The Invasion of the Tearling

“Your own failure to marry sets a terrible example for young women everywhere. I have heard speculation that you may have homosexual sympathies yourself.”


“Indeed, Your Holiness, the sexual freedom of consenting adults is the greatest threat this kingdom has ever faced,” Kelsea replied acidly. “God knows how we’ve lasted so long.”

The Holy Father was not derailed. “And most recently, Majesty, I have been informed that you mean to tax the Arvath, like any secular body, on its landholdings. But surely this must be a mistake.”

“Ah, so we finally come to it. No mistake, Your Holiness. God’s Church is a landholder like any other. Beginning in February, I will expect monthly payments on all of your property.”

“The Church has always been exempt from taxation, Majesty, all the way back to David Raleigh. The exemption encourages good works and selflessness on the part of our brothers.”

“You reap profit from your land, Your Holiness, and despite your mandate, you’re not a charitable institution. I don’t see the vast bulk of your income flowing back to the public.”

“We distribute bread to the poor, Majesty!”

“Well done. Saint Simone herself could hardly do more.” Kelsea leaned forward, trying to soften the edge in her voice. “However, since you bring up the point, I have an offer for you.”

“What is that?”

“If my estimates are correct, by the end of July, most of the Tearling will be housed at the Caddell Camp outside the walls. When the Mort come, all of the displaced will need to be brought into the city.”

“That will make New London terribly crowded, Majesty.”

“Indeed, and since you claim to be a charitable institution, I thought you could show some of that Christian spirit by providing food and housing as well.”

“Housing?”

“I will be opening the Keep to refugees, but you have the second largest building in New London, Your Holiness. Nine floors, and I’m told that only two of them are actually used for housing.”

“How do you know that?” the Holy Father asked angrily, and Kelsea was dismayed to see him shoot a glare at Father Tyler. “The Arvath is sacrosanct.”

“Seven empty floors, Your Holiness,” she pressed on. “Think how many displaced people you could house and feed.”

“There is no extra space in the Arvath, Majesty.”

“In return,” Kelsea continued, as though he had not spoken, “I would be willing to consider all of the Church’s New London property as charitable, and forgive the tax on those landholdings.”

“Only New London?” The Holy Father burst out laughing, an unexpected sound from his mirthless face. “New London constitutes only a tiny fraction of our property, Majesty. Now, if you were willing to throw in our holdings in the northern Almont, there might be an arrangement to make.”

“Ah, yes … your farmlands. Where the poor work for pennies a day and their children start in the fields at the age of five. Charitable property indeed.”

“These people would otherwise have no employment at all.”

Kelsea stared at him. “And that allows you to sleep at night?”

“I sleep well enough, Majesty.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Majesty!” Father Tyler stood up abruptly, his face panic-stricken. “I must use the restroom. Excuse me.”

Somewhere during the argument, Milla had slid a dessert plate in front of Kelsea: cheesecake dotted with strawberries. Kelsea made quick work of it; it wasn’t one of Milla’s best efforts, but there really was no bad cheesecake, and even Kelsea’s temper was not enough to blunt her appetite. Mace gave her a pleading glance, but Kelsea shook her head. While she chewed, she cast surreptitious glances at her guards, wondering for whom that remark about homosexuality had been meant. Perhaps, like so many things in God’s Church, the Holy Father had simply produced it from thin air, but Kelsea didn’t think so; it was too odd a claim. And was it any of her business anyway? According to Carlin, the institutionalized homophobia of the pre-Crossing had wasted vast amounts of time and resources. Barty, with characteristic practicality, always said that God had better things to worry about than what happened between the sheets.