Priest of Lies

by Peter McLean

  “Major Bakrylov, of the Queen’s Own Fifth.”

  I smiled a little at that, and the memory of the gold crown I had won from him at Lan Yetrov’s bear bait. The thought of betting with gold still made my head spin a little, I had to admit, but it seemed that was how things were done in the moneyed circles of Dannsburg high society. The major had seemed like a decent fellow, at least, and among this company that was quite some achievement.

  “The Lord Chief Judiciar, Dieter Vogel.”

  “He’s very dangerous,” Ailsa said, dropping her voice so low I could barely hear her for all that her head was almost on my shoulder. “I’ll introduce you later, but you’ve to show him the utmost respect.”

  “Why’s that, then?”

  “Officially, he’s the Lord Chief Judiciar,” she whispered, her lips so close to my ear that I could feel the warm flutter of her breath against my skin. “Unofficially, he is also the Provost Marshal of the Queen’s Men. He’s my boss.”

  I nodded in understanding. Everyone answers to someone, after all, even a Queen’s Man.

  Eventually it was our turn, and a footman ushered us through those still waiting until we were in front of the herald.

  “The Lady Ailsa and Mr. Tomas Piety?” he asked us, glancing down at the papers in his hand.

  “Father Tomas,” I corrected him, thinking on what Ailsa had said to me a few days before about how being a priest was a respectable occupation. “I’m a priest.”

  The herald consulted his papers again and sniffed.

  “A military priest, Mr. Piety,” he said. “You have attended no seminary that the crown is aware of, nor have you in all likelihood actually been ordained. Even the professional classes have their standards, after all.”

  “I—” I started, but he interrupted me to introduce us to the ballroom.

  “The Lady Ailsa and Mr. Tomas Piety,” he proclaimed.

  I resisted the urge to stab him, but only just.

  Ailsa pulled me through the doorway and away from the herald, and I saw the ballroom in all its splendor. Massive gilded mirrors hung on every wall, reflecting back the light of the chandeliers and making the already huge room look ten times the size it was. The floor was marble and it gleamed with polish, slippery underfoot. Footmen circulated everywhere in their bright red royal livery with the white rose sewn over their hearts, with silver trays in their hands bearing glasses of wine and plates of strange delicacies.

  “What even is this?” I asked Ailsa, as I chewed a thin piece of bread with some sort of salty black stuff on it.

  “Fish eggs,” she said, and I almost spat it out on the floor in front of me.

  “Is it possible to get a brandy?”

  “This is the royal palace.” Ailsa smiled. “It is possible to get absolutely anything here.”

  She caught a footman’s eye and exchanged a few words with him, and less than a minute later I was drinking the best brandy I had ever tasted in my life.

  We circulated, or truth be told, Ailsa did. I followed her around exchanging empty words with people I didn’t know and didn’t care to know, but that was no more than I had been expecting. I managed a brief conversation with Major Bakrylov, at least, which lifted my spirits somewhat. He really wasn’t a bad fellow at all. It was well enough until I found myself face-to-face with Lord Lan Yetrov.

  “Ah, the provincial priest,” he said, and the look on his face was a sneer by anyone’s definition. “Who in the gods’ names let you in?”

  “Aye, that’s me,” I said, making no attempt to hide the Ellinburg in my accent. “And you’re the man who likes to set bears on people.”

  “Oh, I do declare we have offended the good priest’s holy sensibilities.” He laughed, far too loudly for my liking.

  “You’ve offended my fucking human sensibilities,” I said, and I leaned close enough that I knew no one else could have heard us. “You, my lord, are a cunt.”

  Lan Yetrov took a step backward then and he glared at me, but I saw him checking to make sure for himself that we couldn’t have been overheard.

  “I should see you in the dueling circle for that, Piety,” he snarled.

  “Oh, that would be my greatest pleasure,” I said. “I was at war for three long years. I was at Messia, and at Abingon, and I came home to tell of it. I’ve killed more men than you’ve ever fucking met, you prick.”

  He paled slightly and turned away. No one had heard us, so he had no obligation to protect his honor. I knew that, and in truth I was glad of it. I could almost certainly have killed this arsehole in a duel, but what would that have proved? That I was a violent thug from Ellinburg, that was all, and that was the very thing Ailsa had been working so hard to play down.

  No, I wouldn’t be dueling in public with Lan Yetrov, or anyone else for that matter, not if I could help it. There was simply no point. I realized that was exactly how Iagin had regarded me and my empty glares at the Bountiful Harvest. I had learned a lesson that night, and I wouldn’t forget it. So long as Lan Yetrov knew the lay of things and who was boss that was enough, to my mind.

  That was how I did business, in Dannsburg or anywhere else.

  * * *

  * * *

  The night wore on forever.

  The Princess Crown Royal was brought out in an enormous gown of sapphire-studded silk that had probably cost more than a working man made in his whole lifetime. The thing almost certainly weighed more than she did, and I thought that the weight of the skirt hoops against her tiny hips must have been agony. She was a child doll with thick paint and powder on her face, and her hair teased up into an impossible confection of gold and diamonds that I suspected hurt even more than the gown did.

