C f bentley, p.32
C. F. Bentley, page 32
“Good advice,” Jake whispered into Sissy’s ear. “This discussion should be conducted in private.”
“No, it shouldn’t be kept private,” Bevan, one of Marissa’s twins, announced to the crowd. “The world needs to know that High Priest Gregor prefers a Lood as his High Priestess to a woman who was born to the Temple, raised and educated to the Temple, and who has achieved a sacred seven times seven years.”
“My Laudae,” Guilliam stepped up behind Penelope. His proprietary hand on her waist suggested a long intimacy that surprised Sissy. “My Laudae, if confidence in the Temple is shaken by this encounter, then a major alteration has occurred. She will truly be the harbinger of change. Of chaos. She will have won and you lost. Irrevocably.”
Penelope stood for a long moment her mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
Sissy breathed deeply. She had never doubted that Guilliam ran the day-to-day events of the Temple. Now, she realized he was much more. He was the anchor around which that life in the Temple revolved. He maintained a solid column of stability and whispered wisdom where it was needed, when it was needed. The rest of them merely reacted to his prodding.
She found humor there. For all of Penelope’s and Gregor’s pretensions, Guilliam was the true power here.
If Guilliam knew so much, then he probably could open the High Altar without construction tools or damaging the crystal. What else did he know and keep secret?
She should have gone to him first.
Penelope whirled about and stalked back through the tunnel toward the Temple interior with Lukan and Bevan following in her wake.
“We will discuss this in Council Chamber,” Bevan called from the archway that framed his tall figure majestically.
“Now is the time to speak to the HC,” Jake whispered.
Sissy almost laughed. As Guilliam advised and manipulated Gregor and Penelope, so Jake did the same for her. And Marissa’s sons advised their mother.
“Must I remind the High Council that our meetings are private, and outsiders are forbidden to speak?” Sissy said. She fixed Laud Gregor and Lady Marissa with a fierce gaze. “Laudae Penelope and Lady Marissa’s sons are not members of the High Council.”
“Neither is your bodyguard.” Lady Marissa looked at Jake as if she feared him. Her right eye twitched and she drew her right hand into a tight fist.
Murmurs of discontent whisked through the crowd beyond the fence like a whirlwind. A handheld camera flashed again and again.
“My bodyguard does not speak in Council. He enters the chamber only to ensure my safety. If you will guarantee with your life that no harm comes to me during the meetings, he will remain outside the doors.” Sissy tried hard to keep her chin from trembling in fear. Jake had reminded her often that only a Noble could afford a large, dark blue car and throw an illegal concussion grenade from it.
The crowd pressed closer to the fence. Ghoulish gawkers feeding on the negative emotions, or concerned onlookers ready to defend her?
“My Lords and Ladies, Lauds and Laudaes, this is not the time or place—” Gregor insisted. With a gesture he began herding them all back toward the tunnel. Guilliam became his sheepdog standing behind the various factions and pressing them in the correct direction.
“Harmony bless you, Laudae Sissy!” someone shouted from the depths of the crowd.
“Keep her safe, Military, or answer to us!”
Shouts of agreement rose and echoed against the crystal columns. “Sissy! Our Sissy!” The noise filled the courtyard more completely than a dozen glass wands chiming against the altar crystals.
Then a new shout erupted from the front of the crowd. “Show us the tablets!”
Jake paced nervously before the entrance to the HC Chamber. Penelope sat in a thronelike chair three meters down the corridor. She twitched and fidgeted as if lasers pricked her butt. Was she in trouble for working with the HC against Sissy? Or for refusing to do so any longer? And what had changed her mind?
He didn’t even know if he was supposed to address her as Laudae anymore. Not that he dared not use the title if he spoke to her.
She’d tried to enter the chamber with the rest of the HC. A single glare from Gregor to Guilliam and the assistant had gently touched her arm and her waist to escort her to the throne.
Then Guilliam had disappeared down a side corridor shortly thereafter.
