A House of Cards Read online

  “He had little choice, I’m afraid. Ordinal Isrulian ordered him to.”

  “What’s an Ordinal doing at Exidgeon?”

  “A very good question, but before we ask it, I must warn you—aiding a suspected heretic can be a very dangerous thing. Are you willing to take the risk?”

  “Don’t ridiculous. We’ll get this straightened out.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. I doubt Isrulian would be so bold without support.”

  “Surely His Primacy won’t tolerate such insubordination.”

  “Zachary…my brother is dying.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “I would not have mentioned it except to impress upon you that we cannot rely on his aid in this. Are you still sure you want to help?”

  In all their years of friendship, Hepplewhite had never known the Monsignor to be this defeatist—the situation was clearly dire. And yet, Hepplewhite’s choice was clear. “What kind of friend would I be if I turned my back now?”

  “A far safer one.”

  “Stop with the melodrama. How can I help?”

  “I’ll need a safe place to work. Our affiliation is well known here, so it shouldn’t be anyplace obviously connected with you.”

  “If Isrulian has accused you of heresy, shouldn’t we get you off campus entirely?”

  “That may no longer be an option. A battalion of Inquisitors will arrive at Exidgeon any minute now. Once Isrulian reaches them, I’ll have no chance of getting past.”

  “Can you get to them first?”

  “Even if I did, Isrulian technically outranks me, and the attack on Dexter Hall has him in a frenzy.”

  “How does he know heretics were responsible?”

  The Monsignor chuckled, but his expression remained grim. “I suppose I should have let you go look. A dome of darkness covers the whole front of the building. They couldn’t have been more obvious about it if they’d posted signs.”

  “I thought you said they’d set it on fire.”

  “They did that, too. The darkness is no doubt making the flames extraordinarily difficult to fight.”

  “How did you escape?”

  “Thurman’s assistant Cartier risked himself to release both Chancellor Wiggins and me. Without him, we would have died.”

  “They arrested the Chancellor?”

  “Isrulian was trying to make the case that the Chancellor and I were colluding to cover up the heresy. Apparently, he got the Chancellor to say things that could be twisted to support such a theory.”

  “Where was Thurman while all this was happening?”

  “He’d already left. If I understood Cartier correctly, Thurman went to inform my brother of Isrulian’s treachery. Cartier has assumed nominal control of the Inquisition, but no doubt while Isrulian remains, he’ll be pulling the strings.”

  “What does Isrulian hope to gain?”

  The Monsignor paused. “I’m not sure. Isrulian has never been a fan of my brother’s policies, or mine for that matter. I could see him wanting to discredit me to embarrass my brother, but with my brother dying, I don’t see how he benefits. And if my brother finds out with enough time to spare, Isrulian stands to lose quite a bit.”

  Hepplewhite raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps he’s trying to discredit you to keep you from assuming the Primacy in your brother’s place.”

  “But I have no desire to be Primal. Even if I did, given the current Nine, I’d never muster the votes.”

  “Does Isrulian know that?”

  The Monsignor frowned thoughtfully. “You may have a point.”

  A knock on the door caused both men to jump. “Professor Hepplewhite? Are you there?”

  Dona’s mother poked her head in. “I do hope we’re not interrupting anything, but this will only take a minute.”

  . . . . .

  The mood was bleak in the fraternity’s basement as Reston’s compatriots awaited his return. The unrelenting throb of the bell in the clock tower hammered home the inevitability of the Inquisitorial horrors soon to be unleashed upon their little Society in self-righteous defense of incontrovertible truth. Even Tamry was taciturn.

  Dona’s thoughts kept returning to the shambles of their plan, which had seemed so promising just a few minutes before. But in the face of such a brazen attack, regardless of any influence they might have over Thurman, the Inquisition would have no politically viable option other than to bring the heretics to justice. And just who were these heretics anyway? Did it even matter? After all, what could any genuine heretic possibly stand to gain from an all-out attack on the University? Was Jonas right? Could Michlos have been playing her?

