“Listen to me!”� The old Friar called, his voice hoarse from the frosty air. �”Hear my words for they are true! The days of the caretaker kings are numbered... One of the Blood shall take up the Crown! The True King shall ascend the Throne... HE is coming!”�

The old man shook his finger in the face of a young Initiate, one of a small group being herded along by an older monk on their way to the Cathedral across the square.

“Pay no attention Kyle.”� The Monk took the youth by his shoulder and steered him around the friar. �”There is no truth in his words.”�

“No truth!”� The old man turned red with anger �”You wouldn't know Truth if it bit ye in the arse ye fool!”�

The monk ignored him and led his clutch across the square.

“HE IS COMING!”� Roared the Friar �”And all shall bow to one of the Blood! The time is near!”�


“You really should do something to shut him up.”� A gravelly voice growled.

Bishop Durr, who had been standing some way off, by a street cart peddling mulled wine, jumped, startled out of his reverie by the voice.

Turning he saw the hulking form of Roland Ferris, his mailed shoulders and grizzled beard barely concealed by an ancient and threadbare robe.

Durr shook his head. �”I'm supposed to be incognito. How am I suppose to pass unnoticed with a grim giant like you following me around like a shadow?”�

Ferris looked him up and down with a critical eye. �”Not much of a disguise if ye ask me. Ye look like a guilty husband sneakin out ta meet his mistress.”�

Durr glanced down at his own attire, middle class tunic, trousers and boots and hooded great cloak. �”I was going for prosperous merchant.”� He grumbled, brushing some mud from the dark wool. �”What are you doing here?”� He asked

“My job, following you around an keepin ye out of trouble, your Eminence.”� Ferris replied before taking a draw from the cup of wine.

“Shush!”� Durr hissed �”I do not wish to be known.”�

”Why? Afraid ye might give him,”� Ferris nodded at the old Friar who was presently accosting a woman and her two children with his message. �”Some credence?�”

Durr grunted and turned and handed his empty wine cup back to the vendor. �”Come on. It's getting damn cold.”�

Ferris tossed off his drink, returned the cup and followed his master across the square to a side alley that led back to the stables and barracks behind the Cathedral.

“That is part of the reason.”� Durr conceded as they walked.

“Why not lock the old bugger up?”� Ferris asked �”Its treasonous, what he's prattlin on about. End of the government, last of the Kings.”�

“Last of the Caretaker Kings.”� Durr corrected

“Yeah, right. Like there are anymore of the Blood left.”� Ferris snorted

“That's the problem, there may be.”� Durr said softly, lowering his voice as the walked, hunched against the late winter wind.

Ferris opened his mouth to speak, but a raised finger from the older man silenced him.

They passed down the alley, stepping to avoid the frozen puddles and still steaming horse manure. The alley opened into a courtyard, lined on three sides with stables and barns. It was to one of the barns that Durr now went.

The courtyard was busy with activity, Sacarium guards and stable boys were grooming and exercising the horses, a blacksmith and farrier worked on a restive stallion as his owner whispered in its ear and stroked it soothingly. None commented on or made an effort to stop the two hooded figures that passed quietly through. They were noticed and noted, but the hulking form of Roland Ferris, Captain of the Sacarium Guard was well known to all here, and all knew better then to question him when he was obviously about some business of his own.

The pair entered the barn and passed the rows of tack and grain bins, making their way back to a storeroom in the rear. Entering the dim and musty storeroom, filled with old tack and tools, they came to a narrow and partly concealed door. Durr produced a key and unlocked the door, murmuring a password as he did so. A rumble was heard, then the door opened. The room beyond was illuminated by the steady glow of mage light. It was a spartan room of stone with a bench, several hooks and a free standing wardrobe. Another door was set in the opposite wall.

Durr removed his cloak and hung it on a hook. Ferris did the same. Turning to the door they had entered by, the Bishop touched it with the key and whispered another password. Immediately the door locked, then, with a slight rumble, a stone panel slid down and sealed the doorway completely.

“So, what is the problem?”� Ferris asked as Durr began changing from his street attire back into his robes. �”Do you believe that crap about Treldar?”�

Durr didn't even look up as he pulled his boots on.

“Menachum Kudrun was a Lord of the Velitar. He was one of the Blood, whatever else he might have been. His descendant, if such are alive, would also be one of the Blood.”�

“Then Treldar really is a descendant of Kudrun?”� Ferris asked incredulously.