  The princess regarded the room with a studied indifference that spoke of the many layers of tutors and guards and officials between her and the real world outside the palace walls. I didn’t at all care for the Princess Crown Royal, but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the little girl inside her.

  After she had been seen she was taken away again by the swarm of nuns and tutors who had presented her, and the ball went on. As Ailsa had warned me, there seemed to be little point to this occasion. This was how the royal house entertained its most noble subjects, I could only assume, with pointless parties and the opportunity to worship its offspring for brief moments, and even those from afar.

  “I should introduce you to Vogel,” Ailsa murmured, sometime after the third hour of tedium had passed. “Be respectful, Tomas. I mean it.”

  I let her lead me around the edge of the floor, where a complicated dance was under way. It seemed to involve ranks of people facing each other, all of whom knew every step and turn and change of partner by heart. I had no idea how to dance, and I was glad that Ailsa knew that. If she had forced me to attempt it I would have made an utter fool of myself.

  We slipped around the dancers to a place where a tall, lean, white-haired man in an immaculate coat was standing with a crystal goblet in his hand.

  “My Lord Judiciar, it’s such a pleasure to see you again,” Ailsa said. “Please allow me to present my husband, Father Tomas Piety of Ellinburg.”

  This law lord who was apparently also in charge of the Queen’s Men turned to face me, and I’ve no shame in admitting that I felt cold down to my highly polished boots. Dieter Vogel, his name was, or so the herald had said anyway. I had no way of knowing if that was true, of course, but I could tell what this man was just by looking at him. There was something in his eyes that gave it away, something that seemed utterly without a soul.

  He reminded me of Cutter, in a way, but so much more so. I doubted that even Cutter could have met this man’s eyes for long.

  Dieter Vogel was Ailsa’s boss in the Queen’s Men, and from what I had seen it seemed to me that Ailsa ranked at least equivalent to a colonel. That made Vogel their general, then. The workings of the Queen’s M
en remained a mystery to me, I have to admit, and I wasn’t too sure what Provost Marshal actually meant, but it took no degree of cleverness to work out that Vogel was the top boss of that crew.

  “Lord Vogel,” I said, and I could only hope that was the right way to address him.

  He showed me a thin smile.

  “So you’re Tomas Piety,” he said. “I’ve heard your name.”

  “Aye,” I said. “That doesn’t surprise me. You hear everything, so I’m told.”

  Vogel chuckled at that and raised his glass to me a fraction.

  “You’ve the right of that, Father Piety,” he murmured. “I hear absolutely everything.”

  I raised my glass to him in response, and I knew we had an understanding between us.

  He knew who I was, all right, and that I knew who he really was, or that I had a fair idea at least. It showed a degree of trust, that he allowed that, but I knew he would only have to say a word in the right ear and I would simply disappear one night and never be seen again.

  Do what your father says or the Queen’s Men will come and take you away.

  I suppressed a shudder. I remembered my ma saying that to me, when I was very little, to frighten me into doing what I was told. I wondered what she would have made of this.

  Look at me, Ma, I thought. Made it, Ma, top of the world. I’m at the queen’s court, and I’m having a drink with the devil himself.

  No, I didn’t know what she would have made of that at all.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Three days later a messenger came to the house in the morning and brought me a letter from Bloody Anne. Truth be told, I suspected it was Rosie’s hand I was reading; the script was beautiful, and as far as I knew Anne couldn’t read or write at all, as most soldiers couldn’t. She didn’t turn her phrases like that, either.

  My dearest Tomas,

  I hope this letter finds you well, and that the weather where you are is pleasing. I am sad to say there has been sickness near our house these last few weeks, though that will come as no surprise, I am sure. We have suffered some illness, but there have been no deaths within the family and all close relatives are as well as can be expected.

  The weather in the city continues to be unpleasant. Our friend seems to be without sufficient coats for everyone, but I have hopes that I can keep us dry by my own efforts nonetheless.

  Your brother has been taking the air these last few days, on the advice of your aunt, and seems much pleased with his wife and daughter. He spends so much time at temple that I believe he may follow your path into the priesthood, and wonder how you would take that news?

  I do hope to see you again before very long.

  Your loving little sister,

  Anne

  I read the letter three times before I sifted the meaning out of Rosie’s phrases. Such letters were designed to be unhelpful to anyone who might intercept them on the road, I understood that, but this was a strange mixture of street cant and how I could only assume the Queen’s Men spoke to each other.

  “Little sister” was how any female second would end a message to her boss, that was familiar enough, and “sickness” meant violence and “illness” meant casualties. So she’d been fighting the Northern Sons, but no one who mattered had been killed, although “as well as can be expected” sounded as though she might have some wounded to deal with.

  The business about weather and coats confounded me for a moment, I have to admit, but I took it to mean that there was still unrest in the city and the governor was struggling to contain it. It sounded like Aunt Enaid had decided it was safe to let Jochan out of her cellar, too, and that was good, but what the bit about the temple was supposed to mean I had no idea.