Lady Marissa’s sons were nowhere in sight. So were they banished or not in trouble at all?
For that matter, why did any of the HC need assistants to speak for them? Probably so no one of them would take the blame if their plots backfired.
Too many players. Not enough intel.
The intimacy of Guilliam’s touch upon Penelope had not escaped Jake.
Right now, he was more concerned with Sissy than the convoluted relationships. He heard murmurs and shouts through the thick doors. All undecipherable. At least the High Priestess had donned her elaborate crystal headdress before making a grand entrance into the chamber. She needed to assert her authority with these martinets.
If only he had a simple handheld computer, he’d sensitize the internal receivers and listen remotely.
Penelope looked impatiently down the side passage Guilliam had taken. Hmmm.
Guilliam knew of back tunnels and secret rooms.
He might very well have sophisticated listening devices planted in every room. Including the HC Chamber.
If Gregor had access to the listening post in space that intercepted messages through the CSS, then it stood to reason that his assistant had access to similar ground-based equipment.
The continuation of calm murmurs assured him that the discussion inside wasn’t about to explode into violence. He decided to explore a bit and find Guilliam.
He lengthened his route of pacing. No sense in alerting Penelope of his intent.
“You won’t find him,” she said bitterly as he made his third pass. One more and he’d include the side corridor as a natural extension of his path.
“I beg your pardon, Laudae?” He opened his eyes wide, like Sissy did, trying to appear innocent.
“We’ve all tried to follow Gil, looking for his observation post. He just disappears.” She shrugged and went back to her fidgeting.
“Secret passages?” Jake asked, again trying for innocence. He knew damn well how to find at least one of them. Maybe others.
“Probably. The place is a weasel’s nest.”
“Intriguing.” Jake sauntered down the old hallway. Now he knew what to look for. He’d find Guilliam come vacuum or radiation. Or both.
The corridor narrowed as it skirted behind the HC Chamber. The electric light panels became more widely spaced. The light wood paneling, pervasive in the rest of the Temple, gave way to dark stones. Massive stones mortared together. They looked a lot more ancient than five or even seven hundred years. Like maybe the original colonists had usurped an older building after they slaughtered the inhabitants.
Jake felt as if the walls closed in around him. The dim light took on weight and texture. His breathing became strained. He kept his left hand on the wall that should be the back side of the chamber. His right hand he wanted free to pull his sword.
About halfway to where the hallway ended in a sharp corner, he pressed his ear against the stones on his left. A quiet susurration of sound; the murmur of voices. The HC continuing their discussion or the memories of an ancient people trapped in stone?
He shook off the superstitious nonsense and proceeded to the end. To his left, he found another of the ubiquitous small alcoves with a neglected altar. Cobwebs connected every surface to the stones. It reminded him of holovids of ancient castles back on Earth.
Guilliam had used a similar one to access the basement tunnels.
Jake turned back to the altar.
Strange. He’d seen a lot of dust, lots of insects. But no spiders. Whatever made these cobwebs seemed unique to this particular spot. Was the atavistic fear of arachnids so ingrained in racial memory that Harmonites shied away from cobwebs even though they knew nothing of spiders?
He released his stiletto from his arm sheath and gingerly touched the stringy mass with the tip. It remained intact, like a synthetic fiber. He swapped the stiletto for an edged boot knife. That blade sliced through the sticky web easily and wrapped around the knife like a bandage. Hmmmm. Shredded bandage fiber with its self-stick adhesive still ingrained.
A few moments later Jake had cleared away all of the web. Tufts of it clung to his uniform, his hair, the backs of his hands. Along with a lot of dust. Great piles of the stuff. Artificial piles of it meant to deter a finicky investigator, like Penelope. A lot of Temple folk, mostly the ordained clergy, seemed deathly afraid of getting their hands dirty.
Once clear of debris, Jake spent several minutes moving the crystals atop the altar, feeling under the lip of the top piece, shoving at the plinth and the main column of the structure. Then he stepped back and frowned.
