Bearers of the Black Staff

“You are ever vigilant in finding both,” Bonnasaint observed, arching a perfectly formed eyebrow. “What is my role in advancing your special interests, Eminence?”


“My interests and yours run roughly parallel, Bonnasaint.” He gave the youth a broad smile. “In the sense that I still have people who are obstacles to my efforts and you still have skills for removing such obstacles, nothing has changed. I still require you.”

Bonnasaint executed a perfect bow, a graceful sweeping motion of one arm together with a downward cant of his slender body, an act of deference that could not be mistaken. “I am yours to command.”

“Then listen carefully. The Gray Man and the boy travel south from Glensk Wood to the larger villages to enlist support for our own citizens. They do my work for me, although they do not realize it. They set the stage for my ascension as leader of all the peoples of the valley. The Races will be persuaded to stand with me when it matters, although ultimately it will be for purposes of my own. Do you see?”

The boy shrugged. “You seek to increase your hold over them?”

Skeal Eile smiled indulgently. Bonnasaint knew just enough to appreciate the opportunities, but cared nothing for the reasons. It was one of his best qualities. “The teachings of the Children of the Hawk are the way and the life. No other considerations or causes must be allowed to diminish those teachings or my own stature as leader of the sect. Simple enough.”

“As you say,” the other acknowledged. “It is an honor to serve you, a privilege.”

“It is your calling, Bonnasaint. It is your destiny.”

The other inclined his smooth, boyish face. “What is it you require of me this time, Your Eminence?”

“A great sacrifice, Bonnasaint. A great risk that might cost you your life if you are the least bit careless. For I intend to give you a challenge that no other would even dare consider. Does the idea suit you?”

There was a momentary pause as the boy regarded him. From within the cottage, the soft cackle of the old man wafted through the silence. Listening, of course. Always watching over his talented son. “Father,” the boy said, an admonishing edge to the word. He kept his eyes fixed on Skeal Eile, and the latter could tell that the hesitation was born not of uncertainty, but of a desire to savor the moment.

“The idea suits me perfectly,” he replied. “What is it you wish me to do?”

“To come with me on a journey of our own, the kind you best prefer.”

Bonnasaint smiled. “Tell me more, Eminence.”

The Seraphic bent close.





TWENTY-TWO




PHRYNE AMARANTYNE WAS IN SUCH DISFAVOR WITH her father that she was forbidden to leave the city for any reason, assigned instead to work with Isoeld in caring for the sick and injured. Phryne tried reasoning with him, but he talked right over her attempts at an explanation, fixated on his belief that she had not only disobeyed him but lied to him, as well. She thought his conclusions unfair and wrong, but he was having none of it. Her punishment was decided. She was confined to the city for as long as he decided she needed to be confined. When she asked how long that might be, he told her he would let her know.

With that, things quickly spiraled out of control. Her patience exhausted and her back well and truly up, Phryne lost her temper completely. She called her father pigheaded and obtuse. She called him other things, too, much worse things that came out of her mouth in the heat of a shouting match that brought retainers running. They arrived just in time to witness her father break a vase that had been given to him by her mother, sweeping it aside from its resting place on his desk in a wild gesture that was meant to emphasize the extent of his rage.

After that, it was pretty much over. She was sent to her room and told to stay there until she could conduct herself in a civil manner, and she told him that he should stay right where he was in his office until he could do the same. She stormed out, flinging final threats back at him in response to his own threats, and by the end of the day the tale of their confrontation had grown to epic proportions and was being recounted with imaginative embellishments throughout the city.

By the following morning, both Phryne and her father were speaking again, albeit without warmth or much eye contact.