18 Days to the Falling

"I didn’t hear you say that."

Bishop Ra stared vacantly into the pool. To an outside observer, he appeared serene, watching the swollen bodies of colorful carp lazily gliding through the ornamental pond in the Tower garden. But I understood that the man was deep in thought.

His tone was firm and judgmental. I no longer flinched at such a rebuke. There had been a time when words like those would have made me cower. No longer. This was business, and he was rejecting my offer.

I said, "Perhaps you misunderstand me, Your Grace. The offer wasn’t a bribe. I wouldn’t dream of trying to bribe a person of your standing and honor."

It had certainly been a bribe.

I continued, "I speak of a donation. Something the church could use for good works—to build shrines to the Oracle, to aid the poor."

Ra nodded slowly, as if deciding whether to follow my lead. "A donation conditional on ignoring an act of heresy?"

"No, Your Grace, not ignoring it," I replied. "You could consider my offer as part of Leona’s penance. I would suffer on her behalf, paying reparation to the church and the Oracle for her misdeed. I know you can’t pardon her, but change her sentence. Send her from the city—banish her. Just don’t take her head."

Ra stroked his chin as he watched the fish swim. We stood alone, far from prying eyes and ears—the Sword and the Bishop, walking together in the early light of the garden.

"Why do you care so much for the girl? I’m not complaining," he said with a shrug. "Baltazar’s compulsion for us to postpone the execution has only afforded us more opportunities to display the sinner for what she is. It’s good for the citizenry to have a focus for their zeal; it strengthens it."

"She didn’t act alone," I said. "And she didn’t act of her own accord. Leona broke the rules of the Choosing out of a sense of duty and obligation. I still don’t know what pressures were applied to her, but they must have been vast. She knew she would die for the infraction. Consider for yourself what must have been pressed upon her to force her to act."

He replied, "Heresy is heresy. If you raped a woman or killed a man at the behest of another, would you not expect punishment?"

"But I forgive her," I argued, "and the crime in this case was committed against me."

Ra shook his head. "The crime was committed against the Oracle. The Choosing is the expression of the Oracle’s will, and you are simply its product. Don’t forget that, Lord Bloodsword. You are simply the vessel for the Oracle’s designs in the physical world."

I tried not to roll my eyes or let my frustration show.

We stood quietly for a time. Maybe Ra really was distracted by the fish. I found myself briefly mesmerized by their languid movements, the light reflecting off their colored scales, the way they moved in liquid grace.

Finally, I said, "There must be something I can do."

Ra responded, "You say that as if it is fact and not a question at all."

"We wouldn’t be standing here discussing this if there wasn’t something I could do," I said. "You wanted to hear what I would offer, but you came here with some demand of your own."

Ra smiled, genuine amusement lighting his face. "You’re growing fast, young Sword. You’re learning the ways of the game. There might be more of your father in you than you realize. I can’t say I’m thrilled to have to deal with a Sword who grows into the ways of politics, but there’s promise in it all the same. It will be good to have a Sword who can bargain and make practical concessions."

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He turned and started to walk slowly up the path, his hands clasped behind his back. The red orchids beckoned once again. I could see them. It took conscious effort to keep my mind on the Bishop and not let it drift off into the sea of half-formed memories.

I walked alongside him. He was Bishop, I was Sword. It was expected for me to show some deference to the Oracle’s most cherished servant, yet the truth was simpler—we were equals now. He was the pinnacle of religious power in the city and, more importantly, the chief technician in the machine that provided the city with control over its Order. I was the tip of our military spear. My powers differed from his but were no less grand.

Ra said, “You fought the renegade Lord Perdinger.”

I nodded.

“He’s been seen since, though he appears to have one less hand than before. Was that your doing?” he asked.

“It was,” I replied.

“You do the Oracle’s work in this. I commend you. It’s a shame you couldn’t put the sick dog down, but a renegade Griidlord is the greatest heresy of all. Perdinger has taken the power of a god, granted to him for the betterment of his city, and turned it to his own ends.”

“He was working for the Green Men,” I added. “He spoke of the Green Man before we fought.”

Ra nodded thoughtfully. “The Green Man… What do you know of them?”

“They’re inspired by Greenbay. They want a society without lords and ladies, without distinction. They want the resources of the land to be distributed evenly, to see an end to rich and poor.”

He said, “Sounds noble enough, does it not?”

I hesitated. My views on the Green Men had been shaped more by Father than by my own reflections. “It’s a noble idea in theory. But in practice—especially the way they practice it—if they take hold of Buffalo, what will happen to the city? Buffalo must compete with other powers in the land. To field and equip armies, the city needs wealth. How can a city devoid of the motivation to seek profit compete with cities like Boston, where the drive to succeed pushes men to greater feats?”

“Well said. You sound like Sempronius. I couldn’t have put it better,” Ra remarked. “But there’s another reason we must be concerned about these Green Men. They have their own mockery of a priesthood. They preach against the Oracle; they speak heresy. It’s one of the ways they sow discontent and twist the minds of men against the greater good and the system that has seen mankind flourish in the thousand years since the fall of the old orders.”

I listened, sensing he was approaching a point.

“There is a nest of these animals lurking in Buffalo territory,” he continued. “The insects operate from this hole, and their tendrils extend even to our home. Their lies and blasphemy poison not only their own people but ours as well. I have no power to act over this hive of demons. Officially, that is the domain of the Bishop in Buffalo. But he fails to act. The why of it I neither understand nor care to understand. The reality is simple: as he lets the wound fester and swell, it’s my flock that suffers.”

We walked slowly up the path. This was not like walking with Baltazar, who moved with a pace that brought us swiftly through the garden. Ra moved as languidly as the fat fish we had watched in the pond. I looked at the red flowers, remembering once again that moment—Father at the door of our little house, a flower pinned to his fine clothes, Mother speaking with him, crying, and me watching, confused and unknowing.

Ra said, “I will speak plainly. I fear this knot of vice that reaches out for Boston. Buffalo is in turmoil. There is fighting in the streets; the people turn on each other. The city is without a Griid-suit, and Perdinger runs riot in the wilds. I would not see the same fate befall my charge. But I cannot act openly. Sending soldiers to destroy the heretics would not only be an act of war against Buffalo, it would also attract the ire of the Archbishop himself. I cannot act on the territory of another Bishop.”

I understood him now. "Officially, you mean."

Ra nodded. “Your next Griid-train is to Buffalo, is it not?”

My eyes widened. It was indeed. I suddenly realized that this meeting might not have been the product of my own machinations at all.

Ra said, “It so happens that your route to Buffalo could take you within a few miles of the den of lies I speak of.”

I said, “You want me to destroy it?”

He replied, “Burn it to the ground. Kill the heathens.”

“And if I do, you’ll pardon Leona?”

He said, “Banish. We will banish her, as you suggested. There can be no pardoning. But it can make a good story: the Sword of Boston doing penance for a sinner to alleviate her crimes. The people will love it. And you’ll gain levels. The Green Men have their own resources; you’ll meet a challenge if you go there.”

We walked a little further. I detested this. Killing fiends cost me nothing, but the thought of killing men again was not something I had an appetite for. But I thought of Perdinger, and the necessity of putting him out of his misery—for his own good and the good of the land. He was out there now, killing and plundering for reasons unknown. It had been the Green Men that drove him to it. Buffalo suffered under their influence.

“I’ll do it then,” I said. “I’ll tear out the nest.”

Ra nodded happily. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “And the donation. You can still make the donation.”