DemonWars Saga Volume 1 (205 page)

In the two weeks following the speech of the new bishop, Palmaris had changed considerably. Every fourth day, St. Precious was filled to overflowing, more than two thousand people at a time celebrating the holy rituals. Few dared question why those rituals involved several collections of the silver and gold bear-stamped coins of the kingdom, or even, if the person had no money, a piece of jewelry or clothing.

Outwardly, there were few signs of discontent. The Bishop's show of power —monks and soldiers parading the streets daily—kept the peace, kept a smile, however strained, on the face of every member of the congregation. In the words of Pony, it was "faith by intimidation."

For the Behrenese in the dockside neighborhood, the situation worsened. Since De'Unnero had taken charge, the soldiers and monks had been given free rein to harass them, but now even the common Palmaris citizen thought nothing of hurling an insult, a ball of spit, even a rock, at the "foreigners." The Behrenese, with their dark skin and different mannerisms, were easily identifiable. Convenient targets for De'Unnero's scapegoating, Pony noted. She spent many days by the docks now, watching and studying; and it seemed obvious to her that the Behrenese, though they showed no outward signs, had begun to put together an organized plan of common safety. Before the soldiers and monks arrived on any given day, though they followed no schedule, most of the weaker Behrenese —the elderly, the infirm, a woman great with child—seemed to have disappeared.

And always, Pony noted, the same handful of men and a pair of women were about, accepting the insults to pride and to body.

Another fellow caught her attention, and Pony watched him more closely. He was a tall, dark-skinned sailor, commanding a ship called the
Saudi Jacintha
—a man of some renown, apparently, one even the monks did not bother. Pony knew Captain Al'u'met by name, for he had been the one to ferry her and Elbryan, Bradwarden, and Juraviel across the Masur Delaval on their return from St.-Mere-Abelle. They had gone to him on Master Jojonah's recommendation; and with that monk's writ in hand, had secured transport with no questions asked.

Al'u'met was much more than a pirate, Pony and the others had realized, and much more than captain of a ferry for hire. He was Jojonah's friend; the Master's recommendation had been of the highest order, words based more on principle than on pragmatism. Now, it appeared, the captain was again showing courage. Outwardly he appeared removed from all the turmoil, walking the decks of his ship, but Pony saw him exchanging knowing nods with the leader of the Behrenese on several occasions.

Pony's work with Belster was going fairly well —most of his substantial network were, to Pony's relief, not enamored of the new bishop—not at all. Now she dreamed of linking her group to the Behrenese, but that, she knew, would prove a far more difficult task.

That captain of the
Saudi Jacintha
might prove to be the key.

"I shall accompany you personally this day," an agitated De'Unnero explained to Brother Jollenue and several soldiers as they prepared to leave the abbey on their daily rounds of the merchant quarter in the relentless search for gemstones. The night before, the Bishop, with his garnet, had detected some fairly powerful stone usage from a particular mansion, a house the monks had visited before. The merchant there had sworn he had no magic stones.

Brother Jollenue eyed De'Unnero suspiciously and fearfully. Jollenue had been Bishop De'Unnero's leading collector of stones. There had been whispers in the abbey —though mostly from brothers jealous of the attention Jollenue was receiving from the new bishop—that Jollenue had been making deals with the merchants, allowing them to keep their more precious stones, surrendering only those of lesser power.

"I shall not fail, my lord," the monk, a fifth-year brother, remarked. "I have been most thorough."

De'Unnero's look was incredulous.

"It d-does not please me to bother a man as important and busy as you," Brother Jollenue stammered, melting under that gaze. "I endeavor to fulfill my duty."

De'Unnero continued to stare at the man, enjoying watching this underling squirm. His decision to accompany the monk had had nothing to do with distrusting him but was more a matter of his own boredom —the chance to make an example of this lying merchant.

"If you have heard something less than exemplary concerning my performance in this most vital mission you have assigned —" a nervous Jollenue started.

"Should I have heard such?" De'Unnero interrupted, unable to resist. The young brother was trembling now, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

"No, no, my lord," the man replied immediately. "I mean . . . they are just the false accusations of jealous brothers."

De'Unnero was enjoying this; in truth, he hadn't heard a single complaint against Jollenue.

"Every stone collected," Jollenue went on, a hint of desperation in his voice. He grew more animated with every word, waving his hands. "Never would I allow a man not of the Church to keep even a tiny diamond, even if his house was bereft of candles," Jollenue declared. "Pray in the darkness, I would tell him. Reveal your sins to yourself. Let God —"

The man's words turned into a groan as De'Unnero caught one of his swinging hands and bent his thumb back. Faster than the brother could react, the Bishop stepped beside Jollenue's shoulder and drove his index finger up under poor Jollenue's ear on the pressure point.

Paralyzed with agony, poor Jollenue could only whimper and beg for mercy.

"Why, dear Brother Jollenue," Bishop De'Unnero remarked, "it never occurred to me that you might be cheating me and cheating the Church."

"Please, my lord," Jollenue gasped. "I have not."

"Are you lying?" De'Unnero casually asked, pushing so hard with his finger that Jollenue's legs buckled.

"No, my lord!"

"I know the truth," De'Unnero declared. "I give you one last chance to speak that truth. If you lie, I shall push my finger right into your brain, a most painful death, I assure you." Jollenue started to answer, but De'Unnero pushed harder. "One last chance," De'Unnero repeated. "Have you cheated me?"

"No," Jollenue managed to say, and De'Unnero released him. He fell over, curling up on the floor, groaning and clutching the side of his head.

De'Unnero raked his eyes over the soldiers, and each of them backed away respectfully.

That reaction pleased the new bishop immensely.

