Aisa would have liked to hear more, but in that moment Coryn noticed her in the doorway and shooed her out.
Each time the Mace returned from one of these expeditions without the two priests, he seemed more discouraged. Aisa thought it likely that Father Tyler was dead, for it seemed unlikely that the timid priest could hide for long. She wasn’t the only one who held this view, but no one quite dared say so to the Mace. They had learned to leave him alone at such times, but today, as soon as the Mace collapsed in one of the chairs around the table, he began bellowing.
“Arliss! Get out here!”
The words reverberated through the floor of the audience chamber.
“Arliss!”
“Be patient, you thick bastard!” Arliss shouted down the corridor. “I can’t run!”
The Mace settled into a hunch, an ugly look on his face. His inability to find the two priests was only part of the problem, Aisa thought. The real problem was the empty silver throne. The Queen’s absence weighed on all of them, but heaviest on the Mace. Aisa thought that, beneath his impassive exterior, the Captain might be suffering even more than Pen.
Arliss dragged himself from the mouth of the corridor. “Yes, Mr. Mace?”
“What’s the latest from the Holy Father?”
“Another message this morning. Unless we produce Father Tyler and renew the Arvath’s property tax exemption, he threatens to expel us all from the Church.”
“Who is ‘us’?”
“The entire Keep, from the Queen on down.”
The Mace chuckled, rubbing his red eyes with one hand.
“It’s no laughing matter, man. I’ve got no use for God, but this place is full of devout people. There are practicing Christians in the Guard. They will care, even if you don’t.”
“If they’re fool enough to take the word of God from that piece of shit in the Arvath, they deserve the flames.”
Arliss shrugged, though Aisa could see he would have liked to say more.
“They demanded only Father Tyler? Not Father Seth?”
“Only Father Tyler. And the bounty has doubled again.”
“Strange. Still no word on what happened when he fled the Arvath?”
“A scuffle. Some sort of alarm in the Holy Father’s chambers. That’s all I could dig up.”
“Strange,” the Mace repeated.
“By the way, he’s no longer Father Tyler, or even the Keep priest, in these little missives. The Holy Father’s given him a new name.”
“What’s that?”
“The Apostate.”
The Mace shook his head. “Anything else while I was gone?”
“Another village was attacked in the foothills.”
“What kind of attack?”
Arliss shook his head. “We only have two survivors, sir, and their reports don’t make much sense, monsters and ghosties. Give me a few more days.”
“Fine. What else?”
Arliss turned to Elston, who suddenly looked acutely uncomfortable.
“We have to talk about Pen, sir,” he muttered.
“What about Pen?”
Elston looked down, searching for words, and Arliss took over.
“The boy’s been drinking too much—”
“I know.”
“I’m not finished. Last night he got into a brawl. A public brawl.”
Aisa’s eyes widened, but she said nothing, lest they remember she was there and shoo her out, as Coryn had the other day.
Pen, she thought, and shook her head, almost sadly.
“Lucky he was in one of my gaming pubs, or he might have been killed. He took on five men without a sword. As it is, he’s taken a good beating. I tried to keep it quiet, but news will probably leak out. It always does.”
“Where is he?”
“In the quarters, sleeping it off.”
The Mace stood, his face grim.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Elston said miserably. “I’ve tried to wrangle him, but—”
“Never mind, El. This mess I made myself.”
The Mace headed down the hallway toward the guard quarters, moving in vast, purposeful strides. After a moment, Elston followed, then Coryn and Kibb, and Aisa trailed warily behind them. They reached the far end of the hallway, and were brought up short by the sharp crack! of a palm smacking flesh.
“Get your ass up!”
Pen mumbled something.
“We’ve coddled you long enough, you lovesick brat. Get out of that bed, or I will kick you out, and I won’t be careful what I break on the way. You’re embarrassing yourself and this guard. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Why?”
“I picked you, you little shit!” the Mace roared. “Do you think you’re the only boy I saw on the streets who was good with a blade? I picked you! And now you fold, right when I need you the most!”
Pen mumbled something else. He was still drunk, Aisa realized, or at least deeply hungover. She had heard a similar mush of words from Da many times. Now, louder: “I’m a close guard, and you don’t need a close guard.” Pen’s voice rose. “We sit here, doing nothing, while she’s over there! There’s no one for me to guard!”
Wood splintered, and there was a thump, followed by Pen’s bellow of pain.