  In the end I showed the note to Ailsa, and it seemed that part meant nothing to her either.

  “It’s no code of ours,” Ailsa said after she had scanned the letter. “Perhaps she means it plain, that your brother has taken up religion.”

  “I’d be fucking surprised,” I said. “Still, with the state of him before we left I suppose anything’s possible.”

  It had been almost two months since I had left Ellinburg, after all, and Jochan was so unstable that a lot could have changed in that time. I wondered if that was a good thing or not, and eventually decided that I had no idea.

  The news was a week old at best, and there was nothing I could do about it from Dannsburg anyway. I sat and penned a hasty reply for the messenger who was still waiting in the hall, following Rosie’s example on the way things should be phrased.

  My dear little sister,

  Good to hear that you and the family are well. I know you’ll do all you can to keep the sickness from our door, and tend to those who may be suffering from illness. Everyone here is healthy, and the weather appears to be fine, although it is difficult to tell in foreign climes. If the weather worsens at home, don’t expect our friend to bring coats. Keep our people dry as best you can, and let the rest drown if need be.

  Take my aunt’s advice on my brother, she knows him better than any, but be wary of his mood if the weather worsens.

  I will return when I can, but I can’t say as yet when that may be.

  Your loving big brother,

  Tomas

  That done I read back over the two letters, and I had to admit that Rosie’s hand put mine to shame. Still, it was readable and that would have to do. I folded and sealed the note, and gave it to the messenger with instructions to deliver it to the lady who had written to me. That would be Rosie, I was sure. I suspected this man was yet another of the network of agents who worked for the Queen’s Men, whether they knew that they did or not.

  Once the messenger was on his way I rejoined Ailsa in the drawing room.

  “Can I ask you something?” I said.

  “You can ask,” she said. “Whether I give an answer will depend on what the question is.”

  We were alone, the servants having grasped by then that I didn’t like having them in the room with me unless they were actually wanted for something.

  “How many of you are there? Queen’s Men, I mean.”

  Ailsa took a sip of her morning tea and looked at me over the rim of the bowl, obviously deciding whether to answer me at all.

  “I have absolutely no idea,” she said, after a moment. “It would rather depend on your definition.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of what a Queen’s Man actually is. I have the Queen’s Warrant, and of course Iagin does too. The Queen’s Warrant grants absolute royal authority to the bearer, and I assure you those are not given out lightly. The Queen’s Men as you think of them, people like me and Iagin, are few in number. Those who work for us, though, they are many. Some of them know who they work for, like Rosie, and some, like Grachyev, do not. The eyes and ears and knives of the Queen’s Men are everywhere, but those who carry the warrant are very few. How many, I honestly don’t know.”

  “You’re not like the army, then, with a chain of command?”

  “No, not at all,” she said. “I report directly to the Provost Marshal, and my support staff and agents are my own affair and report only to me. I have no idea who Iagin’s listeners and knives are, beyond Grachyev’s organization, any more than he knows mine.”

  “Why the fuck not? That just sounds like making life hard for yourselves for the fun of it, when you could be organized so that you worked together.”

  “Oh, there’s no fun in it, I assure you,” she said. “We are not the army, Tomas. This way, if I were to be captured and put to the question by our enemies, as my predecessor in Ellinburg was, I could give away no more than my own staff. I couldn’t betray another Queen’s Man whatever they did to me, because I simply wouldn’t know the answers to their questions. No torment could make me give up a secret that I do not know. That’s how this works, because those are the realities we
face.”

  I nodded in understanding. Those were the times we lived in, as she said.

  It seemed to me that each true Queen’s Man was like the boss of their own independent crew, then, each answering to the same overboss but knowing little if anything of each other’s businesses. That was either very clever or extremely foolish, and I wasn’t sure which.

  Either way, it made Ailsa a very brave woman.

  To face the question was one thing, but to know that you had no possible escape from it was quite another. Everyone thinks they can resist torture, and everyone is wrong. Perhaps they can hold out for a little while, but that’s all. Almost anything can be endured for a little while, when you know there’ll be an end to it; every soldier knows that. I had seen things in Abingon that told me that was true. But when you know there won’t be an end, that was another matter. Everyone breaks eventually, in the right hands, and spills their secrets to make the torment stop. But if you truly don’t know the answers to their questions, then where can you go, other than shrieking down to Hell?

  The thought made me shiver. I had seen men put to the question, and I’ve no shame in admitting that it wasn’t something I would have been prepared to face with half her bravery.

  The lioness was made of stone and iron, make no mistake about it.

  “Right, well,” I said at last, and got to my feet.

  “Oh, before you go, we’ve received an invitation,” Ailsa said.

  “For the Lady’s sake, not another fucking ball.”

  “No,” she said. “This one is rather different. It’s from my parents.”

  I blinked at her. Neither of her parents had come to our wedding and I hadn’t known for sure that they were even still alive, for all that she had said they were. This was the first I’d heard of them since we arrived in Dannsburg.

  “I see.”