your Eminence, but I intend to try. I’ve had too many examples to settle for anything less. And not just Grand Vicar Rhobair. I had the honor of serving my first two years in the Temple Guard under Hauwerd Wylsynn’s command. I had the even greater honor of calling him my friend for years after that.” Tymythy Rhobair shook his head. “When Zhaspahr Clyntahn purged him and Vicar Samyl and all their friends, I was one of many who truly realized—who could no longer deny to ourselves—that Clyntahn’s God had far more in common with Shan-wei than with Langhorne. Like too many of us, I saw nothing I could do about it. For that matter, and to be completely honest, I had no idea what to do about it. I was too deeply caught between my faith in God and the Archangels, my loyalty to Mother Church, the Inquisition’s distortion of what the Church of Charis was truly saying, and my own physical and moral fear to find a way to oppose Clyntahn. I couldn’t see as clearly as Grand Vicar Rhobair did.”
“Very few people could,” Staynair said. “And fewer still were in
a position to act. I never knew Rhobair Duchairn before the Jihad, but the depth and the scope of that man’s spiritual journey are breathtaking.”
“A judgment which means even more coming from you,” Tymythy Rhobair replied. “However, even if my journey hasn’t been quite as breathtaking as his, the work’s fallen into my hands. Vicar Haarahld is assuming my old position as Chancellor, at least for now. He has sufficient reservations about the schism himself for me to doubt he’ll find it a comfortable position, but he understands God never promised to make us comfortable, and I believe his reservations will only make him even more attentive to his responsibilities. And among those responsibilities will be to facilitate communication between you and myself. What we’ve accomplished jointly in Harchong leads me to hope we can find other opportunities to work together to build trust and acceptance. In the short term, that will probably only … solidify the schism, I’m afraid, by making it more acceptable from both sides. Unfortunately, I believe that before we can become brothers again we must at least stop seeing one another as enemies and rivals, and serving God together is the best way I can think of to accomplish that.”
“Truer words were never spoken, Your Holiness,” Staynair said sincerely. “And I believe we’ve made a substantial start in that direction. Not just in Harchong, but here in this office. In the courtesy which has been shown to me, to Bishop Bryahn, to every member of my staff here in Zion in a situation I know has been extremely difficult for a great many of Mother Church’s sons and daughters.”
“It has. I doubt it was any less difficult for the Church of Charis, however. And, in that regard, may I ask a personal question?”