“He seems to think so.”� Durr replied

“If thats true then there have been descendants of Kudrun's walking around since before the Death, why wait so long to come forward and claim the Throne?”�

“I don't know.”� Durr said, looking up �”The internal politics of Khun Dhagra are hard to follow, even for those on the inside. Poison and a blade in the back are very common.”�

�”If this is true, even if there is a chance its true, why do you let that old fool prattle on out there?”� Ferris demanded

�”Friar Norrin?”� The Bishop stared off into space for a moment. �”Does the name 'Gregus' Yossarian Gregus, mean anything to you?”

The big fighter frowned, thinking. �”No, I can't say that it does. Should it?”�

”No, I suppose not. It would be difficult to find many in the Cathedral who would recognize the name. It is an embarrassment to the Church, one that was hushed up many long years ago...”� Durr paused. �”I myself only came across the records by accident, back in my days as an Abbot... Gregus was a charismatic monk, who, in 198 began speaking of visions and dreams he'd had and claimed to be a Prophet. He told that the end was near, that the Lords of the Velitar had violated the Compact and would soon be punished... He foretold the end of their line and an end of the ruling house. As I'm sure you can imagine his words were not popular with the Powers that Be.”�

”I can see how it could be a problem.”� Ferris agreed dryly.

“This went on for several years. Church leaders spoke to him on more then one occasion, tried to calm him down, but his message became all the more strident as time went on. At last the Crown lost patience and ordered the Church to do something. In 205 a special Ecclesiastical Court was convened here in Drunmore to try Gregus for Blasphemy, Heresy and Treason.”�

“I should say so.”� Ferris nodded, �”If such nonsense were to gain coin the rule of law might breakdown entirely.”�

“Aye, that was exactly the position the Crown took.”� Durr nodded. �”The problem was, Gregus wasn't lying or seeking to undermine the Crown, he was merely telling what he believed. What he believed Mitra himself had told him. The Trial went on for four days, the Court could not convict him of Blasphemy, there is scripture supporting the role of Prophecy. They could not convict him of Heresy. He did not speak against the Church or Doctrine. They could not convict him of Treason, he did not advocate any harm to the Crown, merely recounted his Dreams. So, unable to convict him, but unwilling to let his voice be heard, Gregus was locked away in a cell at the monastery of Lonath.”�

“So? What was the problem?”�

”Don't you remember your history Roland?”� Durr smiled. �”Do you remember what happened in 211?”�

Ferris frowned, book learning had never been his strength. �”Uhmmm, the Plague?”�

“That's right, six years after he was imprisoned, Gregus' prophecies began to come true. The Death scoured the land and all the Lords of the Velitar and their families, along with countless thousands, died.”�

“I see, so what happened? Did they let him out?”�

“To ensure that Gregus could not spread his falsehoods, the order was given that an iron collar, enchanted with a permanent spell of silence, be welded around his neck. The door to his cell was solid, except for a slot for food and his waste bucket. None were allowed to see him. No communication was permitted. He was locked in solitude and silence. Given his daily allowance of food. A new robe twice a year, a monthly allotment of candles and scripture to read. No human contact.”�

“They let him out, right?”� Ferris asked sharply

“The Council that had ordered his imprisonment had done so in secret. He had violated no law, there was no justification for their actions. No official record was made, only a few notes in a journal of one of the members. Then, early in 212 the Death swept through Drunmore, all three members of the Council died within days of each other.”�

“You mean?”�

“Yes, there was no record of Gregus' imprisonment. No one alive in Drunmore knew it had occurred and no one in Lonath knew who he was or why he was there. And, of course, they couldn't communicate with him because of the enchantments and the written orders, which they had no reason to question.”�

“Mitra!”� Ferris shook his head. �”What happened to him?”�

“In 228, during an audit of Lonath's finances and records, such as occurs when a new Abbot takes control, the Inquisitor questioned the entries for food, clothes and candles for the �Prisoner� When it was explained to him what the circumstances were, he asked to see the written orders. After perusing them the Inquisitor brought copies back to Drunmore for review. There it was discovered that Brother Gregus had in fact been acquitted and should never have been imprisoned at all, much less held for twenty three years. The Inquisitor returned to Lonath with an order for his immediate release, but Gregus was dead. He died the very day the order for his release was signed.”�

“Twenty three years eh? I can understand why the Church finds that a wee embarrassing. Is that why you won't lock up Norrin?”�

“Yes, Roland. That is why I won't lock up Friar Norrin.”�

“So you think he may be right? Like Gregus was?”�

“I can't say. There have been other examples of Prophecy in our history. Many were false, but others, like Gregus...”� Durr trailed off thinking.

