The Curse of Chalion - Lois McMaster Bujold [108]
He glanced up to find Umegat regarding him thoughtfully. The Roknari inquired politely, “And how are you feeling today?”
“Better this afternoon than this morning.” He added a little reluctantly, “Better than yesterday.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Not yet. Later, perhaps.” He rubbed a hand over his beard. “What’s happening out there?”
Umegat sat back and shrugged. “Chancellor dy Jironal, finding no candidates in the city, has ridden out of Cardegoss in search of the corpse of his brother’s murderer and any confederates left alive.”
“I trust he will not seize some innocent in error.”
“An experienced Inquirer from the Temple rides with him, which should suffice to prevent such mistakes.”
Cazaril digested this. After a moment, Umegat added, “Also, a faction in the military order of the Daughter’s house has sent couriers riding out to all its lord dedicats, calling them to a general council. They mean not to allow Roya Orico to foist another commander like Lord Dondo onto them.”
“How should they defy him? Revolt?”
Umegat hastily waved away this treasonable suggestion. “Certainly not. Petition. Request.”
“Mm. But I thought they protested last time, to no avail. Dy Jironal will not be wanting to let control of that order slip from his hands.”
“The military order is backed by the whole of its house, this time.”
“And, ah…what have you been doing today?”
“Praying for guidance.”
“And did you get an answer?”
Umegat smiled ambiguously at him. “Perhaps.”
Cazaril considered for a moment how best to phrase his next remark. “Interesting gossip you’re privy to. I take it, then, that it would now be redundant for me to go down to the temple and confess to Archdivine Mendenal for Dondo’s murder?”
Umegat’s brows went up. “I suppose,” he said after a moment, “that it should not surprise me that the Lady of Spring has chosen a sharp-edged tool.”
“You are a divine, a trained Inquirer. I didn’t imagine you could, or would, evade your oaths and disciplines. You immobilized me to give yourself time to report, and confer.” Cazaril hesitated. “That I am not presently under arrest should tell me…something about that conference, but I’m not at all sure what.”
Umegat studied his hands, spread on his knees. “As a divine, I defer to my superiors. As a saint, I answer to my god. Alone. If He trusts my judgment, so perforce must I. And so must my superiors.” He looked up, and now his gaze was unsettlingly direct. “That the goddess has set your feet on some journey on her behalf—courier—is abundantly plain from Her hour-by-hour preservation of your life. The Temple is at…not your service, but Hers. I think I can promise you, none shall interfere with you.”
Cazaril was stung into a wail. “But what am I supposed to be doing?”
Umegat’s voice grew almost apologetic. “Speaking just from my own experience, I would surmise—your daily duties as they come to you.”
“That’s not very helpful.”
“Yes. I know.” Umegat’s lips twitched in a dry humor. “So the gods humble the would-be wise, I think.” He added after a moment, “Speaking of daily duties, I must return now to mine. Orico is unwell today. Feel free to visit the menagerie anytime you are so moved, my lord dy Cazaril.”
“Wait—” Cazaril held out a hand as Umegat rose. “Can you tell me—does Orico know of the miracle of the menagerie? Does he understand—does he even know he is accursed? I’ll swear Iselle knows naught of it, nor Teidez.” Royina Ista, on the other hand… “Or does the roya just know he feels better for contact with his animals?”
Umegat gave a little nod. “Orico knows. His father Ias told him, on his deathbed. The Temple has made many secret trials to break this curse. The menagerie is the only one that has seemed to do any good.”
“And what of the Dowager Royina Ista? Is she shadowed like Sara?”
Umegat tugged his queue and frowned