  She shook her head. What was she thinking? Michlos had been instrumental in convincing Princess Celeste, ruler of the island that held both the Artists’ Colony and Ranselard Keep, to join their cause. Had Michlos simply wanted to stir up trouble, he wouldn’t have bothered with Celeste—he would have attacked the Inquisition yesterday and saved himself the effort. It had to be someone else. Everson? That didn’t make sense either—he had as much to lose as the rest of them. But who else was there? She couldn’t think of anyone who stood to gain from inciting an Inquisition. That is…unless Jonas was right—an enforcer might be able to use such an attack to get the Inquisition to do his dirty work by eliminating Reston’s problematic little group in one fell swoop. Once they’d been dealt with, the Inquisition would leave, and the Enforcer’s precious status quo would be maintained.

  “Jonas?” she asked. “How many Enforcers, other than Michlos, would you expect there to be in a city like Trifienne?”

  “I have no idea. That’s not something they’d advertise.”

  “But, more than one?”

  “It would probably depend on demand.”

  “But more than one is possible, and maybe even likely, right?”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “What are you getting at?”

  “Well, if, as you say, an Enforcer would benefit from bringing the Inquisition down on us, and if there exists more than one Enforcer in Trifienne, then any one of them could have committed the attack.”

  “Except that Michlos had knowledge, motive, and opportunity—there’s no need to invent anyone else.”

  “So, we are to imagine there may be dozens of other Enforcers out there, all of whom, except for Michlos, are just sitting idle. Why couldn’t our attacker be any one of those others?”

  Jonas squinted as he parsed her theory. “Or maybe they’re all working under Michlos’s direction.”

  “I doubt that very much—not when working together means that catching one is the same as catching them all.”

  “All right, I admit it’s possible,” Jonas said. “Just not likely, particularly since the whole point of having enforcers is to avoid Inquisitions.”

  “While we might not agree that Michlos is responsible, I’ll grant you that an Enforcer would have quite a bit to gain, provided the Inquisition remains contained at the University.”

  Jonas packed his pipe with tobacco from a small pouch. “For the sake of argument, let’s say we agree. So what?”

  “Because once we get past who did it, we can start to focus on what we should do about it.”

  Jonas tamped the tobacco with his thumb. “I’m open to suggestions.”

  Amberton shifted uncomfortably, his eyes fixed on Jonas’s pipe.

  “For one thing,” Dona said. “The old plan will have to be scrapped.”

  Jonas produced a box of thin wooden sticks. “Obviously.”

  “That leaves two possibilities. We can either try to convince them to abandon the Inquisition, which seems pretty unlikely given the circumstances—”

  Jonas lit a stick in a nearby kerosene lamp. “Or?”

  Amberton could contain himself no longer. “You aren’t actually planning to smoke that thing, are you?”

  Jonas applied the flaming stick to the tobacco. “I appreciate your concern. Not to worry though—I don’t actually inhale.”

 
Amberton glared, shook out his handkerchief, and held it over his nose.

  “Or,” Dona said, “we can try to convince them that their attacker has left.”

  “And how do we do that? We don’t even agree on who the attacker was.”

  “No, but we can agree on at least one of his signature techniques.”

  Tamry interjected. “Are you suggesting we use Phrendonic Heresy as bait?”

  Amberton snorted through his kerchief. “More madness.”

  “I don’t see what we have to lose,” Dona said. “The Inquisition knows there’s at least one heretic on campus. If we do nothing, they’ll meticulously interrogate the entire University. If, on the other hand, we can convince them that their heretic is escaping, they’ll have little choice but to pursue. It might at least buy us a chance to disappear into Trifienne instead of simply waiting here for them to arrive with the thumbscrews.”

  Tamry eyed her skeptically. “As a plan, it seems a wee bit sparse on detail.”

  “That’s deliberate. I don’t yet know enough to maximize our advantage.”

  “Advantage?” Amberton spat. “Wasn’t it you who pointed out they have an army practically on our doorstep?”