Guilliam would want quick and easy access to anything behind the altar. He wouldn’t want to disturb his camouflage. So… Jake shifted his attention to the walls surrounding the altar. Was that just a crack in the mortar or the outline of a low door?
Jake squeezed between the altar and the wall. Guilliam was about his own height, but bulkier of build. He’d be hard-pressed to push his middle-aged belly through here. Jake just barely fit in the space. No one would suspect Guilliam could slide in here.
This place must be important.
A little pressure on the wall beside the crack and it swung inward on well-oiled hinges.
“Eureka!” Jake almost shouted. Then he remembered his need for stealth. He slipped inside and waited for his eyes to adjust to the brighter light that flashed on the moment the door swung shut behind him.
He found himself in a small room, not much bigger than the altar alcove. Three walls were covered with the flickering lights of monitor screens. Twelve in all. Each showed the activity in a different room. Including the HC Chamber.
No Guilliam. No room for another exit. This must be only one of many observation posts.
A quick glance showed Sissy standing at the long Council table. The crystals on her veil clanked together as she moved her head right and left. The crystals chimed louder than her words. Guilliam needed a better microphone.
“How can we know our entire faith is not based on a lie if we do not have the original tablets to consult?” she asked.
“We have copies in the archives,” Gregor said mildly. His face had a studied blank look that Jake knew meant he was lying.
“How do we know the copies are true and accurate?” Sissy insisted. She placed her clenched hands on the table and leaned forward.
“You doubt the integrity of our people!” Gregor shouted. He stood up, trying to convey outrage. But his shoulders were too relaxed.
“Give me a reason to have as much faith in them as I do in all seven of our gods.” Sissy stared him down. “Show me the copies. Bring them forth for all the people to read and inspect. Do it every Holy Day. If you hide them, then you have a reason to keep them secret.”
“Perhaps so you can change the rules as you deem necessary?” Lady Marissa cocked one eyebrow at the High Priest.
“The copies are old. Fragile. Exposure to the air will damage them irrevocably,” Gregor protested.
“Then why aren’t there copies of the copies?” Lady Marissa continued. She sounded as if this were just a mild discussion of what flowers to put in the centerpiece at dinner.
“Wonder why we never thought we needed to read the Covenant before?” Lord Nathaniel asked.
No one listened to him. The others kept their rapt attention on the three leaders at the head of the table.
“I am going to the archives now. Your clerks do not have the authority to hide anything from me. I will see these copies. All of them. New and old. I shall compare them for discrepancies.” Sissy marched toward the door.
“Good on you, My Laudae,” Jake murmured.
Oops, he’d better hurry back, sticky web, dirt and all. He needed to be beside Sissy every step of the way. Make sure she understood what she read. And keep Laud Gregor from slipping in a forgery.
Or slipping a knife between her ribs.
Chapter 49
Sissy tapped her foot impatiently. “And you wonder why I distrust your archivist?” she said quietly to Laud Gregor. Dust filled her nose and threatened her breathing. Books and piles of paper littered every surface, piled haphazardly, teetering on the brink of falling. Even ancient rolls tied with bits of fraying ribbon had been tossed carelessly into the jumble. The archivist and his method for finding anything were apparently absent.
Tall, gaunt, and balding, he looked as if he never saw the blessed light of Empathy and ate knowledge rather than food.
He bore an uncanny resemblance to what Laud Gregor would look like in twenty years.
“How do you find anything in here?” Lady Marissa asked. She and Lord Nathaniel were the only members of the High Council who had followed Sissy and Gregor to the archives in the very back of the oldest part of the Temple. Lord Chauncey seemed to be avoiding Sissy at all costs.
“Apparently they remember where they put everything and don’t need to keep records,” Lord Nathaniel quipped, then spoiled the humor by coughing. He doubled over in an uncontrollable spasm.
Jake handed him one of Sissy’s inhalers. The old man took it gratefully. Then he hobbled out, using his cane and Lady Marissa’s arm to keep him upright.
