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Reva paused at the empty chair, naturally the most ornate in the room with an ahed and pushed it out of her way Can’t kill him twice, more’s the pity
“No, ood bishops’ privacy Leave us, for we have much to discuss”
They sat in du booe of respect stripped froht ues “We had not yet counted the ballots, my lady” He indicated a plain wooden box in the centre of the table
“Then do so now”
Reva studied hi she remembered his face froed the old gestion; Marken’s revelations left no room for accommodation I have no friends in this room
“The Bishop of the Southern Parish,” the thin bishop reported after counting the ballots “By unanimous assent”
Reva scanned the faces around the table, finding six scared oldancient who hadn’t raised his head since her entry “Who is?” she enquired
The thin bishop cleared his throat in discoh and turned her back on hiaze drawn to a candlelit alcove at the rear of the chae tos flaking and cracked with age The first to be bound in the land of Cu of awe at the sight Just a collection of old books in a roo back to the table, “what I believe to be a complete list of adherents to the heretical sect known as the Sons of the Trueblade In due course each and every name on this list will be captured and put to the question I aiven the wealth of intelligence they are sure to provide”
She scanned each face in turn, finding confusion on most, but fear on others They knew, she realised Not all, but some She sa the Bishop of the Southern Parish avoided her gaze, a few beads of sweat forht; there were no allies here
She walked slowly around the table, watching each stooped back flinch as she passed by She wore no weapons today, having returned her grandfather’s sword to its place in the library, but had little doubt she could snap every neck in this room should she choose She halted behind the chair occupied by the Reader-elect and pointed at the ballots neatly piled at his side “Give me those” His spotted, bony hands tre to retrieve the to fumble the,’” she quoted as she took the ballots fro her favourite She turned and walked slowly back to the alcove, ballots in hand “‘The paths set for us by the Father areAt every turn the Loved find themselves presented with a plethora of choices as their paths fork, split by war or famine, love and betrayal To walk the varied paths of life without deception is i the ballots to one of the candles, letting the fla them onto the stone floor where they continued to burn, soon no more than a swirl of black cinders
“‘But,’” she told the bishops with a sives the lie spoken in kindness, or service to a greater purpose’”
She stood, the sle voice to be raised in dissent But they all just sat and stared, stoking her anger with their dumb inaction This venal church collaborated with murderers, she knew Allied thehter and slavery to this land The people of this city would hang you all from the towers of this cathedral if I wished it I won their love, whilst you cowered here and prayed for miracles that never came With sword and boon their love
One word to Arentes and it would be done, the bishops dragged outside, charges read as the people looked on and she fired their rage with a feell-chosen truths They were all killers now, save the children and even they were hardened to the sight of death There would be no protest, no hand raised to stop her, and she would have what the priest once made her lust for, a new church to be moulded into her father’s vision
My er, replacing it with a weary realisation They had lost so much, but the church had endured for centuries and this land would not heal if she ripped open yetaith a bleary-eyed glance around the roo stick on the table
Revascowl “And whohimself up, “am the Holy Bishop of” He frowned in confusion, his shoulders slu his lips “The Bishop of”
“The Riverland Parish,” the bishop at his side supplied in a tense whisper
“Yes!” The ancient bishop brightened, fixing Reva with an ilare “I am the Bishop of the Riverland Parish and I demand my lunch”