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By Root 1486 0

(he had told that priestess his name, after all) or some other matter connected with the fact that the Tarrants had been avid Church supporters for longer than most families had even been in existence. But to take refuge in such a story now, no matter how tempting, was to be hopelessly naive. Calesta had brought him to Jaggonath, and had ordered him to attend services here. Now, less than two weeks after he had begun to establish a pattern of regular attendance, the single most important man in the Eastern Autarchy had asked him to come here for a private interview. Obviously it had something to do with Calesta’s plan. What he couldn’t figure out was why the demon hadn’t given him some kind of guidance—what he should say, how he should act—or even some warning that this might happen.

The door at the far end of the chamber opened suddenly; startled, he quickly brushed his hair back in place and turned to face it. The servant who had brought him here smiled pleasantly and told him, “He’ll see you now.” She held the door wide for him as he passed through it, and then shut it quietly behind him. She was a pretty thing, and ordinarily he might have regretted that he had no chance to make her acquaintance. Now, however, his focus was elsewhere.

The Patriarch had been sick, it was said, struck down for a day and a night with a malady so serious that they had thought he might die. The harsh notes of illness still echoed in his flesh, clearly enough that even Andrys, a stranger, could see it. Yet beneath that the man was undeniably powerful, with a physical presence that belied his years and an aura of dignity that no sickness could compromise. He looked like what a Patriarch should look like, Andrys thought: a leader of men, a spokesman of God. Never before had he been in a presence that so totally defined itself.

With a faint smile of greeting the Holy Father moved toward him, and suddenly Andrys realized that he had no idea how one was supposed to greet such a personage. Did you bow, or maybe kneel, or just nod and mutter something suitably acquiescent? Samiel would have known what to do, or Betrise, but he had no idea. He was acutely aware of his own lack of religious background as the Patriarch studied him, nodded, and then deliberately offered a hand. Thank God. He shook it, and the man’s firm grip lent him newfound strength. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

“Mer Tarrant. I’m glad you could come.”

“The honor is mine, Your Holiness.” Now that the first awful moment was over with, some bit of his accustomed ease was coming back to him. “Although it was a bit unexpected, I must admit.”

The Patriarch’s eyes—a startling blue, as bright and clear as sapphires—fixed on him with unnerving intensity. For a brief moment he had the impression that not only his physical person was being judged, but his very soul. At last, after what seemed like an eternity, the man turned away and gestured toward a pair of chairs arranged beside a window. “Please,” he said. “Will you join me?”

He nodded, and hoped the motion looked natural. He felt like a bug pinned to a dissection board when the Patriarch looked at him, and he hoped those piercing eyes would find other things to focus on while they spoke. The chairs, heavily upholstered, flanked a small table outfitted with a plate of confections, crystal glasses, and a chilled pitcher. What on Erna did this man want with him, that he had taken such obvious trouble to set up an environment conducive to casual conversation?

The pitcher apparently contained a light wine, and he accepted a glass of it gratefully, glad to have an object to hold in his hands, another focus for his attention. The wine was cold and sweet and delicate in flavor; not a vintage that he recognized, but clearly an expensive one. As Andrys looked around the chamber, taking in its paintings and its rugs and its gold-embossed books, he realized that for the first time he was seeing the Church as his ancestors had known it—rich, proud, and timeless.

“It’s rare we have guests from so far away,” the Patriarch said.