The Tyranny of the Night

32. Shippen and the Toe

Bishop LeCroes settled beside Brother Candle. Brother Candle was watching the sun set behind a vague hint of distant indigo peaks. He had his back against an almond tree, the vanguard of a grove. Almonds had come to Shippen with the Praman invaders.

The sun's lower limb squashed down on the far hills, a bloated, distorted vermilion egg that the eye could suffer for moments at a time.

Color flew round the sky as though slung from the palette of a mad artiste god. Shippen folk said that was because of a haze vented by a somnolent volcano off to the north.

LeCroes said, "Sorry to bother you. I wanted you to know. The rumors are true. King Peter will cross over to the mainland."

Brother Candle asked, "Is that Sublime's idea?"

"You kidding? Once this war ends Sublime will be as nervous about Peter as he is about the Emperor."

"Maybe the Emperor suggested the move."

"Peter is clever enough to come up with it on his own."

Brother Candle quickly saw why Peter would make this move.

It would give him a foothold on the mainland and enhance his reputation in Firaldia, where he was not yet well known. And it would establish forces friendly to the End of Connec behind the Patriarch should Sublime decide to follow a crusade against Calzir with another against the Connec. At little cost in lives and treasure Peter would triple the lands he held and make Navaya the strongest Chaldarean realm in the west.

Brother Candle had to admire King Peter. The man had foreseen vast opportunities before he decided to transport and support the forces Duke Tormond pledged to Sublime. Who might have done so at Isabeth's urging.

Sublime must be in a tight place now, desperately unable to seize and retain those expanded temporal powers that all Brothen Patriarchs coveted.

Brother Candle ascended to Perfection without losing his cynicism and skepticism. The sad truth was, none of the last dozen Brothen Patriarchs had shown much regard for their spiritual mission. And few had shown much competence in the political lists, either.

"I think I see where this will end up."

"And that would be where?"

"Are you firm in your allegiance to Immaculate?"

"Absolutely! He's the only legitimate …"

LeCroes's tight tone and evasive eye told Brother Candle that he had been romanced by Sublime's agents and had not yet rejected them.

"Immaculate is likely to be the last Viscesment Patriarch."

"Excuse me?"

"It's simple. Right or wrong, Viscesment no longer claims many hearts. The holdouts have started making deals so they don't suffer when Immaculate goes away. I'll bet there's no election when he does."

Brother Candle would be brokenhearted, too. A Church divided, feuding with itself, had no energy left to persecute those who did not conform to Episcopal doctrine.

LeCroes bowed his head. "It's true. The Brothens outlasted us. The struggle was doomed from the start, though. Worthy VI should've begged the Emperor for help right away."

Would he have received any? There had been little love between Worthy and Voromund or Spinomund, whoever the Emperor was back then.

Worthy had been spineless. History called him Worthy the Coward. But even determined backing by the Brotherhood of War could not have convinced the Brothen mob that their natural rights had not been usurped.

"Lost in my thoughts," Brother Candle said, perhaps to the almond trees, because Bishop LeCroes had gone. Darkness was closing in. "Your Church is founded on a bedrock of corruption. Yet you're baffled when folk seek a purer way.”

Brother Candle sighed, calmed himself. Those who chose the Path understood corruption as native to the human condition. One had to avoid condemnation, which was not constructive. One had to provide an example. One had to demonstrate that corruption was wicked and the product of an evil imagination.

COUNT RAYMONE SPOKE TO A GATHERING OF CONNECTEN OFficers and hangers-on, including Brother Candle and the chaplains. "King Peter has a solid rapport with his Plataduran allies. They have sources in Calzir. Except for the hardheads at al-Khazen, the Calzirans are ready to quit. They want to get connected with a Chaldarean leader who will respect and tolerate their peculiar beliefs, King Peter. Grand champion of the Chaldarean Reconquest."

Pramans from Platadura and the Terliagan Littoral made polite sounds of approval.

Count Raymone continued, "Emissaries from several towns in the mainland region called the Toe have run the blockade to come beg Peter to accept their surrender before the Patriarch reaches them."

Brother Candle wrestled his natural cynicism. The Patriarch and Church were, indeed, the last people you wanted replacing the tyrants you had always known.

The mainlander envoys did not appeal to Count Raymone. Connectens had become supporting characters in King Peter's passion play.

An excellent eventuation, too, Brother Candle believed. Peter might yet negate Sublime's insanity. He might see the world around the Mother Sea introduced to an era of peace – should Sublime enjoy the great good fortune of being reunited with his creator.

The Shippen adventure had helped Raymone Garete mature. He had ceased to be all rage and mindless action. The lesson Raymone had taken to heart was patience. Because in Shippen, once the invaders had become established, there was nothing to do but wait.

TWENTY-TWO SHIPS, INCLUDING SEVERAL SMALL COASTERS from Shippen, slipped into the Toe ports of Scarlene and Snucco. The former lay farthest west and was a fishing village without boats. The other was a small port accustomed to unloading agricultural products sent over from Shippen. There was a noteworthy absence of ships in that harbor, too. The collaborators who had come to Shippen insisted that had nothing to do with the recent unpleasantnesses suffered by the peoples of Chaldarean Firaldia. Only evil coincidence, that was all it was.

There was no resistance. Those who wanted to fight had gone off to the hosting at al-Khazen, where they planned to crush the crusaders once they were sick and starving in the cold and snow.

The Connecten and Direcians from Shippen encountered only those complications of conquest posed by distance and numbers. Towns surrendered as fast as the invaders could hike.

King Peter was restrained only by the fact that he did not have troops sufficient to garrison all the territories willing to throw themselves at his feet. He considered enlisting Calzirans but had no money to pay them.

Moving boldly, King Peter and Count Raymone overran two-thirds of what Patriarchal forces expected to occupy after al-Khazen's fall. Peter's army pushed east along the southern coast until his troops encountered Hansel's coming westward.

For Brother Candle it happened dizzyingly fast. By midwinter unconquered mainland Calzir had been reduced to a fifth of its original territory, mostly around al-Khazen. Enclaves existed at al-Healta and al-Stikla, as well. Warships from Dateon and Apareon blockaded both ports. Patriarchal troops were within sight of al-Khazen, on its northern side.

Brother Candle found a place behind the captains and generals during a session about strategy for the endgame. He learned that Hansel was outraged by King Peter's opportunism and dramatic, nearly bloodless success.

Sublime was worse.

Al-Khazen showed no inclination to surrender. The occasional prisoner taken suggested that the city's commanders did not lack confidence in their ultimate triumph.

Brother Candle observed, ministered to those of his own faith, and kept quiet. He nursed an abiding dread that the crusaders had been led artfully into an huge ambush. Someday, sooner than later, the Adversary's most intimate and beloved minions would leap forth.

Unexpectedly, never noticing the process, Brother Candle had been seduced into the sin of despair. He abjured it the moment he recognized it. It terrified him. But, for a long time, he could not conquer it. And mere was no other Perfect there to guide him through the slough.

He became so uncertain of himself and his faith that he began to contemplate ending all earthly pain.