Off Armageddon Reef by David Weber Page B

he contented himself with another snort and sat back in his chair.
    â€œWhatever the cause, at least you are here now, Erayk,” the third prelate observed, “so let’s get started, shall we?”
    â€œOf course, Wyllym,” Dynnys replied, not obsequiously, but without the insouciance he’d shown Cahnyr.
    Wyllym Rayno, Archbishop of Chiang-wu, was several years younger than Dynnys, and unlike a great many of Mother Church’s bishops and archbishops, he had been born in the province which had since become his archbishopric. He was short, dark, and slender, and there was something…dangerous about him. Not surprisingly, perhaps. While Dynnys, Cahnyr, and Myllyr all wore the white cassocks of their rank, Rayno, as always, wore the habit of a simple monk in the dark purple of the Order of Schueler. The bared sword of the order’s patron stood out starkly on the right breast of that dark habit, white and trimmed in orange to proclaim his own archbishop’s rank, but its episcopal white was less important than the golden flame of Jwo-jeng superimposed across it. That flame-crowned sword marked him as the Schuelerite Adjutant General, which made him effectively the executive officer of Vicar Zhaspyr Clyntahn, the Grand Inquisitor himself.
    As always, the sight of that habit gave Dynnys a slight twinge. Not that he’d ever had any personal quarrel with Rayno. It was more a matter of…tradition than anything else.
    Once upon a time, the rivalry between his own Order of Langhorne and the Schuelerites had been both open and intense, but the struggle for primacy within the Temple had been decided in the Schuelerites’ favor generations ago. The Order of Schueler’s role as the guardian of doctrinal orthodoxy had given it a powerful advantage, which had been decisively strengthened by the judicious political maneuvering within the Temple’s hierarchy which had absorbed the Order of Jwo-jeng into the Schuelerites. These days, the Order of Langhorne stood clearly second within that hierarchy, which made the Schuelerite practice of dressing as humble brothers of their order, regardless of their personal rank in the Church’s hierarchy, its own form of arrogance.
    Dynnys sat in the armchair awaiting him, Broun perched on the far humbler stool behind his archbishop’s chair, and Rayno gestured to one of the law masters.
    â€œBegin,” he said.
    â€œYour Eminences,” the law master, a monk of Dynnys’ own order, said, standing behind the neat piles of legal documents on the table before him, “as you all know, the purpose of the meeting of this committee of the Ecclesiastical Court is to consider a final recommendation on the succession dispute in the earldom of Hanth. We have researched the applicable law, and each of you has received a digest of our findings. We have also summarized the testimony before this committee and the documents submitted to it. As always, we are but the Court’s servants. Having provided you with all of the information available to us, we await your pleasure.”
    He seated himself once more, and Rayno looked around the conference table at his fellow archbishops.
    â€œIs there any need to reconsider any of the points of law which have been raised in the course of these hearings?” he asked. Heads shook silently in reply. “Are there any disputes about the summary of the testimony we’ve already heard or the documents we’ve already reviewed?” he continued, and, once again, heads shook. “Very well. Does anyone have anything new to present?”
    â€œIf I may, Wyllym?” Cahnyr said, and Rayno nodded for him to continue. The lean archbishop turned to look at Dynnys.
    â€œAt our last meeting, you told us you were still awaiting certain documents from Bishop Executor Zherald. Have they arrived?”
    â€œI fear not,” Dynnys said, shaking his head gravely.
    Zherald Ahdymsyn was officially