“It seems the High Council does not agree with your need to read the copies of the Covenant,” Laud Gregor said mildly. He kept the infuriat-ingly blank look on his face, betraying no emotion.
“I expect to see those copies on my desk by dinnertime,” Sissy said curtly. Angry at her repeated failure to accomplish anything, she spun about with a clank of the crystals in her veil and marched back the way they had come.
At the first junction of corridors she turned to Jake and whispered, “I’m lost.”
“To the left, I think. There’s more light down that way.” He pointed to where the massive stonework gave way to lighter woods, big windows, and well spaced lights.
“What do I do now?” she asked the air, not really expecting an answer.
“Wait until everyone is asleep,” Jake replied.
“You know something?” She kept walking, making sure her voice didn’t carry beyond his ears.
“I suspect something. We’ll investigate the High Altar in privacy. There should be a spring or hidden door to access the tablets. Or possibly a door from the basement.”
“There are basements?” Sissy shuddered. She’d heard of basements and the filth they hid. “And you discovered this how?” She looked at the dust and globs of white stuck to him in odd places.
“Let’s just say the Temple building has as many secrets as its inhabitants.”
“I believe that.”
“Guilliam?”
“Yes, My Laud?” The assistant appeared at Gregor’s elbow, just as he knew he would.
“Talk to the archivist and all his clerks. I want all copies of the Covenant rounded up and on my desk in one hour. No more. Less time would be preferable.”
“Will you take the copies to Laudae Sissy?”
“Not until I have read them all and corrected any mistakes.” Mistakes that deviated from what he knew was best for Harmony.
“Yes, My Laud. While I take care of that, Admiral Nentares da Andromeda pa HQ H Prime awaits you in your office.” Guilliam scuttled off into the bowels of the archives.
“The head of the Spacer caste? What does he want?”
“You’ll have to ask him,” came Guilliam’s disembodied voice from behind a tall case containing a haphazard collection of rolled documents and dusty books.
Gregor mumbled and grumbled to himself as he wended his way back to his office. He formulated exact phrases to counter any accusations that might arise. He’d heard nothing about the deceased communications officer. The Spacers had not seen fit to release that information to the media.
“What’s with that verbal dustup in the courtyard?” Admiral Nentares asked the moment he and Gregor shook hands. A man near Gregor’s age with a full head of brown hair, cropped short. He had the slight build of his caste, a more efficient metabolism and compact size for convenience in long-term space travel in cramped ship quarters. Gregor towered over him, yet he almost felt the need to salute his overwhelming aura of command.
“A minor disagreement over proper ritual procedure,” Gregor dismissed the “dustup” easily. The entire city probably knew the minute details by now. He refused to acknowledge them; refused to give the media that kind of control over Temple. What he decreed as truth was the truth, no matter what the hover cams reported.
“What brings you here, Admiral?” Gregor took his seat behind his desk and waved the admiral to the less comfortable chair before it. He wanted the symbols of authority and hierarchy in place.
“Two things. First, you know that we have equipment and personnel monitoring deep space communications.” The admiral sat stiffly, his back never touching the chair. “Redundant systems.
“I have heard rumors of such.”
The admiral raised his eyebrows slightly. Did he know that Gregor had thumbprint-sealed detailed reports on his desk every day? He did until an unfortunate comm technician died. He’d have to find a replacement.
“We have deciphered anomalies in the communications of our enemies,” Nentares said. He kept his voice level and his eyes probing Gregor.
“What kind of anomalies?” Gregor sat forward, hands clasped. “New assaults on our frontier?”
“We have noted a serious buildup of Maril fleets, almost the beginnings of a blockade. What concerns me more is that the CSS has sent an offer of peace, and the opportunity to consult with them on neutral territory.”
“Bah, we don’t need them.” He’d had that report three days ago and decided to ignore it. “We don’t care about a blockade of our frontier. We are self-sufficient.”
