investment in this grim business? What I do, I do in the name of the Lord God of Heaven, and His Son Jesus Christ, who—”
“You place me at a disadvantage, I’m afraid,” Balaerik interrupted, eyes lowering in apparent shame. “Ay de mi! Alas for me! We are sworn on solemn oath to speak not the Most Holy Names. Nor even those of the recognized and canonized saints of the Church. It is because we regret the necessity of our…violent military posture, which chafes the very tenets of our faith, that we have taken this onerous vow.”
Balaerik could not have stung Izquierdo more deeply if he had gone on to voice the obvious indictment of the Inquisition’s own hypocrisy. The bishop had heard it many times from the mouths of heretics, but never had it been so unsettling as now, dangled in the air by an ostensible fellow clergyman. Human pride began to cloud his thinking, confusing the issue.
Balaerik extracted from his cloak a round container that fit into his palm. Fashioned of bone or ivory, it was hinged near the top, where a tiny lid had been cut into it. It was simple in design, with no ornamentation or other marking.
“A reliquary of the saint whose patronage guides our order,” the donado explained, “who shall, of course, remain unnamed.”
Izquierdo nodded reverently, a bit too acceptingly, by the expression of young Father de la Cenza, who seemed ever about to blurt something. But he held his tongue.
Reaching a hand toward the sealed packet the prelate still carried, Balaerik said, “His Holiness has explained our order’s founding and operation in a missive. He further—”
The Grand Inquisitor cleared his throat, cutting him short. “That is another matter of a delicate nature—your coming here to meet me so altogether…unexpectedly, and bearing the papal seal during this time of awful confusion. God help us all. Have you actually had direct contact with His Holiness, Balaerik? We’ve all heard the terrible stories surrounding the Pontiff’s election. Stories of signs and ill omens attendant upon his succession. And even—” He glanced conspiratorially at de la Cenza, proceeding in a harsh whisper. “—even that the Holy Father has never been seen since that day. That there is, in fact, no vicar of Christ on the papal dais in these troubled times!”
Balaerik drew a deep breath. “The Confounder’s news sprouts wings, does it not? Even here, in the High Office of Inquisition itself, the Wretched One’s poison spreads. Roma, with its lies and intrigues, is a thousand miles away. Ya no hay remedio —there is no help for that now. I know only that you recognize the papal bull I bear and will act on His Holiness’ decree.”
“Decree?”
Balaerik smiled. “It is the reason I was selected to bear it to you personally. My own knowledge regarding its subject. In great measure the decree concerns itself with the very infidel of whom I’ve written you. He whom you yourself claimed knowledge of. And he is here.”
“Here?” Izquierdo stood suddenly, eyes aflame.
“No-no, Your Eminence. Here in Hispania. But that is near enough to warrant your reaction. The decree explains all. The unholy appellations attributed to him are enumerated by His Holiness. Horror and death accompany him wherever he goes, assuming shapes from the Pit itself. Shapes you know well, Your Eminence— lobis homem. The werewolf. You thought perhaps they were eradicated, consigned to the flames for all time? That Spain was free of them? Lobis homem …” Balaerik shook his head somberly to see Izquierdo’s face turn ashen gray. “Isthe Inquisition prepared to deal with them, without our aid? And he is bringing them to you, along with other dark sorcery that follows in his wake.
“You know of whom I speak: that infidel bandit, the Japones , who once courted the favor of the King himself!”
The Grand Inquisitor fell back into his chair again, cupping his head in his hands. Father de la Cenza moved as if he
“You place me at a disadvantage, I’m afraid,” Balaerik interrupted, eyes lowering in apparent shame. “Ay de mi! Alas for me! We are sworn on solemn oath to speak not the Most Holy Names. Nor even those of the recognized and canonized saints of the Church. It is because we regret the necessity of our…violent military posture, which chafes the very tenets of our faith, that we have taken this onerous vow.”
Balaerik could not have stung Izquierdo more deeply if he had gone on to voice the obvious indictment of the Inquisition’s own hypocrisy. The bishop had heard it many times from the mouths of heretics, but never had it been so unsettling as now, dangled in the air by an ostensible fellow clergyman. Human pride began to cloud his thinking, confusing the issue.
Balaerik extracted from his cloak a round container that fit into his palm. Fashioned of bone or ivory, it was hinged near the top, where a tiny lid had been cut into it. It was simple in design, with no ornamentation or other marking.
“A reliquary of the saint whose patronage guides our order,” the donado explained, “who shall, of course, remain unnamed.”
Izquierdo nodded reverently, a bit too acceptingly, by the expression of young Father de la Cenza, who seemed ever about to blurt something. But he held his tongue.
Reaching a hand toward the sealed packet the prelate still carried, Balaerik said, “His Holiness has explained our order’s founding and operation in a missive. He further—”
The Grand Inquisitor cleared his throat, cutting him short. “That is another matter of a delicate nature—your coming here to meet me so altogether…unexpectedly, and bearing the papal seal during this time of awful confusion. God help us all. Have you actually had direct contact with His Holiness, Balaerik? We’ve all heard the terrible stories surrounding the Pontiff’s election. Stories of signs and ill omens attendant upon his succession. And even—” He glanced conspiratorially at de la Cenza, proceeding in a harsh whisper. “—even that the Holy Father has never been seen since that day. That there is, in fact, no vicar of Christ on the papal dais in these troubled times!”
Balaerik drew a deep breath. “The Confounder’s news sprouts wings, does it not? Even here, in the High Office of Inquisition itself, the Wretched One’s poison spreads. Roma, with its lies and intrigues, is a thousand miles away. Ya no hay remedio —there is no help for that now. I know only that you recognize the papal bull I bear and will act on His Holiness’ decree.”
“Decree?”
Balaerik smiled. “It is the reason I was selected to bear it to you personally. My own knowledge regarding its subject. In great measure the decree concerns itself with the very infidel of whom I’ve written you. He whom you yourself claimed knowledge of. And he is here.”
“Here?” Izquierdo stood suddenly, eyes aflame.
“No-no, Your Eminence. Here in Hispania. But that is near enough to warrant your reaction. The decree explains all. The unholy appellations attributed to him are enumerated by His Holiness. Horror and death accompany him wherever he goes, assuming shapes from the Pit itself. Shapes you know well, Your Eminence— lobis homem. The werewolf. You thought perhaps they were eradicated, consigned to the flames for all time? That Spain was free of them? Lobis homem …” Balaerik shook his head somberly to see Izquierdo’s face turn ashen gray. “Isthe Inquisition prepared to deal with them, without our aid? And he is bringing them to you, along with other dark sorcery that follows in his wake.
“You know of whom I speak: that infidel bandit, the Japones , who once courted the favor of the King himself!”
The Grand Inquisitor fell back into his chair again, cupping his head in his hands. Father de la Cenza moved as if he
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