The Songs of Loss, book one : Armanth

Chapter 14- The Ordinatorii

Things weren't at all going according to plan.

Jawaad scratched his chin, seemingly unperturbed, staring at the man who had just introduced himself. Neatly groomed, with a straight back and a confident, haughty bearing, the pale-skinned Athémaïs, with short, curly hair barely out of boyhood, wore a long black chasuble edged in white over a plain tunic of the same color, reaching below the knee and embroidered with chamarré highlights. His shoulders were girded with a broad stole, also black with gold edging, marked with the white circle symbolizing the Council. Around his neck hung the same silver circle, symbolizing the dreaded Church of which he was a priest.

Beside him, two Ordinatorii sported the same tones, black edged with white, in martial finery. Clad in dark, linotorci-reinforced leather cuirass, they wore scarlet-red shirts with puffed sleeves, falling in long strips over their wide black pants. Finally, their faces were concealed by a Greek helmet with a blood-colored horsehair plume. They stood watch over the Church envoy, long spears in hand, swords at their sides; imperturbable in their absolute devotion to their sacred service, they looked like two menacing statues.

There was no mistaking the rank and nature of the man in front of Jawaad, flanked by his bodyguards. He was well aware that others were lurking around the square in plainclothes, hidden in the crowds and alleyways surrounding the square, waiting for a single sign to swoop in like a cloud to defend their master.

The master merchant frowned in displeasure and doubt, glancing briefly at Azur, who, rightly frightened by the Ordinatori and his guards, remained hidden behind his shoulder, but he didn't seek confirmation. He was already perfectly sure: it wasn't Franello. Things were taking a particularly unexpected turn...

***

"The message got through, Jawaad. I thought Narwin would have an apoplexy before we were done."

Damas leaned against the doorframe, watching Jawaad busying himself at his desk amidst a number of papers. The couriers had delivered numerous missives and letters, many of which the master merchant had crumpled up and disdainfully discarded; it was reasonable to wonder if he had even read them. The latter looked up, abandoning his sorting to stare at his boatswain.

"And?"

"Campo Annuciante, at the end of the day. Not exactly the best place for a public meeting..."

Jawaad nodded, straightening to turn his head toward his balcony, staring at the sky for a moment in thought:

"Not the worst either. Have you made any arrangements?"

"Six men who know how to be discreet, two with pulse pistols, a third who knows how to throw a dagger; but there'll be a crowd at this hour. It's an ideal trap if he wants to end it cleanly and without a trace."

"Abba will watch over my back and I'll take Azur."

Damas nodded in turn, but his gaze on the master merchant didn't hide his doubts.

"I am not Abba. I don't fear these people or their gods and beliefs. They're just men; but Abba's right about one thing: this really is a dangerous game, even in Armanth. If it ever goes wrong, if we ever touch an Ordinatori, I wouldn't put much stock in our skins after that..."

"We'll have a chat. Jawaad turned his dark gaze on the Jemmaï: and what's true in their sense is true in ours; no one touches a Guild master-merchant with impunity and Franello knows full well what he incurs if he tries. We'll be on an equal footing." Jawaad added a faint smile to his words, to back them up: "and I'm not bringing Abba, my psyke and you here for nothing."

Damas sighed and stared at Jawaad. He wasn't convinced, and made no secret of it. The Ordinatorii had one thing in common with his proud friend and boss: they considered themselves above laws and codes, wherever they might be, and rightly so, since the Church placed it as dogma that the word of any Ordinatori supersedes that of any other authority, whether it emanates from the most insignificant barracks orderly or an emperor. Even within the city walls of the Merchants' Guild, which for the last thirty years had forced the Church to recognize and submit to the laws of the Elegio and the Council of Peers, each of its priests still thought with this dogma in mind, reinforced by the influence of their word on the aristocracy and the people. The weight of the Church extended to world of Loss wherever it went. Its authority was the law over more than half of the great city-states of the Seas of Separation, and the legions in its service represented tens of thousands of men, if not more. The only organization that could modestly compare with such power was the Merchants' Guild, which controlled the seas, trade and islands of the entire South, but the Council and its banner were the Law and the divine word, which no one could ignore and which inspired legitimate fear in even the most atheistic of lossyans. An Ordinatori was undoubtedly as untouchable as a Master Merchant, and far more dangerous.