Rise of the Storm

7 Kendryk

After Kendryk dismissed his uncle, he sensed the crowd holding its breath, waiting for him to do something. He turned his attention to the priest, who still stood in front of the temple.

"I would speak with you alone, Father."

"Of course, Your Grace." Landrus made a small bow. "If the congregation will excuse me, we can go to my quarters in the temple."

"I'd like to speak to the people first. It doesn't seem right to just run off with you." Even though the fine mist had turned into a steady drizzle, no one standing in the square had moved.

Landrus nodded and stepped aside.

Kendryk climbed onto the crate and looked into hundreds of upturned faces.

"People of Runewald," he began and paused, unsure of how to continue.

From somewhere, a man shouted, "Three cheers for our prince, and for justice!" There were a few ragged cheers and more excited chatter.

Kendryk smiled and waited for them to quiet down. "I want to explain what just happened. The Duke of Emberg brought an improper order of arrest for Father Landrus."

"Improper because he shouldn't be arrested!" someone shouted.

Kendryk motioned for quiet. "You're at least partly right. The evidence brought against Father Landrus is far from complete. I will speak with him in private since I am sure this problem can be resolved between us."

Someone cheered again, and soon the rest had joined in.

"Now go home, good people." The rain was soaking his coat. "Father Landrus will be here for your next service." He hoped he could keep his word.

Landrus led the way into the temple. It was gloomy inside; the only light came from a bank of candles burning before the icons of the Holy Family at the front. They passed through a side door and along a stone corridor until they reached a small courtyard full of fruit trees in full bloom. Beside this stood a house made of light stone where the priest lived. It was dark inside by now, but Landrus lit a lamp which bathed the room in a soft glow. It smelled of beeswax and old books.

For the first time, Landrus looked uncomfortable. "Please be seated, Your Grace," he said. "I fear I have little to offer you by way of refreshment. My cook won't go to market until tomorrow, but she can bring us tea."

"Thank you," Kendryk said. "A hot drink sounds marvelous. And please don't apologize. I realize my visit is unexpected. I was hoping to hear you preach today without being recognized. If my uncle hadn't come, you wouldn't have noticed me at all."

Landrus showed Kendryk to a carved bench with a seat of soft, worn cushions, then stepped into a corridor and spoke to someone. Returning, he pulled up a plain wooden chair for himself. "I'm glad you were here or I would be on my way to the Imperata in chains. To be honest, I'm surprised you intervened. Your reputation indicates that you are devout, conservative and intolerant of criticism of the Temple."

"I try to be devout, and I'm not fond of change for its own sake. But I came today because I believe the Faith needs renewal. It's riddled with corruption and the people are apathetic."

"The state of the Faith is indeed worrisome." Landrus frowned. "I don't wish to be a reformer, but the need for change is urgent and someone must do it. I had hoped to accomplish enough within the rules of the Temple, but it seems the authorities don't approve."

He paused as a short, wide woman brought in a tea tray. She stared at Kendryk with round blue eyes, attempted a curtsy and nearly dropped the tray.

"Just give it to me, Girda." Landrus rescued the tray and placed it on a small table nearby.

Girda wrung her hands, made a small choking noise, bobbed again, then fled.

Kendryk grinned as Landrus poured the tea. "I'm sorry for frightening your cook."

Landrus smiled back and handed him a cup of fine Temple porcelain. "Oh, don't worry. This is the greatest day of her life. I'm sure she'll never tire of telling anyone who'll listen how she served the Prince of Terragand in the flesh."

"You're taking a great risk, you know." Kendryk took a careful sip of steaming tea. "I'm sure you're aware that those who publicly disagree with Temple dogma are often executed. With that in mind, I'd prefer to find a solution without involving outsiders. I suppose I must include Julia Maxima though I have an idea she would not approve of what you are doing."

"That's a kind way of putting it. I am convinced that Julia would be the first to send me to the Imperata if she knew what I was preaching. She has told me in no uncertain terms I must not reveal these things to the congregation."

"You've spoken with her about this?" This was worrisome. "If she has forbidden these teachings, I'm afraid she or I will have to arrest you soon. It seems my uncle acted within his rights though I deplore his methods. Why did you defy her?"

"At first the changes in Moralta gave me hope. When Lucian Maximus introduced the new teachings there, many of the clergy hoped they would be spread throughout the empire."

"Moralta is paying a dreadful price for its defiance. I'd rather not follow its lead." Talk of rebellion of any kind made Kendryk uneasy.

"To be fair, the Moraltan problem is more than just a religious one. Their nobility was quick to challenge Teodora's legitimacy. I take it you have no such plans."

"I do not." Though Kendryk had misgivings aplenty about Teodora Inferrara, he was unlikely to share them with anyone besides his wife.

"In that case, challenging the Temple is a separate matter and might be accomplished peacefully."

"But I don't agree that it's separate. With Teodora so interested in religious matters, I fear she will take any challenge to the Temple as a personal insult."

"She might," Landrus shrugged. "But she will have no legal basis for action."

"She doesn't need one. Teodora Inferrara does not strike me as the most rational creature. And it's safe to say that her closest adviser, Livilla Maxima, is a fanatic. I'm certain she orchestrated the brutal response to the Moraltan rebellion. I don't wish to be next."

Landrus sighed. "Your are making very reasonable arguments. The problem is this: what the Scrolls teach defies all reasonable thought and action. We stand on the edge of a precipice and if we don't act soon, we will follow our gods off it."

Kendryk sipped more tea while he gathered his thoughts. "I'm afraid I don't quite follow you." In truth, he feared he understood all too well, though he hoped he was mistaken. "I realize that you have had access to the Holy Scrolls and know things that the rest of us don't. But not everyone who's read them agrees with you. Take Acon Benet. I studied with him for a time, and he understood the Scrolls better than anyone. Yet, he mentioned none of these things."

"You studied with Benet? He was impressive. I was always sorry that I never got the chance to meet him while he lived. I have read everything he wrote, and he had a firm grasp of the truth, in his way."

"Benet was also an adept politician." Kendryk suddenly felt the loss of his teacher with a pang. "I don't believe he was content with the state of the Faith, but he was good at making small changes, and making them often, while upsetting no one."

"Unfortunately, I lack his gift of diplomacy. No, it's true," he added, as Kendryk opened his mouth to protest. "But the time for diplomacy has passed. We must change the Faith right now. There is no more time. The final battle fast approaches and if it comes upon us in our present state, I don't dare to think of the outcome."