Hawkwood and the Kings: The Collected Monarchies of God (Volume One) by Paul Kearney

the drop of a hat, I might add. Abeleyn knows this too, as I hoped he would. With the Prelate on his way to the Synod at Charibon he has a breathing space. Already the burnings have abated, which is why you are here today, my friend. Only the hopelessly heretical are going to the pyre at the moment, but the catacombs are still filling. By the time the Prelate returns there will be thousands there awaiting his pleasure, and if the Synod approves his actions here then there will be nothing Abeleyn can do, unless he wants to be excommunicated. Worse, the Prelate of Abrusio will no doubt try to persuade the other Prelates of the Kingdoms to instigate similar purges in their own vicariates."
    "I have already written to Saffarac in Cartigella, warning him."
    "So have I. He can speak to King Mark. But there is another thing. Macrobius has not reappeared. He must be dead, so they will have to elect a new High Pontiff, a man who shows by his actions that he is not afraid to incur the ill-will of kings in the struggle to fulfil God's plans, a man who has the good of the Kingdoms at heart, who is willing to purify them with the fire."
    "Holy Saints! You're not telling me that maniac of ours has a chance?"
    "More than a chance. The damned fool cannot see further than his own crooked nose. He will bring down the west, Bard, if he has his way."
    "Surely the other Prelates will see this also."
    "Of course they will, but what can they say? They are each striving to outdo one another in zealousness. None of them will dare denounce our Prelate's actions in common-sense terms. He might face excommunication himself. There is a hysteria abroad with the fall of Aekir. The Church is like an old woman who's had her purse snatched. She longs to strike out, to convince herself that she is still all of a piece. And do not forget that almost twelve thousand of the Knights Militant went up in smoke along with the Holy City, so the Church's secular arm is crippled also. These clerics are afraid that their privileges are going to be swept away in the aftermath of the disaster in the east, so they make the first move to remind the monarchies that they are a force to be reckoned with. Oh, the other Prelates will jump at the chance to do something, I assure you."
    "So where does that leave us, the Dweomer-folk?" Bardolin asked.
    "In the shit, Bard. But here in Abrusio at least there is a slim ray of hope. I talked with Abeleyn last night. Officially we never see one another these days, but we have our ways and means. He has intimated that there may be an escape route for some of our folk. He is hiring ships to transport a few fortunates away from these shores to a safe place."
    "Where?"
    "He would not tell me. I have to trust him, he says, the whelp. But he does not want our sort fleeing wholesale into the hands of the Merduk, as you can imagine."
    "Gabrion?" Bardolin said doubtfully. "Narbosk maybe? Not the Hardian Provinces, surely. Where else is there that is not under the thumb of the Church?"
    "I don't know, I tell you. But I believe him. He is twice the man his father was. What I am saying, Bard, is would you be willing to take ship in one of these vessels?"
    Bardolin sipped his brandy. "Have you put this to the Guild?"
    "No. The news would be out on the streets in half an hour. I am approaching people I trust, personally."
    "And what about the rest? Is it just we mages who are to be offered this way out, Golophin? What about the humbler of our folk, the herbalists, the oldwives - even shifters like poor Griella there? Have they a choice?"
    "I must do what I can, Bard. I will not be going. I stay here to save as many of them as I can. Abeleyn will hide me, if it comes to that, and there are others of the nobility with sons and daughters in training with the Guild who are, naturally, sympathetic to our cause. It may be that we will be able to evacuate a shipload from time to time and sail them out to whatever bucolic utopia you will have carved out of the