who I would trust right now to withstand pressure from his superiors, and suggesting him would negate the point of agreeing to a confessor in the first place!’
‘Then keep looking,’ Certinse insisted. ‘The factions within the cults are becoming increasingly restless — if I can’t give them something of substance soon my position will become an irrelevance.’
‘How many factions?’ Fernal asked.
Certinse grimaced. ‘It changes from week to week, but they’re beginning to coalesce. Broadly speaking; the Council for Piety is populated by the priests of Vellern, some of Vasle’s, and the priests and chaplains of Nartis. The God of the Birds may have only a minor temple here, but Vellern was more hurt by the abomination in Scree than any other and these days, it’s zealotry that counts, not seniority.
‘The Adherents are driven by my own cardinal branch and some of Death’s priests; the Warriors of the Pantheon are comprised of priests of Karkarn and Vasle, with Lady Amavoq’s bitch-priestesses weighing in because they’re determined not to be out-done in matters of spite.’ Certinse wearily shook his head. ‘Amavoq was not even one of those affronted in Scree.’
Fernal’s brow crumpled even more as he counted the Gods that had been mentioned. There had been six affected by the minstrel’s spell in Scree, six Gods whose cults had been taken over by fanatics. ‘There is one more God to account for?’
‘Aye, Belarannar’s followers have allied with the remainder of Death’s. What they call themselves now I couldn’t tell you; it changes on a weekly basis.’ Certinse held up his hand before Fernal could speak again. ‘That is only a most simplistic view; there are schisms, rogue elements and the Gods only know what else going on right now, but I think most of the rest will only cause trouble for each other. I know of at least a dozen deaths of ordained men and women at the hands of their own.’
‘Aside from those you yourself ordered killed?’ Lesarl asked acidly, waving away the High Cardinal’s indignation. ‘Enough. I will find some concession we can give you. Your clerk is a handy man with a knife and Senior Penitent Yeren should be able to handle anyone they send now the Temple of the Lady is not accepting commissions.’
Certinse rose and bowed to Lord Fernal. ‘Tell that to Unmen Telles,’ he muttered in a resigned voice. ‘She had her head ripped off by an Aspect of Vellern, so I heard.’ Not waiting for a response he headed for the door.
He paused to straighten his robes and to stand a little more upright. Waiting in the corridor was his staff, six priests of different cults, all with sharp eyes and even sharper tongues.
A good thing I renounced my bond with Nartis years ago, Certinse thought as he glared at the first man to blurt out a question. I have so many masters now; I don’t think I could serve a God as well.
The High Cardinal — with his attending party of priests and penitents — travelled by carriage back to the Domon Enclave in the east district of Tirah. The compound of beautiful, grand old buildings constructed around three large quadrangles served as the administrative hub of the cult of Nartis. At its heart was a temple to Nartis as fine as any in the Land, but restricted for use by clerics and the nobility. The stone temple spire and its surrounding framework of wrought iron dwarfed the entire eastern half of the city. It had been designed to attract the arrows of their patron God during Tirah’s regular storms.
Not even the sight of the enclave in all its glory was able to lift Certinse’s gloom. Normally the sight of the manicured lawns, soaring architecture and myriad Aspect shrines never failed to inspire him; he had walked these stone cloisters as a young man, marvelling at the wealth and power on display, dreaming of the day his family would secure the very post that he had, perversely, been given in the end by his enemies.
‘Stop the carriage,’ he ordered suddenly as they passed through into the enclave.
Ignoring the questions from his shepherding priests he stepped down and shut the door firmly behind him. The driveway between the main gate and the warden’s office where all guests were received was no more than forty yards. Certinse waved the carriage on and stood alone for a while in the cold, watching the sun momentarily break through the clouds and cast its light over the rooftops.