Hell's Foundations Quiver (64 page)

“You'd never guess from his deployments that that was important to Maigwair, though,” Clyntahn continued in a tone that was more than half a snarl. “He spends a lot of time talking about reinforcements and replacements, but he never seems to
do
anything with them! Just look at the way the Army of Tanshar's sitting on its arse—and not because Bishop Militant Tayrens
wants
to be sitting there, either!”

Rayno's expression never flickered, but his jaw clenched. Tayrens Teagmahn commanded the Army of Tanshar, the reserve army Allayn Maigwair had raised over the past fall and winter and drawn upon for the reinforcements sent forward to Cahnyr Kaitswyrth's Army of Glacierheart. At the moment, it was located in the Princedom of Tanshar, from which it took its name, just over the Temple Lands border from the Episcopate of Klynair, where the relatively moderate climate had allowed the needed drill and training even in the heart of winter. Unfortunately, it had critically few rifles and field guns at the moment for the very good reason that Maigwair had stripped out its best trained and equipped formations to reinforce Kaitswyrth.

It was perhaps unfortunate that the Grand Inquisitor had never let his ignorance of the realities of finance or logistics get in the way of his demands for weapons and equipment. He deeply resented any niggling reality that thwarted his desires, and the fact that Teagmahn, like any good general, wanted his troops to be properly equipped only increased the Grand Inquisitor's frustration. The bishop militant had submitted request after request to Allayn Maigwair and Rhobair Duchairn for the weapons to arm his
entire
command, and when they informed him that the weapons he wanted simply weren't available, he hadn't been shy about turning to his intendant, Auxiliary Bishop Rhobair Makswyl. Makswyl was as fervent an intendant as a man could wish for, and he'd passed every one of Teagmahn's requests along to his own superiors, which had brought Clyntahn into repeated conflict with his fellow vicars even before Teagmahn was forced to disgorge Kaitswyrth's reinforcements.

Normally, Rayno found his superior's tendency to brush over the Jihad's physical limitations one of the most frustrating aspects of serving him, but in this case he was even angrier than the Grand Inquisitor, if not for exactly the same reasons.

The Rayno family was powerful enough—and had sufficiently distinguished itself in Mother Church's service—that Mother Church had set aside her customary policy of assigning senior priests or bishops to parishes and bishoprics outside the lands of their birth in the case of one Wyllym Rayno. That was how he came to be Archbishop of Chiang-wu … and it was also why he'd been bitterly opposed to rearming and—especially—retraining the Mighty Host of God and the Archangels. The last thing he wanted to see was an army of experienced, well-trained serfs returning to his family's ancestral home polluted by all sorts of radical ideas picked up from other lands … and equipped with the military training to do something about them.

The Grand Inquisitor, unfortunately, saw only the monumental reliability of Harchong. He was delighted by the sledgehammer into which Allayn Maigwair and Rhobair Duchairn had transformed the Mighty Host, and Rayno knew better than to argue the point with him. Instead, he'd limited his opposition to quiet, covert efforts to undermine the Earl of Rainbow Waters while making certain any intendant assigned to the Mighty Host had the proper fire in his belly.

Still, he understood the point Clyntahn was making, and if it offered an opening.…

“Do you believe Vicar Allayn and Vicar Rhobair are deliberately starving Bishop Militant Tayrens of weapons, Your Grace?” he asked carefully.

“I believe Vicar Allayn is deliberately withholding as much of Teagmahn's entire army from Siddarmark as he can get away with,” Clyntahn grated. Despite himself, Rayno felt his eyebrows rise slightly, and Clyntahn glowered at him. “Think about it, Wyllym. If Teagmahn had received forty or fifty thousand of the new rifles, Maigwair would have had an
effective
reserve sitting there in Tanshar instead of the miserable thirty thousand he came up with to send the Army of Glacierheart! He could've sent
all
of it across the Gulf of Tanshar and up the Fairmyn River to reinforce Kaitswyrth, or he could've sent Kaitswyrth the troops he's actually getting and used the Dairnyth-Alyksberg Canal to send the rest of them south to hit that bastard Hanth in the rear. Either of those would put more pressure on the heretics and draw at least
some
weight off Wyrshym, wouldn't it?”

