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The Kahanne
Part 3
Several hours passed. Arlyne, Chancellor Yarena Hanser, her husband Lawrence, the district governors and their spouses, and the High Clerics were lounging in a private sitting room in Hansehaven Castle. The place was comfortable and was furnished to suit the needs of visiting dignitaries. Finely woven tapestries depicting images of the sea and the central highlands covered the cold stone walls, testaments to a mercantile tradition that predated the formation of the Hanse. A soft red carpet was laid over the floor. The aristocrats and religious leaders stood about in small clumps conversing amicably. The informal atmosphere was a welcome break from the morning’s arduous service.
Chancellor Hanser, her husband Lawrence, and Arlyne were seated around a short table.
“Holy One,” began Chancellor Hanser, “if I may be so bold, I must commend you on your grasp of our dialect. I didn’t expect it.”
Arlyne acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod. “If I am to function as the spiritual leader for all Halcyon, I must communicate in a manner that the masses understand. How else am I to guide them in their efforts to achieve Communion? I am aware that Ghaultic is taught in your schools, but I doubt that it sees everyday use so far from the Ghaultian frontier.”
Lawrence mumbled softly into his beard. “I bet the Ghaultians don’t extend the same courtesy to us.”
The Kahanne cocked her head at him. “You bet correctly.”
Chancellor Hanser’s eyes flared at her husband, who spluttered, “Forgive me, Holy One, I — I meant no offense. I just —”
A smile played on Arlyne’s lips. “No offense was taken. It has been some time since I considered myself Ghaultian.” Lawrence breathed easier, though his wife was still angry. The Kahanne continued, pretending not to notice. “As I indicated, I believe that to connect with the… what is the term… ah, common folk, one must speak in a voice they can hear. It is a sharp departure in policy from my predecessor, who maintained that Ghaultic should be universally spoken. Granted, the text of Ahenak’s Codices is Old Ghaultic, but its modern derivative should not be considered holy.”
The leaders of the Hanse shuddered at the thought of being forced to speak the language of their historic enemy. Nearly six hundred years had passed the first separatists left Ghault, and the use of Ghaultic as a spoken language had been suppressed ever since.
Lawrence was about to mutter another comment but a glance from his wife held him in check. The chancellor decided to change the topic of conversation. “I can’t imagine the emotional drain involved in leading a ceremony like we had this morning,” she commented.
“One adapts,” replied Arlyne.
They were interrupted by a high cleric. He had wispy, thinning brown hair and was clad in the red robes of Rukh. “Holy One, forgive the intrusion,” he started in broken Hansic, “but I want to bid you a good night.” He turned to his hosts as if he had just noticed them for the first time. “And to you, as well, Chancellor and… uh…” he searched in vain for the right word “... Chancellor’s husband.”
Lawrence raised a meaty hand to cover his smirk. The chancellor responded in Ghaultic, “Thank you, High Cleric.”
The Kahanne nodded slightly and added, “May Rukh lull you to a peaceful rest this night.”
“Thank you, Holy One.” He bowed his head in the manner that was expected of someone who received the blessing of a Spirit.
The high cleric left and Arlyne returned to their discussion. “When I was an acolyte I found it difficult to envision myself as little more than a minor cleric in the service of the temple at Castle Ghault.”
“Speaking of Castle Ghault, how is your father?” inquired Lawrence. “Our last direct correspondence with him had to have been at least two years ago.”
Arlyne’s tone became slightly cold when she answered. “He is… well, thanks to Teyull.” The three of them bowed their heads once in deference to the Spirit she invoked. “We rarely communicate. I try to distance myself from him.”
“He is your father,” Lawrence pointed out.
Arlyne was pensive for a moment. This was hardly the time to discuss the chilly relationship she had with her father, though she knew it was the subject of numerous rumors. Instead, she replied, “True, but he is also the Padishah of the Republic of Ghault, and as the Kahanne of Assize I must take care not to show any favoritism to him whatsoever. Such a task is already compounded by the fact that Assize is located so deep within the Republic. Often I feel that my administration, far more than previous ones, has taken greater care to ensure the equal treatment of all the countries.”
A smile peeked out from under Lawrence’s beard. “One adapts.”
Arlyne snuck a quick sip from her drink. “Indeed.”
“You made some interesting comments about tradition,” mentioned the chancellor. “It would seem that our two peoples have more in common than we thought.”
Arlyne shrugged. “Perhaps, but you should not dwell on it. My views reflect those of the religious establishment, not Ghaultian politics. Believe me, much goes on in that country to create a sizable gulf between it and everyone else.”
“Our Commonwealth ambassador at Valor’s Keep has been trying to get his counterpart to open up, but so far he’s been unsuccessful.” The chancellor frowned. “I would give up my title and land to know what goes on behind that wall.”