  “The advantage of heresy. Once I’m properly briefed on our potential, I’ll be happy to supply the details.”

  Amberton was so disturbed by the suggestion he dropped his hanky. “Preposterous. We can’t use heresy to fight the Church—we’ll be crushed.”

  “That’s why we must use it to mislead instead.”

  The chamber’s door rattled, followed by a muffled curse.

  “Who is it?” Jonas called out.

  “It’s me, Reston. Who locked the door?”

  “One second.” Jonas rolled up his sleeves and fussed at the lock. A moment later it clicked, and the door swung open. “Sorry—I didn’t know if it was you or the Inquisition.”

  “What did you find out?” Dona asked.

  Reston looked grim. “The good news is I managed to eliminate the dome, and the fire is under control.”

  “And the bad news?”

  “They’ve arrived. Now that the fire’s out, I shudder to think where all those Inquisitors will be turning their attention next.”

  Chapter Three

  Relative Intelligence

  Alexi headed for Everson’s office, his mind racing. Could Michlos have set them up? He couldn’t fathom having been so completely wrong about someone, but try as he might, he couldn’t shake the seed of doubt Jonas had planted. No one else had motive. Everson may have had opportunity, but Alexi couldn’t imagine he’d want any part of stirring up the Inquisition that way. Hijacking Dona’s carriage in an attempt to steal Reston’s heretical spellbook was one thing—directly attacking the Inquisition was something else entirely.

  He’d hoped to approach Everson’s office discreetly, but the warning bell made that almost impossible. Entire classes had emerged from classrooms all over campus to see what the noise was about. At least the spectacle at the gate prevented anyone from focusing attention on him. Everson’s office building was no exception. Most of the building’s occupants stood on the lawn gaping at the dome and smoke. To his delight, Everson was among them, though Alexi almost hadn’t recognized him—Everson’s arm was in a sling, and he wore a large bandage across one side of his face. Unlike the puzzled expressions of the others, Everson’s was one of shock and dread.

  Alexi sidled his way toward the building, doing his best to keep out of sight of his quarry. He was so fixated on Everson that he was startled by a tug on his arm from one of the ladies carrying the crude sign he’d been using to shield himself from Everson’s view.

  “Excuse me, young man,” the lady said. “I’m Mrs. Muscany, this is Mrs. Curtsik, and that’s Mrs. Temrich. We were wondering if you happened to know Miss Dona Merinne, and whether you may have seen her recently?”

  Surprised, it took him a moment to register who was asking, and several more to ponder why this woman might want to know in the first place. In the meantime, the two other ladies closed ranks on him.

  “He’s probably hard of hearing,” Mrs. Curtsik said. “That seems to be going around lately.”

  “It’s no wonder he didn’t hear you, the way you mumbled it,” Mrs. Temrich said. “If you’re going to ask, then ask. Coy is a tactic better suited to finding a husband than a truant. Here, allow me.” She grabbed the sign, waved it in front of Alexi’s face, and shouted “Hey, Mister. Have you seen Dona Merinne lately?”

  Everson’s head whipped around. Alexi dodged behind the sign, keeping his fingers crossed he hadn’t been recognized.

  “Now you’ve gone and startled him,” Mrs. Curtsik said. “Young man, we’re terribly sorry. For goodness’ sake, Laverne, will you please stop threatening the poor lad with that sign?”

  “No, she’s fine. Really,” Alexi said, terrified she might take the sign away. “In fact, let’s have a closer look at it.”

  In large block letters, the ladies had spelled out “MISSING.” Underneath, Dona’s name appeared in bright red, with a fairly accurate description, a plea for help, and a rough map to the campus chapel. A reward was offered, along with what appeared to be an editorial afterthought: One fresh apple pie every week for three full months, courtesy of Mrs. Laverne Temrich.

  “Apple pie?” Alexi asked.

  “I told you not to put that there,” Mrs. Muscany said.

  “It got his attention, didn’t it?” Mrs. Temrich retorted.

