Psalms of Isaak 01 – Lamentation

Petronus studied the faces of each man around him, including the rangers. None of them looked surprised or uncertain. None of them looked as if they were ready to disagree. And if he were honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he could disagree with that wisdom either.

“What would you propose?”

Garver released his held breath. “Appoint someone to lead this effort in your stead. Work with them by the bird if you must, but don’t overlook your other responsibilities. The Named Lands need their Pope.”

Petronus sighed. “Very well. I’ll think on it and we’ll discuss it at council tomorrow. Is that reasonable?” Garver nodded. “Thank you, Excellency.”

“Thank you.”

After they left, he looked across to Neb. “What do you think?”

Neb chewed a piece of bread, a thoughtful look on his face. “I think they’re right, Excellency.” Petronus rolled his eyes. “Not you, too.”

Neb grinned but the grin faded quickly. “I think Sethbert’s men will come for you here at some point. Or try to. There is no dispute for the ring and the scepter if you are not alive. But more than that, I’m certain you’re going to need to convene a Council of Bishops under Holy Unction. There is much work to do beyond digging these graves.”

Petronus leaned back, realizing for the first time how much the boy had grown these past few months. Well-spoken and wise, firmly rooted in a classical Androfrancine education and yet so young. “And who do you think I should put in charge of this operation?”

He shrugged. “Rudolfo is in charge, by proxy, as the Guardian. He or one his officers can provide the military support and council we need. You could appoint Garver or one of the others to oversee the gravedigging and the day-to-day logistics of running the camp.”

Petronus shook his head. “I’d want someone from the Order for that.”

Neb shrugged. “I don’t know then. Most of the Androfrancines went to the Summer Papal Palace. There are a few left, but I don’t know them.”

Petronus smiled. “How strongly do you concur with Garver’s recommendation?”

Neb scowled, his brow creasing. “I think you can do more away from here, in a safer place. Regardless of what we believe, there is another Pope competing for authority and attention, and the only way to prevail is to be a better, stronger Pope than he.” He paused, and his face softened as he shrugged again. “I concur strongly, I guess.”

Petronus stood. “Then you’d best find new robes, Neb.” Neb looked at him, confusion clouding his face.

“I’ve just made you my aide. Your first assignment is the completion of the work here. Afterwards, you will join me in the Ninefold Forest to assist with the restoration of the Great Library.”

The boy was still sputtering and red-faced when Petronus left the galley, chuckling. He hoped he was making a good decision. He’d always been impeccably good at picking out the shephereouted-ds from the sheep, but this shepherd was terribly young and these sheep were a motley herd.

Still, the boy had seen the work of Xhum Y’Zir and lived to tell it. He’d been the guest of the Marsh

King and the subject of his War Sermons. He’d proclaimed a Pope and buried his own dead.

But more than that, he’d known when to keep Petronus’s secret, and had known even better than

Petronus when it was time to break that secret onto the world.

That alone was enough for Petronus to trust him with the graves of Windwir.

Neb

Petronus rode out three days later. Neb watched him and his escort leave the plains of Windwir and slip into the northern forests. There had really been no time for him to adjust to this new responsibility. But whenever he felt the panic rise in his chest, Neb remembered what Petronus had said to him.

“You’ve watched everything I do here,” Petronus told him that first night after Neb had asked him to reconsider his decision to put him in charge. “You won’t need to deal with the guard shifts or any other military matters. Just keep the work moving and the workers supported. Anything that can’t wait a day or two for a bird, decide by council or ask whoever Rudolfo attaches to you.” Then the old man had paused, smiled, and put a hand on Neb’s shoulder. “I know this is a lot. But I would not give you more than I thought you could handle.” And finally, he’d leaned forward, his voice low. “You of all people understand why we must finish this work.”

Neb had nodded, and from then on he’d spent every waking moment with Petronus, following him everywhere he went and asking him every question that he could imagine.

Now, three days later, he felt uncertain all over again. After Petronus vanished, he sent the workers back to their tasks. None of them balked. Then he checked the supply wagon schedule, the artifact wagon and the galley. While at the galley he had the cook pack him a lunch, and he started walking the line,

surveying the effort remaining. Having to move the snow first was extending the time, and though the cold wasn’t yet unbearable, they’d still had to shorten the shifts considerably. One of Neb’s biggest hopes