“I see your point, Your Grace,” Rayno murmured.

The truth, of course, was that it would have accomplished nothing of the sort. An advance south
might
have compelled the heretic Hanth to abandon his steady, grim advance along the Sheryl-Seridahn, but it would never have diverted Greyghor Stohnar and Cayleb Ahrmahk's unwavering determination to destroy Bahrnabai Wyrshym's army once and for all. The Army of the Sylmahn was simply too vulnerable, especially now, and Cayleb and Stohnar were resolved to liberate the Inquisition's camps in northern Siddarmark at the earliest possible moment. However.…

“I see your point,” he repeated. “Unfortunately, you're also correct that, at the moment, Bishop Militant Tayrens could accomplish very little simply because his men lack the arms to meet the heretics in battle. Perhaps it would be wiser to transfer at least some of the rifles and field pieces en route to Earl Rainbow Waters to the Bishop Militant, instead.” He shrugged. “I'm no military man myself, Your Grace. Nonetheless, it seems evident to me that there's little point in raising and training an army if you then fail to
arm
it.”

“
Exactly
the point I've been making to Maigwair and that sniveling cretin Duchairn!” Clyntahn growled. “And I intend to
go on
making it, I assure you. But the truth is I'm actually more concerned about Bishop Militant Ruhsail. I have some nasty suspicions where he's concerned.”

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”

Rayno cocked his head in genuine surprise. Bishop Militant Ruhsail Symmyns' command, in winter quarters in the Episcopate of Schueler on the southeastern shore of Lake Pei, was far smaller than the Army of Tanshar. In fact, he commanded barely thirty thousand men, and he was one of the most ardent supporters of the Jihad Rayno could think of.

“Oh, I'm not concerned about
Symmyns'
loyalty.” Clyntahn waved a beefy hand. “I'm a little less confident about some of his regimental and division commanders, though. His intendant's reports seem to indicate all of them—even Symmyns, to some extent—are strongly in agreement with Maigwair's desire to pull Wyrshym back. None of them are actively criticizing the decision
not
to withdraw the Army of the Sylmahn, but it strikes me that they have just a bit too much confidence in the ‘Captain General' and his judgment.”

Rayno felt no temptation to point out to the Grand Inquisitor that most armies considered it a good thing when their officers and troops had confidence in their commanders' judgment.

“Are you concerned about their … reliability, Your Grace?” he asked delicately.

“I don't know.” Any admission of uncertainty was most unlike Zhaspahr Clyntahn, and Rayno's eyes narrowed slightly. “I just know Maigwair's managed to get a higher percentage of rifles to Symmyns' command than he has to the Army of Tanshar. He
says
that's because Symmyns is so much closer that the logistics are simpler—and he's pointed out that the Army of Tanshar was originally supposed to be armed with Dohlaran-built rifles before that disaster in the South March. Now Dohlar's hanging on to every rifle it can manufacture while it rebuilds its own army. According to him, that's the reason Teagmahn's standing around with his thumb up his arse waiting while Symmyns is getting at least a trickle of rifles and artillery. I haven't been able to
prove
he's lying to me, but.…”

The Grand Inquisitor's voice trailed off, and Rayno's eyes narrowed a bit more. Then they widened, and his expression went completely blank as he realized what he'd just seen in
Clyntahn's
eyes.

Uncertainty. Possibly even fear.

Schueler! It
is
fear,
the archbishop thought, and an icicle ran down his spine.

The one emotion he'd never seen Clyntahn display—or not more than briefly, at any rate—was fear. And certainly he'd never seen uncertainty. The Grand Inquisitor's power was the core of his personality. The ability to destroy his foes, to smite them with all the invincible power of God and Mother Church, was the lens through which he saw the entire world. Other people feared
him
; any other arrangement was unthinkable. And while he might occasionally be
wrong
about some problem or decision, he was never
uncertain
; that was another fundamental hallmark of his character. But now—

He's more worried about Wyrshym and the Army of the Sylmahn than he wants to admit even to himself
, Rayno thought.
He could wave his hands over what happened to the Army of Shiloh, but not this one. The Army of Shiloh was a
secular
army, with secular commanders who obviously screwed up by the numbers, so he could dismiss what happened to them. Besides, Shiloh and the South March were secondary theaters, as far as he was concerned
.