After Jollenue recovered, they set off —a half dozen soldiers and the two monks. At first, Brother Jollenue remained a respectful stride behind De'Unnero, but the Bishop beckoned the man to his side.

"You have been to this house before —or perhaps it was one of the other groups," De'Unnero explained. "It does not matter," he quickly added, seeing the man grow nervous, probably formulating some excuse for his failure. "This merchant is cunning, it would seem. I am not certain if he surrendered some stones, keeping his most prized, or if he somehow managed to elude us altogether."

"But only for a short while, it would seem," Jollenue said hopefully.

De'Unnero's lip curled, as much a snarl as a smile, and he glanced at Jollenue. He picked up the pace, walking determinedly. Soon they were in the merchant quarter, walking along a cobblestone road, neatly trimmed hedgerows to either side and great stone houses set far apart, each a fortress of its own, complete with a surrounding wall.

"That one," De'Unnero explained, pointing to a rather plain brownstone dwelling.

Brother Jollenue nodded and lowered his gaze.

"One of your inspections?" De'Unnero asked.

"Aloysius Crump," the monk replied. "A boisterous man, strong of body and of spirit. A trader of fine cloths and furs."

"He refused your right of inspection?"

"He allowed us entry," one of the soldiers explained. "The man cooperated fully, my lord, as much as a proud man like Master Crump can cooperate for such an indignity as an inspection."

"You speak as if you know the man," he accused.

"I guarded a caravan on which he was a principal," the soldier admitted. "A journey to the Timberlands."

"Indeed," said the Bishop. "And tell me of Master Crump."

"A warrior," the soldier said, obviously impressed by the merchant. "He has seen many battles and never shies from a fight, no matter the odds. Twice he was left for dead on a field, only to walk back in hours later, very much alive and seeking revenge. They call him Crump the Badger, and it is a name, I assure you, that is well earned."

"Indeed," the Bishop said again, obviously not impressed. "You trust and respect this man?"

"I do," the soldier admitted.

"And so, perhaps your judgment of the man hindered Brother Jollenue's inspection," the Bishop surmised, putting the man on the defensive. The soldier started to protest, but De'Unnero held up his hand. "Our discussion of this matter will wait until a more convenient time," he said. "But I warn you, do not hinder my inspection. Indeed, you shall wait out here in the middle of the street."

The man bristled and squared his shoulders, puffing out his chest. De'Unnero marked his defiant attitude and realized he could enjoyably put that pride to the test later.

"Come along, and quickly," the Bishop ordered the others. "Let us pay the merchant a visit before he has the time to hide his precious gemstones."

"Master Crump has dogs," Brother Jollenue warned, but that hardly slowed De'Unnero. He rushed to the gate, leaped and grabbed its top, then pulled himself over in one fluid motion. A few seconds later the baying of hounds began, and the gate swung open wide. Jollenue and the soldiers ran to join the Bishop, but De'Unnero didn't wait for them, rushing into the open yard, in defiance of a shouting guard and the two barking dogs, their short black coats shining, their white teeth gleaming.

The lead dog sprinted for the Bishop and, barely ten feet away, leaped high for his throat.

De'Unnero quickly dropped into a sudden squat. Over his head went the the dog, and up snapped De'Unnero's hand to grab its hind leg. Up went the bishop and out snapped his other hand, catching the dog's other hind leg. His hands were crossed, left holding the dog's right leg, right holding the left. He lowered the dog down to its front paws, the beast trying to turn and bite him.

De'Unnero pulled his arms back, forcing the dog's legs wide, beyond the tolerance of its pelvic bones. Hearing the crack, De'Unnero dropped the howling, crippled dog to the ground and spun in time to react to the second dog, flying like an arrow for his throat.

Up snapped the Bishop's forearm, under the dog's snapping jaw, turning the dog in the air. The beast slammed into him and managed to nip his forearm, but De'Unnero's free hand shot out to clasp the dog's throat.

With a feral growl, the Bishop held the hundred-pound dog out straight with seemingly little effort.

Behind him, Brother Jollenue and the guards gasped in amazement; before him, the lone guard slowed his charge to a walk, mouth open.

De'Unnero held the pose for just a moment, then crushed the animal's windpipe. He tossed the dying creature to the ground at the feet of Crump's guard.

The man uttered some low threat and advanced a cautious step, sword extended.

"Stop!" Brother Jollenue yelled at him. "This is Marcalo De'Unnero, the bishop of Palmaris."

The guard stared hard at the man, obviously unsure how to proceed. De'Unnero made the decision for him, walking boldly to the man and slowly pushing him aside. "There is no need to introduce me to Master Crump," the Bishop explained. "He will know of me soon enough."

Up to the door he went, Brother Jollenue and the soldiers falling into line behind him, the guard still standing in the courtyard, staring blankly at the intruders. A kick had the door swinging wide, and the Bishop walked right in.

Servants, who had come into the foyer to see what the disturbance was about, scrambled to get out of the dangerous man's way. Then another man, a huge, ruddy-looking fellow with thick curly black hair sprinkled with gray, entered from a door across the way, his face a mask of outrage.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

De'Unnero glanced back at Brother Jollenue.

"Aloysius Crump," the younger monk confirmed.

De'Unnero turned slowly, a smile spreading over his face, to regard the man, who was now approaching as if he meant to lift the Bishop and throw him out into the street. Certainly this Crump was an impressive specimen, closer to three hundred pounds than to two, De'Unnero estimated, and the lines of several garish scars were clearly visible, including a scab on the side of the man's neck, a very recent wound.

"Meaning?" De'Unnero echoed softly, with a chuckle. "There is a word heavy with connotation.
Meaning.
The meaning of this, the meaning of life. Perhaps the word
purpose
would have better suited your intent."