Heden was obviously not talking about disappointing the bishop, or Cavall.
He lifted a biscuit from the silver tray and took a bite no larger than a bird’s, careful to cup his other hand under it to catch any crumbs. After he’d eaten three tiny bites, he threw the rest away, picking a damp cloth out of a small brass bowl to clean his fingers. Heden watched this without comment.
“As you say, knights die all the time,” the bishop flashed a brief, humorless smile, tossing the cloth back into the bowl. “The question is how the knight died, you see. Normally a dead knight is replaced by a squire trained up for the purpose but if the death is unrighteous , well then. The order’s patron reduces the size of the order by one. It’s a form of judgment. The order shrinks for every such death. Until the unrighteous death is atoned for.”
“The murderer punished,” Heden concluded.
The bishop raised a single finger of his right hand.
“It’s unclear that there is a murder. The order is so remote, we have no real idea what goes on up there. The idea that they could operate up there for centuries without anything like this happening means this is an extraordinary circumstance. Or they are extraordinary knights.”
“So murder or suicide.”
“You grasp these things so well,” the bishop said with a sigh. He knew Heden didn’t like it when he congratulated him on his insight, but he didn’t udnerstand why.
“So I figure out how he died and…do something about it.”
“You understand that if the death was unrighteous, justice may be very hard to attain. The whole order may bear some burden.”
“Yeah,” Heden said, turning away to look at one of the tapestries. “I understand that.”
“My apologies,” the bishop said. “I don’t mean to sound patronizing.” He wanted Heden to like him, and he suspected he didn’t. But like so much about this man, he didn’t know why.
“I know,” Heden said. “You can’t help it.”
The bishop flashed a smile again, vaguely aware he’d been insulted, but unsure how to respond. An awkward silence settled between them.
Heden felt bad for his early jibe, and filled the silence.
“Who’s their patron?”
“Halcyon,” the bishop said, raising an eyebrow.
Heden searched his memory and sunk back in the plush red chair. “I’m not familiar with the name, your Grace.”
“There’s no reason you should be. She’s one of a handful of saints who predate the Age of Saints. In her case, by almost a thousand years.”
Heden nodded.
“That’s how she has knights older than the Council.”
The bishop nodded once.
“What should I expect,” Heden asked.
The bishop spread his hands. “We’ve done quite a lot of research, none of it very helpful. They live in the forest, they fight all manner of creature, specializing in the kind of thing you used to do when you were younger,” he smiled in what he must have thought was a sign of camaraderie. “They have a reputation. It’s the environment, you see. Only the strong survive up there.
“We know precious little else. We’re trying to find someone who’s been up there and can tell us more. They report to the local barons, they have a priory. Apart from that, whatever’s happened must be…unusual. Deeply wrong, morally or perhaps spiritually. Otherwise we’d never have learned of it.”
“You could send the White Hart,” Heden said.
“I could,” the bishop agreed. “Especially if I wanted the Green Order hunted down and destroyed. The Hart are not that kind of tool, as well you know.”
“What are your wishes?” Heden asked.
“Only that you do what you think is right. You’re going to have to, ah, make a judgment on the spot, as it were.”
Heden shook his head, frustrated.
“Cavall has yet to reveal to me more than a sense that the order protects the people from the forest. From the things in the forest. And that they are critical to our safety.”
“That covers a lot,” Heden
He lifted a biscuit from the silver tray and took a bite no larger than a bird’s, careful to cup his other hand under it to catch any crumbs. After he’d eaten three tiny bites, he threw the rest away, picking a damp cloth out of a small brass bowl to clean his fingers. Heden watched this without comment.
“As you say, knights die all the time,” the bishop flashed a brief, humorless smile, tossing the cloth back into the bowl. “The question is how the knight died, you see. Normally a dead knight is replaced by a squire trained up for the purpose but if the death is unrighteous , well then. The order’s patron reduces the size of the order by one. It’s a form of judgment. The order shrinks for every such death. Until the unrighteous death is atoned for.”
“The murderer punished,” Heden concluded.
The bishop raised a single finger of his right hand.
“It’s unclear that there is a murder. The order is so remote, we have no real idea what goes on up there. The idea that they could operate up there for centuries without anything like this happening means this is an extraordinary circumstance. Or they are extraordinary knights.”
“So murder or suicide.”
“You grasp these things so well,” the bishop said with a sigh. He knew Heden didn’t like it when he congratulated him on his insight, but he didn’t udnerstand why.
“So I figure out how he died and…do something about it.”
“You understand that if the death was unrighteous, justice may be very hard to attain. The whole order may bear some burden.”
“Yeah,” Heden said, turning away to look at one of the tapestries. “I understand that.”
“My apologies,” the bishop said. “I don’t mean to sound patronizing.” He wanted Heden to like him, and he suspected he didn’t. But like so much about this man, he didn’t know why.
“I know,” Heden said. “You can’t help it.”
The bishop flashed a smile again, vaguely aware he’d been insulted, but unsure how to respond. An awkward silence settled between them.
Heden felt bad for his early jibe, and filled the silence.
“Who’s their patron?”
“Halcyon,” the bishop said, raising an eyebrow.
Heden searched his memory and sunk back in the plush red chair. “I’m not familiar with the name, your Grace.”
“There’s no reason you should be. She’s one of a handful of saints who predate the Age of Saints. In her case, by almost a thousand years.”
Heden nodded.
“That’s how she has knights older than the Council.”
The bishop nodded once.
“What should I expect,” Heden asked.
The bishop spread his hands. “We’ve done quite a lot of research, none of it very helpful. They live in the forest, they fight all manner of creature, specializing in the kind of thing you used to do when you were younger,” he smiled in what he must have thought was a sign of camaraderie. “They have a reputation. It’s the environment, you see. Only the strong survive up there.
“We know precious little else. We’re trying to find someone who’s been up there and can tell us more. They report to the local barons, they have a priory. Apart from that, whatever’s happened must be…unusual. Deeply wrong, morally or perhaps spiritually. Otherwise we’d never have learned of it.”
“You could send the White Hart,” Heden said.
“I could,” the bishop agreed. “Especially if I wanted the Green Order hunted down and destroyed. The Hart are not that kind of tool, as well you know.”
“What are your wishes?” Heden asked.
“Only that you do what you think is right. You’re going to have to, ah, make a judgment on the spot, as it were.”
Heden shook his head, frustrated.
“Cavall has yet to reveal to me more than a sense that the order protects the people from the forest. From the things in the forest. And that they are critical to our safety.”
“That covers a lot,” Heden
Similar Books
