DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga) by R.A. Salvatore
Authors: R.A. Salvatore
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position, and your allegiance to the King in a time such as this—when the lines between Church and Crown have been so blurred, when the people have so turned against your former ally, Markwart—is not a desirable trait.”
For a long while, Je’howith seemed to Braumin to be composing a retort, perhaps even a tirade, but then there came a call that King Danube was in the building, and the news seemed to calm the old abbot dramatically. Braumin understood the change, for Je’howith had been put under great pressure by King Danube to put the Abellican house in order, a demand the King would not debate.
“Who then?” Je’howith asked sharply. “The woman?”
Braumin shrugged and wound up shaking his head. “If Jilseponie would accept the nomination …”
Je’howith began resolutely shaking his head.
“As your Father Abbot desired, by the interpretation of Master Francis,” Braumin pointedly added. “Then I, and Francis and many others, would back her with all our hearts.”
“I am not so sure that Brother Francis’ heart remains strong on this issue,” Je’howith said slyly.
“We could rally enough support without him,” Braumin insisted; though in truth, he didn’t believe his declaration. He knew that Francis was indeed leaning against Pony’s nomination now, and that without Francis—or even with him—selling the idea of a mother abbess at all, let alone someone not even formally affiliated with the Church, would be no easy task!
“And you would tear the Abellican Church apart,” Je’howith insisted.
“And better our Church of Avelyn might be for that!” Braumin snapped back. “But no, fear not, for Jilseponie has declined the offer. She will not be the nextleader of the Abellican Church.”
“Who then?” Je’howith asked. “Does young Braumin reach so high?”
Indeed, Braumin had been considering that very thing, though while his closest friends, Castinagis and Viscenti, had thought it a wonderful notion, even Brother Francis had hesitated. Francis had been very blunt with Braumin, telling him that he was too young and far too inexperienced to be accepted by the other leaders, and far too naive to handle the realities of the politics that would accompany such a position.
If Je’howith had given him any hint of softening, though, Braumin might have continued to consider the try.
“You are not nearly ready,” Je’howith said, and Braumin recognized that the man was speaking sincerely. “Perhaps if you backed me and I was elected, I would consider taking you as my protégé.”
“No,” Braumin returned without hesitation. “It will not be you, Abbot Je’howith.”
Je’howith started to say something, but paused and sighed. “There is Abbot Olin of St. Bondabruce in Entel.”
Braumin bristled visibly, shaking his head.
“He will be a strong candidate,” Je’howith replied.
“His ways are more attuned to those of Behren than those of Honce-the-Bear,” Braumin pointed out; and it was true enough, and everyone in the Church knew it. Entel was Honce-the-Bear’s southernmost major city, on the coast in the northern foothills of the Belt-and-Buckle, a mountain range that separated the kingdom from Behren. Entel’s sister city was, in fact, Jacintha, Behren’s seat of power, located on the coast in the southern foothills of that same range, a short boat ride from Entel.
“Even so, if we, who have witnessed the drama of the last weeks, do not present a unified front, Abbot Olin will likely win the day,” Je’howith replied.
“But you—as I—do not think him a wise choice.”
Je’howith shrugged.
“There are many masters of St.-Mere-Abelle qualified in experience and in temperament,” Braumin suggested. He saw that Je’howith was obviously not enamored of the idea. “Fio Bou-raiy and Machuso.”
“Bou-raiy is not ready, and is too angry; and Machuso spends his days, every day, with peasants,” Je’howith said. “Better another—Agronguerre of St.
For a long while, Je’howith seemed to Braumin to be composing a retort, perhaps even a tirade, but then there came a call that King Danube was in the building, and the news seemed to calm the old abbot dramatically. Braumin understood the change, for Je’howith had been put under great pressure by King Danube to put the Abellican house in order, a demand the King would not debate.
“Who then?” Je’howith asked sharply. “The woman?”
Braumin shrugged and wound up shaking his head. “If Jilseponie would accept the nomination …”
Je’howith began resolutely shaking his head.
“As your Father Abbot desired, by the interpretation of Master Francis,” Braumin pointedly added. “Then I, and Francis and many others, would back her with all our hearts.”
“I am not so sure that Brother Francis’ heart remains strong on this issue,” Je’howith said slyly.
“We could rally enough support without him,” Braumin insisted; though in truth, he didn’t believe his declaration. He knew that Francis was indeed leaning against Pony’s nomination now, and that without Francis—or even with him—selling the idea of a mother abbess at all, let alone someone not even formally affiliated with the Church, would be no easy task!
“And you would tear the Abellican Church apart,” Je’howith insisted.
“And better our Church of Avelyn might be for that!” Braumin snapped back. “But no, fear not, for Jilseponie has declined the offer. She will not be the nextleader of the Abellican Church.”
“Who then?” Je’howith asked. “Does young Braumin reach so high?”
Indeed, Braumin had been considering that very thing, though while his closest friends, Castinagis and Viscenti, had thought it a wonderful notion, even Brother Francis had hesitated. Francis had been very blunt with Braumin, telling him that he was too young and far too inexperienced to be accepted by the other leaders, and far too naive to handle the realities of the politics that would accompany such a position.
If Je’howith had given him any hint of softening, though, Braumin might have continued to consider the try.
“You are not nearly ready,” Je’howith said, and Braumin recognized that the man was speaking sincerely. “Perhaps if you backed me and I was elected, I would consider taking you as my protégé.”
“No,” Braumin returned without hesitation. “It will not be you, Abbot Je’howith.”
Je’howith started to say something, but paused and sighed. “There is Abbot Olin of St. Bondabruce in Entel.”
Braumin bristled visibly, shaking his head.
“He will be a strong candidate,” Je’howith replied.
“His ways are more attuned to those of Behren than those of Honce-the-Bear,” Braumin pointed out; and it was true enough, and everyone in the Church knew it. Entel was Honce-the-Bear’s southernmost major city, on the coast in the northern foothills of the Belt-and-Buckle, a mountain range that separated the kingdom from Behren. Entel’s sister city was, in fact, Jacintha, Behren’s seat of power, located on the coast in the southern foothills of that same range, a short boat ride from Entel.
“Even so, if we, who have witnessed the drama of the last weeks, do not present a unified front, Abbot Olin will likely win the day,” Je’howith replied.
“But you—as I—do not think him a wise choice.”
Je’howith shrugged.
“There are many masters of St.-Mere-Abelle qualified in experience and in temperament,” Braumin suggested. He saw that Je’howith was obviously not enamored of the idea. “Fio Bou-raiy and Machuso.”
“Bou-raiy is not ready, and is too angry; and Machuso spends his days, every day, with peasants,” Je’howith said. “Better another—Agronguerre of St.
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