Arlyne allowed herself a mild chuckle. “The Republic sealed itself behind that barrier decades ago. Since then, no one has been able to export any substantial information, and those of us who have passes to travel abroad are sworn to speak nothing of what we know. Imagine that! I, the representative of the Forum, must yield to their earthly authority!”
“Is there nothing you can do?”
“My fa— that is, the Padishah does it to put me in my place, but he knows he cannot win should I choose to challenge him. Frankly, I have not the time for such political games. For others, though, the consequences of noncompliance can be deadly.”
The chancellor appeared unfazed by this statement. Lawrence gaped. “Surely they can’t threaten the Holy Person,” he whispered. “You are a citizen of every nation!”
“They have informants,” Arlyne replied simply. She flicked her eyes in the direction of her chief steward, who waited patiently in case anyone required his services. Chancellor Hanser and her husband sucked in their breath, wondering if there was anything they could do but knowing that the steward’s superiors would learn quickly if anything untoward happened to him. Arlyne, though, didn’t appear bothered. “Do not be disturbed by this revelation. Remember that this is a way of life in the Republic. Those who are born into it seldom give it a second thought. I am the first Ghaultian in a hundred years to attain this office. My predecessors from the Dominion of Khadash and the Hansic Alliance dealt with it accordingly, so why not me?”
Chancellor Hanser decided to change the subject before someone overheard them. “Holy One, your entourage leaves tomorrow morning. Are you sure you can’t extend your stay? Visits from the Kahanne of Assize are so rare.”
“Regrettably, I cannot. Rukh has made this journey long and arduous — his Elements have not granted us speedy passage. The annual tribute must be made to the Forum in five months and I have yet to visit Irbirah.”
“That should be an experience,” muttered Lawrence.
“Khadashites have a unique world view,” replied Arlyne. “I look forward to the visit. Unfortunately, Qedem ensures that a convoy such as mine does not move as quickly as I would like — slower now, without Rukh’s approval — and the travel time takes its toll.”
Chancellor Hanser nodded in understanding. “I presume, then, that you won’t be stopping by the Federate.”
Arlyne shook her head. “Many of my predecessors have tried and failed to make inroads into that country. The one remaining temple to the Forum lies in Kennedor, but that has more to do with its status as a former duchy of Ghault than any national policy emanating from Gath. We cannot force them into accepting the Spirits. For now, it is enough that they recognize the One True Deity. The truth will win out on its own. It just takes time.
“For similar reasons I have decided to skirt Valor’s Keep. My presence there would merely complicate the diplomatic schism between the Republic and the rest of the Commonwealth. In any event, the Grand-General would certainly oppose any visit.”
“The Praetorship is godless,” cursed Lawrence. The chancellor looked at him sharply.
Arlyne took the comment in stride. “Perhaps, but that is a burden they alone must bear. It is for the Unknown to judge.”
There was a moment of silence between them during which they overheard snippets of other conversations. Finally, the chancellor spoke up. Her expression was troubled.
“Holy One, I must admit that I feel somewhat disturbed by your warning about the coming of the Time of Meeting. Is it really upon us?”
Arlyne answered carefully. “There have been no overt signs, but my instinct tells me that Samlah cannot force the Champion of Chaos to remain idle for long. The Circle’s representative to the Commonwealth Council agrees that the Dark Champion is stirring.”
At the mention of the Circle they shifted uncomfortably, recalling Governor Lessander’s report about his encounter with Quinn and the Circle’s inexplicable interest in the Explorer.
Sensing their feelings, the Kahanne spoke carefully. “Granted, the Circle has yet to earn the trust of the people of Halcyon, but should the Time of Meeting truly be upon us, we will look to them for aid. Perhaps it is merely ill fortune that my feelings coincide with the departure of your Explorer ship from Rugen, but a part of me dreads what Yarmah may reveal in the vastness of the Great Sea. No one has ever ventured out there. Let us pray that we can contain whatever they bring back.”
This led to a disquieting moment when no one spoke. After a short while, the Kahanne rose. The chancellor and her husband followed.
“Chancellor, I must take my leave of you. I am weary from the day’s events. With your permission, I will retreat to my quarters.”
Yarena and Lawrence Hanser bowed their heads and Arlyne acknowledged the ritual with a slight nod. As she strode regally to the door, the others in the room bowed their heads as well. She turned back to them and uttered a blessing, calling upon the Spirit of Souls to guard them in their sleep: “May Shakar watch over you.”
Once she was gone, the conversations resumed. The leaders of the Hanse sat back down and eyed each other worriedly.
Stay tuned for the next chapter…
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