Patriarch Ortzel of Kadach rose to his feet, his severe face framed by his pale, greying hair. ‘If I may speak, Emban,’ he said. The Patriarch of Kadach was the compromise candidate of the faction opposed to Annias, and he spoke with a certain authority.
‘Of course,’ Emban said. ‘I eagerly await the wisdom of my esteemed brother from Lamorkand.’
‘The paramount duty of the Church is to survive so that she may continue her work,’ Ortzel said in his harsh voice. ‘All other considerations must be secondary to that. Will we all concede that point?’
There was a murmur of agreement.
‘There are times when sacrifices must be made,’ Ortzel continued. ‘If a man’s leg be caught between the rocks at the bottom of a tidal pool and the rising waters be lapping at his chin, must not the man regretfully sacrifice the limb in order to save his life? Thus it is with us. In sorrow must we sacrifice the whole of Arcium if need be to save our life – which is our holy mother Church. What we are faced with here, my brothers, is a crisis. In times past, the Hierocracy has been extremely reluctant to impose the stern and stringent requirements of this most extreme of measures, but the situation facing us is doubtless the severest trial facing our holy mother since the Zemoch invasion five centuries ago. God is watching us, my brothers, and He will surely judge us and our fitness to continue our stewardship of His beloved Church. I, therefore, as the laws which govern us require, demand that an immediate vote be taken. The question upon which we will vote can be stated most simply. “Does the current situation in Chyrellos constitute a Crisis of the Faith?” Yes or no?’
Makova’s eyes were wide with shock. ‘Surely,’ he burst out, ‘surely the situation is not that critical! We have not even tried negotiation with the armies at our gates as yet, and –’
‘The Patriarch is not in order,’ Ortzel said abruptly. ‘The question of Crisis of the Faith is not open to discussion.’
‘Point of Law!’ Makova shouted.
Ortzel looked intimidatingly at the weedy monk who served as law clerk. ‘Speak the law,’ he commanded.
The monk was trembling violently, and he began to desperately paw through his books.
‘What’s happening here?’ Talen asked in confusion. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Crisis of the Faith is almost never invoked,’ Bevier told him, ‘probably because the kings of western Eosia object so violently. In a Crisis of the Faith, the Church assumes control of everything – governments, armies, resources, money – everything.’
‘But wouldn’t a Crisis of the Faith require a substantive vote?’ Kalten asked. ‘Or even unanimity?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Bevier said. ‘Let’s see what the law clerk has to say.’
‘Isn’t it sort of redundant at this point anyway?’ Tynian asked. ‘We’ve already sent for Wargun and told him that there’s a Church crisis.’
‘Somebody probably neglected to tell Ortzel,’ Ulath replied. ‘He’s a stickler for legalities, and there’s no real point in disturbing his sensibilities, is there?’
The weedy monk, his face absolutely white, rose and cleared his throat. His voice was squeaky with fright as he began. ‘The Patriarch of Kadach has correctly cited the law,’ he declared. ‘The question of Crisis of the Faith must be put to an immediate secret vote.’
‘Secret?’ Makova exclaimed.
‘Such is the law, Your Grace, and the vote is to be decided by a simple majority.’
‘But –’
‘I must remind the Patriarch of Coombe that further discussion is not in order.’ Ortzel’s voice cracked like a whip. ‘I call for the vote.’ He looked around. ‘You,’ he snapped at the clergyman sitting not far from the goggle-eyed Annias, ‘fetch the instruments of the vote. They are, as I recall, in the chest at the right hand of the Archprelate’s throne.’
The clergyman hesitated, looking fearfully at Annias.
‘Move, man!’ Ortzel roared.
The priest jumped to his feet and ran to the shroude throne.
‘Somebody’s going to have to explain this to me a little better,’ Talen said in a baffled tone.
‘Later, Talen,’ Sephrenia told him softly. Sephrenia, wearing a heavy black robe that looked slightly ecclesiastical and concealed her race and sex, sat amongst the Church Knights, almost totally concealed by their armoured bulk. ‘Let’s watch the exquisite dance being performed before us.’
‘Sephrenia,’ Sparhawk chided her.
‘Sorry,’ she apologized. ‘I’m not poking fun at your Church, Sparhawk, just at all this involuted manoeuvring. ’
The instruments of the vote consisted of a fairly large black box, quite dusty and totally unadorned, and two plain leather bags securely held shut with stamped leaden seals.
‘Patriarch of Coombe,’ Ortzel said quite concisely. ‘You hold the chair at the moment. It is your duty to break the seals and cause the ballots to be distributed.’
Makova glanced quickly at the law clerk, and the little monk nodded. Then Makova took up the two bags, prised open the leaden seals and took an object from each. They were perhaps the size of a common penny. One was white and the other black. ‘We will vote with these,’ he declared to his fellow Patriarchs, holding the counters up. ‘Is it agreed that the black means no and the white yes?’
There was a rumble of agreement.
‘Distribute the counters then,’ Makova instructed a pair of youthful pages. ‘Each member of the Hierocracy shall receive one white counter and one black.’ He cleared his throat. ‘As God gives you wisdom, my brothers, vote your consciences in this matter.’ Some trace of colour had returned to Makova’s face.
‘He’s been counting votes,’ Kalten said. ‘He’s got fifty-nine, and he thinks we’ve only got forty-seven. He doesn’t know about the five Patriarchs hiding in that closet. I’d imagine those five votes will come as quite a surprise to him. He’ll still win, though.’
‘You’re forgetting the neutrals, Kalten,’ Bevier reminded him.
‘They’ll just abstain, won’t they? They’re still looking for bribes. They’re not going to offend either side.’
‘They can’t abstain, Kalten,’ Bevier told him, ‘not on this vote. Church Law says that they have to come down on one side or the other of this question.’