But it's different when he starts talking about the Army of God. He's pinning a lot of faith on the Mighty Host, but how much of that is because he
has
to? Because he's got no other choice? Because the truth is, the only army he truly trusts is Mother Church's own. That's the real reason he's so pissed off that Maigwair and Duchairn keep telling him we simply don't have enough weapons to equip armies the size of the ones he wants to throw at the heretics, too. He feels things slipping out of his control, and those Shan-wei-damned broadsheets going up all over the Temple Lands, the Fist of Kau-Yung, and the way even our own inquisitors are backing off in the camps—all of that—only makes it worse
.

He's actually beginning to think Mother Church might
lose
the Jihad
.

Wyllym Rayno had seen frightened men many times in his life. Indeed, the archbishop who was the Inquisition's second-in-command was accustomed to seeing fear. But not in Zhaspahr Clyntahn. Not in the Grand Inquisitor himself.

“Do you truly believe Vicar Allayn would deceive you about something like that for some reason, Your Grace?” he asked in a painfully neutral tone.

“I believe he's never had enough steel in his spine for Mother Church's Captain General at a time like this,” Clyntahn said flatly. “He's always been ready to jump at shadows, to hide in his corner when the going got a little rough. And I believe he has enough spider rat in him to start thinking about ‘exit strategies' to save his worthless skin.”

A Bédardist, Rayno reflected, would probably have called that “projection,” although he had no intention of pointing that out.

“What sort of ‘exit strategy,' Your Grace?” he asked instead.

“I think one reason he's been sucking up to Duchairn is the hope that the two of them might be able to form a united front against me,” Clyntahn replied. “He'd probably prefer Trynair, but Zahmsyn's learned his place.” The Grand Inquisitor smiled nastily. “Our esteemed Chancellor isn't going to cross
me
whatever happens. So Allayn's looking to Rhobair, and so far it's been working for him, because however little I trust either of them the Jihad needs
both
of them. For now, at least. But the truth is that Allayn's the more … expendable of them. I can always find someone else to run the Army, but Rhobair's the only one who begins to understand how to keep the bills paid. Mother Church won't
always
need him either, though, and when the time comes.…”

Rayno nodded. He and Clyntahn had discussed the Grand Inquisitor's post-Jihad plans for Rhobair Duchairn often enough.

“The thing is that Allayn's getting too big for his britches,” Clyntahn said. “And however much I trust Symmyns, some of his officers might obey Allayn even if that meant mutinying against their immediate superior. That wouldn't bother me too much—they're still six hundred miles from Zion, after all—but they're the
closest
standing military force. If they did mutiny in Allayn's support, they could reach the city—or the
Temple
—before anyone else.”

“Do you seriously believe Vicar Allayn is contemplating some sort of coup, Your Grace?”

“If he isn't contemplating one now, he's likely to start contemplating one soon enough.” Clyntahn's expression was grim. “I don't expect him to try anything overt unless the situation in Siddarmark goes even further into the crapper. That'd take more guts than he's ever had in his life! But if he manages to fuck up this summer's campaign the way he did
last
summer's, he may just decide he has no choice but to throw the dice, especially if he thinks he can convince Rhobair to support him. Under the circumstances, I think it's time we began taking a few small precautions, don't you?”

 

.IV.

Larek Shipyard, and The Delthak Works, Earldom of High Rock, Kingdom of Old Charis, Empire of Charis

Coal smoke and the smell of saltwater, paint, oil, and hot metal filled Ehdwyrd Howsmyn's nostrils. The clangor of old-fashioned hammers and new-model pneumatic rivet guns was deafening, but it was scarcely the only sound assaulting his ears as he stood at dockside and gazed at the mammoth ship floating against the thick fenders. HMS
King Haarahld VII
was one of the three largest vessels ever built on Safehold. She measured four hundred and thirty-five feet on the waterline, with a beam of seventy-seven feet, and her normal displacement would be over fourteen thousand tons when she was completed. With a deck load of coal, she would be able to make the entire voyage from Tellesberg to Claw Island without refueling in just over a month and a half. If she went by way of Cherayth and coaled there, the trip would be five hundred miles longer but she could steam twice as fast and reach her destination in barely twenty-four days.