allowed freedom!” said Father Leopold.
“You have no evidence of the Banished,” said Henry. “You have no evidence of anything. Just hearsay.”
“We have evidence enough to question Thomas Flarety,” said Father Leopold. “And we demand that he be turned over to us. At once.”
“Demand?” repeated the king, a flicker of annoyance coming into his voice.
“We cannot allow the Banished control over men’s affairs,” said Father Leopold. “We will not allow such things to happen.”
“You have no evidence,” said Henry. “You have no authority, and you have no right to be making demands of the king!”
“The king must answer to the High Father in matters of the spirit!” Father Leopold quivered in righteous anger. “Thomas, by his actions, gave us the authority!”
“Actions for which you can’t produce a single witness!”
“Gentlemen!” Sir Walter’s voice cut through the room. “This is not a Court of Law and you will not practice your arguments here!”
“Thomas has been very silent,” said Father Alphonse in the silence that followed. “Thomas? Why are you not speaking?”
“Because I have not been asked a question yet,” lied Thomas. Because I cannot lie to the king. I swore an oath. “And I should very much dislike to speak out of turn.”
The king smiled again. “Law students. Always cautious with their words. Did I not say as much, Sir Walter?”
“You did, your Majesty,” said Sir Walter. “Though Lord Henry seems to lack that quality.”
“Then I’ll ask a question,” said Sir Alphonse. “When did you start practising witchcraft, Thomas?”
For a moment Thomas was back in the cell under the Church’s buildings, chained to the floor and staring at four soldiers ready to beat him senseless while Father Alphonse sat behind his little desk, droning questions over and over.
Thomas blinked and was back in the throne room. Father Alphonse was leaning on his staff and waiting for an answer. Thomas forced in a pair of breaths, forced all fear and anger out of his voice. “I never practised witchcraft,” said Thomas. “There is no such thing.”
“There is,” said Father Leopold. “I have seen it.”
“Really?” asked Sir Walter. “What have you seen?”
“I have seen the Beudlean tribes to the south using powers they raised from prayers to the Banished to fight the soldiers of the Church,” said Father Leopold. “I have seen men die under flame and the earth shake.” His eyes went to the king. “It is this that we must protect true believers from, your Majesty. It is for this that you must—”
“Did you actually see them praying to the Banished?” interrupted Henry.
“I did not need to see it,” said Father Leopold. “Only the Banished could grant such powers.”
“Funny,” said Henry. “Because when your Bishop Malloy prayed to the Banished for power, it didn’t work at all.”
“Father Malloy was not praying to the Banished,” said Father Alphonse. “He was praying to the High Father when Thomas murdered him.”
Thomas felt himself bristling. “Bishop Malloy,” he said through clenched teeth, “was cutting the throats of children and offering their blood to the Banished to give him power.” He forced in a breath and stared into Father Alphonse’s eyes. “And it didn’t work because there’s no such thing as witchcraft.”
“That is enough, gentlemen,” said the king, his voice soft.
“It is indeed,” said Father Leopold. “This boy must face the question, so that we may have the truth out of him!”
“I already faced the question,” said Thomas.
“Enough,” said the king again, his voice no louder, but the command in it unmistakable. “I will not have anyone calling my students liars.”
“They are liars,” said Father Leopold. “They lie, they brawl, they engage in debauchery at every opportunity, and now they are engaging in witchcraft.”
The knight stepped uncomfortably close to the envoy. “Watch your
“You have no evidence of the Banished,” said Henry. “You have no evidence of anything. Just hearsay.”
“We have evidence enough to question Thomas Flarety,” said Father Leopold. “And we demand that he be turned over to us. At once.”
“Demand?” repeated the king, a flicker of annoyance coming into his voice.
“We cannot allow the Banished control over men’s affairs,” said Father Leopold. “We will not allow such things to happen.”
“You have no evidence,” said Henry. “You have no authority, and you have no right to be making demands of the king!”
“The king must answer to the High Father in matters of the spirit!” Father Leopold quivered in righteous anger. “Thomas, by his actions, gave us the authority!”
“Actions for which you can’t produce a single witness!”
“Gentlemen!” Sir Walter’s voice cut through the room. “This is not a Court of Law and you will not practice your arguments here!”
“Thomas has been very silent,” said Father Alphonse in the silence that followed. “Thomas? Why are you not speaking?”
“Because I have not been asked a question yet,” lied Thomas. Because I cannot lie to the king. I swore an oath. “And I should very much dislike to speak out of turn.”
The king smiled again. “Law students. Always cautious with their words. Did I not say as much, Sir Walter?”
“You did, your Majesty,” said Sir Walter. “Though Lord Henry seems to lack that quality.”
“Then I’ll ask a question,” said Sir Alphonse. “When did you start practising witchcraft, Thomas?”
For a moment Thomas was back in the cell under the Church’s buildings, chained to the floor and staring at four soldiers ready to beat him senseless while Father Alphonse sat behind his little desk, droning questions over and over.
Thomas blinked and was back in the throne room. Father Alphonse was leaning on his staff and waiting for an answer. Thomas forced in a pair of breaths, forced all fear and anger out of his voice. “I never practised witchcraft,” said Thomas. “There is no such thing.”
“There is,” said Father Leopold. “I have seen it.”
“Really?” asked Sir Walter. “What have you seen?”
“I have seen the Beudlean tribes to the south using powers they raised from prayers to the Banished to fight the soldiers of the Church,” said Father Leopold. “I have seen men die under flame and the earth shake.” His eyes went to the king. “It is this that we must protect true believers from, your Majesty. It is for this that you must—”
“Did you actually see them praying to the Banished?” interrupted Henry.
“I did not need to see it,” said Father Leopold. “Only the Banished could grant such powers.”
“Funny,” said Henry. “Because when your Bishop Malloy prayed to the Banished for power, it didn’t work at all.”
“Father Malloy was not praying to the Banished,” said Father Alphonse. “He was praying to the High Father when Thomas murdered him.”
Thomas felt himself bristling. “Bishop Malloy,” he said through clenched teeth, “was cutting the throats of children and offering their blood to the Banished to give him power.” He forced in a breath and stared into Father Alphonse’s eyes. “And it didn’t work because there’s no such thing as witchcraft.”
“That is enough, gentlemen,” said the king, his voice soft.
“It is indeed,” said Father Leopold. “This boy must face the question, so that we may have the truth out of him!”
“I already faced the question,” said Thomas.
“Enough,” said the king again, his voice no louder, but the command in it unmistakable. “I will not have anyone calling my students liars.”
“They are liars,” said Father Leopold. “They lie, they brawl, they engage in debauchery at every opportunity, and now they are engaging in witchcraft.”
The knight stepped uncomfortably close to the envoy. “Watch your
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