“Isn't there someway you can test it? To see if he is telling the truth? The Inquisitors do it all the time in court.”�

“Yes they do, but it isn't as easy it would seem. Consider a simple case. Two farmers come to court to quarrel over a cow. One farmer claims the other stole his cow. After all it wound up in the second farmer's field. The second farmer claims he didn't steal it, that in fact he found it wandering loose and brought it in to care for it.

Did the farmer steal the cow? Suppose the Inquisitor asks �Did you steal the cow from farmer A?� And farmer B says 'No I found it loose on the road.' And suppose the Truthsayer shows that this is true, what would you think?”�

Ferris frowned, �”That Farmer B was telling the truth and didn't steal the cow.”�

“So it would seem. But consider this chain of events as actually happening. Farmer B arranges for his son to open the gate to Farmer A's field, allowing the cow to wander out. Farmer B then 'finds' the cow wandering loose and puts it in his field.”�

“So he did steal it.”�

“Yes, but unless you asked the right question the truth would not have come out. Suppose instead that the Inquisitor had asked �Did you in anyway contrive to remove the cow from the possession of Farmer A with the intent of making it your own?”�

“I see. So when questioning Friar Norrin you would have to be very careful as to how you phrase the question.”�

“Yes, that is true,”� Durr nodded �”But the difficulty goes even deeper. Suppose you ask the Friar if he genuinely had dreams and visions of the content he describes and he says yes. And the Truthsayer tells you that this is true. What it doesn't tell you is if the dreams and visions are an accurate Prophecy. You could ask the Friar if HE believes them to be an accurate Prophecy... And if the Truthsayer shows he does? What does that prove?”�

“Surely there must be another way to test it? What about Divination? You could use that.”�

“Yes, we could try that. But Mitra seems curiously reluctant to comment on this matter.”�
“Seems?”� Ferris stared at the Bishop �”You mean, you've already tried Divination?”�

Durr didn't answer, instead he opened the other door and led the way up the steps that lay beyond.

The top of the steps was barred by a gate which opened into a guard room. Four Sacarium Guardmen waited, powerful crossbows in hand, watching impassively as the two men climbed to the landing.

�Stand fast and identify yourself.� The Sargent in command called as the crossbows were leveled at Durr and Ferris. �”Place your right hand on the white stone and speak your name.”� As he spoke he took hold of a chain that hung, partly concealed from those on the other side of the gate. A slight tug and the two intruders would die instantly...

To the right of the gate, mounted in the wall, was a white rock of irregular but rounded shape, about the size of a melon. The white marble had been worn smooth by literally centuries of use. Durr placed his hand on the stone and said, �”Vathak Durr, Bishop of Drunmore.”�

This announcement was followed by a low, clear peal and the stone glowed briefly and warmly.

He then stepped aside and let Ferris step in. �”Roland Ferris, Captain of the Sacarium Guard.”�

Again came the peal of sound and the flash of light.

The Sargent nodded and stepped clear of the chain and moved to a lever which, when raised, unlocked the gate and allowed it to swing open. The Guards all pointed their weapons at the ceiling and saluted.

“Your Eminence. Captain.”� The Sargent spoke for his men.

“Sargent.”� Durr nodded and smiled pleasantly as they waited for the gate to close and lock again. The door from the guard chamber into the Cathedral proper could not be opened until the gate was closed and locked.

The hallway beyond was but lightly used, but there were several clerks passing by as the two men came out of the guardroom. They bowed to the Bishop before hurrying on. Durr waved an acknowledgment then turned and said, �”Good day to you Captain, I will see you at supper.”�

Ferris opened his mouth, clearly wanting to ask Durr about the Divination again, but he realized that there would be no answer forthcoming and gave it up.

“Good day to you, your Eminence. Till supper then.”� He bowed and watched the old man walk away. �”Damn.”� He muttered.