Prince of Lies - James Lowder [85]
The carriage lurched to a stop, as it had in a dozen other crowded parts of the city, and Xeno Mirrormane rose to his feet. Hair silver-white and tangled, eyes narrowed with smug satisfaction, the patriarch looked out over the marketplace. "Lord Cyric has found it in his heart to grant Zhentil Keep the honor of becoming his residence in the mortal realms," Xeno crowed. "Because of this great honor, today has been declared a high holy day in the city. All citizens are free from taxes until sunset."
An enthusiastic and sincere cheer rang out from the crowd, lasting almost as long as the parade of beasts had taken to stagger through the market.
Finally Xeno spread his arms wide, as if to embrace the throng. "Know, then, that we must show our appreciation by declaring theChurchofCyricthe only true spiritual body in the city. None of the pretender gods may receive worship from our homes or our temples, and all holy symbols and effigies devoted to them are to be considered contraband. Possession of such items after sundown this day will be construed as heresy against the church, bringing with it the punishment prescribed by law. All holdings of said heretical churches are now property of the city-state."
Xeno shared the carriage with the newly appointed lord of the Keep, who struggled now to his feet. His painfully thin face peeked out from a furred hood. "What the g-good p-patriarch says is the t-truth," he stammered, gesturing at the commoners with a small toy soldier. "Let all in my city know that Lord Cyric himself has d-declared our cause j-just!"
"Thank you, Ygway," Xeno said, rudely pushing the man back to the seat. "Be still, now. We wouldn't want you to tire yourself out."
In reply, the young man smiled stupidly and slouched down. He took up the rest of his toy army and recommenced the mock battle for the cushioned seat opposite him.
The crowded marketplace was now very nearly silent, save for the occasional tinny sound of discarded holy symbols dropping to the cobbles. Most present had lived through the scourging of Bane's image from the Keep after the Time of Troubles, but this was something very different. Cyric had replaced Bane as Lord of Strife. The gods now declared heretical still held court in the heavens, still held sway over the mortal realms.
Vrakk stood in a sea of shocked human faces, carefully taking stock of the patriarch and the addle-brained nobleman at his side. With the disappearance of Lord Chess a tenday past, the church had seized control of the city government, installing Ygway Mirrormane as Zhentil Keep's lord. Insanity ran in the Mirrormane family, or so the rumors said. After watching Xeno and his drooling, twitching nephew in action, Vrakk would disagree. It galloped like a Tuigan pony with its tail on fire.
"Know, too," Xeno announced, "that all travel from the city has been suspended, unless approved by both the church and the government. These restrictions will remain in effect until Lord Cyric declares the inquisition at an end."
With that, the patriarch gestured to his driver. His carriage lurched ahead – only to stop a moment later as a pile of dung was cleared from its path. Vrakk shook his head; the priests hadn't been bright enough to put the elephants at the rear of the procession.
A swarm of church novitiates, Cyric's holy symbol tattooed upon their foreheads, set upon the marketplace in the wake of the parade. They gathered up the discarded holy symbols, as well as any merchandise that might be ornamented with the newly contraband images. Other priests posted broadsheets repeating Xeno's proclamation or scanned the crowd for anyone overly distraught by the announcements. Such unseemly sorrow could only come from a heretic.
Vrakk paid the clerics little attention as he continued his patrol of the small market. The courtyard held a variety of stalls. Vendors hawked