  Mrs. Curtsik turned to Alexi. “Just ignore them.”

  “I heard that,” Mrs. Temrich said.

  Mrs. Curtsik sighed. “Of all things, that, she hears.”

  “Sorry ladies,” Alexi interrupted. “But as tempting as that reward is, I can’t say I’ve seen her.”

  Craning his neck to peer around the sign, Alexi realized that Everson was no longer standing on the lawn in front of the building. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a window open in the office building. At first, he was relieved to make out Everson’s profile hovering there, but then realized he’d been spotted.

  “I’m sorry, but I really need to go.” He turned, intending a mad dash for the fraternity. He made it only three steps before his consciousness slipped away.

  . . . . .

  Four observers watched from a rise overlooking the surrounding countryside. In the distance, the road from Trifienne wended through the golds, reds, and browns of autumn, up the ramp, and through the great University gates. Beyond those gates, a plume of dark smoke still drifted into the late-afternoon sky. Even from this distance, the ancient ramp, which served as Exidgeon’s sole access to the outside world, seethed with activity. Antlike figures disappeared row by row through the gates. When the ramp was empty, the gates, which had stood open for more than a generation, ground slowly closed.

  The Crown Prince, in glinting battlegear atop his black steed, wore his displeasure like a shroud.

  “My apologies, Sire,” Constable Connelly said from astride his bay roan. “We only found out about this force late last night. There just wasn’t enough time to raise the militia and intercept them before they made it to the college. We didn’t even know that was their goal until a few hours ago.”

  The Crown Prince rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Captain Dunsmore, what are our chances of evicting them by force?”

  The third observer shifted in his saddle. “Given a little more time to muster, we will greatly outnumber them, but their occupation of the University gives them a tremendous defensive advantage. We know from the successful campaign against the Chervillians that taking the fortress is possible, but only through a protracted siege.”

  “Do we have any information on the nature of the fire?”

  “We don’t,” Connelly said. “The Inquisition force cut off our ability to investigate.”

  “Suggestions, gentlemen? How would you deal with these interlopers?”

  Dunsmore responded first. “We have the upper hand. While a sie
ge would be long and costly, we would ultimately prevail. Despite the cost, we can’t afford to meet such tests of your sovereignty with weakness or equivocation. Use the diplomats, but only to convey our view that they are trespassers who must immediately and unconditionally vacate.”

  “And if they call our bluff?”

  “I did not suggest it as a bluff, Sire. I would make good on the threat. Lay siege, but give them frequent opportunities to surrender their arms and return whence they came. It shouldn’t take them long to see the futility of their position.”

  “Constable? Do you concur?”

  The Constable shook his head. “I see the situation as more nuanced. If this were an isolated band of brigands, I might be persuaded, but this force carries the imprimatur of the Church. Not only could the Church send reinforcements in the event of a siege, but also many of our men would be hard-pressed to raise a hand against men of the cloth. In the worst-case scenario, the Church might turn to other kingdoms for aid. Until we know more, I would treat them as unsophisticated foreign diplomats instead of an invasion force. Find out what they want, and see whether we can facilitate it. Perhaps the whole situation can be resolved without resort to force. After all, it’s only been a few days since Father Cartier came to me requesting the Crown’s assistance in tracking down the brothel heretics.”

  The Crown Prince eyed the Constable skeptically. “Doesn’t that suggest this force may be gathering as the first prong of a full-scale Inquisition to be launched on Trifienne?”

  “I can’t rule it out, but I’d hate to assume it and be wrong.”

  The Crown Prince turned to the fourth observer. “Beloved? Your opinion?”

  The Crown Princess patted the neck of her restless white mare. “I believe our greatest responsibility lies with the citizens unlawfully imprisoned at the hands of the Inquisition. Whatever our approach, it must ensure their welfare. My heart tells me we must act swiftly: Too much diplomacy would permit the Inquisition to consolidate their position, but too great a show of force may encourage them to use our citizens as hostages. It’s a delicate balance, and I would need more information to devise a detailed plan.”