a brandy locker with, Braumin noted, a rather large sword hanging over it. The Duke poured himself a drink and motioned an offer to Braumin, who shook his head.
Kalas swirled the liquid in his glass a couple of times, then slowly turned, half sitting on the edge of the locker, his expression calm once more.
"If you have more to say, then speak it clearly," he bade the abbot.
"I doubt there will ever be more to say," Braumin replied. "I will be too busy with the construction of the chapel of Avelyn in Caer Tinella and with the expansion of St. Precious."
There it was, laid out clearly and simply.
Duke Kalas sat very still for a long while, digesting all of the information, sipping his drink, then swallowing it suddenly in one great gulp. He threw the glass against the wall, shattering it, and rose up so forcefully that the heavy locker skidded back a few inches.
"You have heard of the word 'extortion'? " he asked.
"You have heard of the word 'polities'? " Braumin came right back.
Kalas reached back and above him and tore the sword from the wall, bringing it out before him. "Perhaps a personal meeting with your God will teach you the difference between the two," he started to say, but he stopped, staring curiously, as Abbot Braumin presented his hand forward, palm up, revealing a small dark stone, a graphite, humming with power.
"Shall we see which of us God chooses to take and instruct this day? " he asked, a wry, confident smile on his face; though in truth, his guts were chuming. Braumin Herde had never been a warrior, nor was he overproficient with the gemstones. With his graphite, he could bring forth a small bolt of lightning, but he doubted it would do more than slow fierce Kalas for a few moments, and perhaps straighten a bit of the curly black hair on the man's head.
But still, Braumin was not surprised by this sudden turn, not at all. His quiet accusation against Kalas was no minor thing, after all!
And so he was ready for this moment, had prepared himself extensively, and he stood perfectly still, hand up firm.
"You play dangerous games, Abbot Braumin."
"Not so, Duke Kalas," Braumin replied. "We each use whatever means we must to further that cause in which we believe. The revelation of a supposed dark secret, perhaps, or a battle on a foggy morning."
"And what cause will you further? " Kalas spat.
"St. Precious will be expanded," the monk replied. He lowered his hand as Kalas lowered his sword.
"That is all?"
"That is all." Braumin Herde didn't add "for now," but he saw from Kalas' sour expression that the Duke understood the implication well enough. Abbot Braumin had a heavy sword now, hanging in the air above the head of Duke Targon Bree Kalas, and Kalas' own inability to dismiss the hints as preposterous were all the proof that Braumin needed to know that what Dellman suspected was true: Duke Kalas of Wester-Honce, perhaps the closest adviser in all the world to King Danube Brock Ursal himself, had utilized powries, wretched bloody caps, in his quest to strengthen the power of the Throne in Palmaris.
Abbot Braumin's step as he exited Chasewind Manor soon after wassurprisingly to him-not as boisterous as the ones that had brought him to the place, though he had the signed approval for St. Precious' expansion tucked safely under one arm. No, Braumin found the whole business of coercing Duke Kalas a most distasteful affair, and he prayed that he would never, ever have to repeat it.
But he would visit the man again, if need be, the abbot assured himself. His life had purpose and a direct path, and he swore then on the soul of Master Jojonah-his mentor, his dearest friend-that he would continue the good fight.
"Lady Pemblebury approaches," the sentry in the hall announced.
Abbot Je'howith crinkled his old face at the proclamation, but King Danube couldn't hold back a smile.
"You have not made the open declaration yet," Je'howith reminded him. "Whispers speak that the coming child is yours, of course, but word has not been sent, nor has your decision concerning the status of the child."
"I did not know that anything was required of me," Danube replied sarcastically, for he was the king, after all, and his word, whatever that word might be, was law in Honce-the-Bear.
" I only wonder what your brother might come to think if those whispers reach his ears," Je'howith said; and that did indeed