DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga) by R.A. Salvatore Read Free Book Online

Church might begin the process of canonizing the man!
    Braumin read Je’howith’s expression correctly, and he gave a helpless chuckle to alleviate the tension. “We have learned much since then,” he said. “Hopefully, the Abellican Church can begin to mend the wounds it has opened.”
    “By canonizing Avelyn Desbris?” Je’howith asked skeptically.
    Braumin held up his hands. “In time, perhaps that process will find enough support to begin,” he said noncommittally, not wanting to start that fight now. “But before we begin to discuss any such action, before we even begin to determine who was correct—Father Abbot Markwart or Master Jojonah and Brother Avelyn—we must, by the King’s own command, put our present house in order.”
    Je’howith’s skeptical glare returned tenfold. “You have long ago decided which of them chose the proper course,” he said accusingly.
    “And it is a case I intend to make against you, and strongly, should you decide, after all that we have seen, to side with Markwart,” Brother Braumin admitted. “But, again, we have not the time, nor the folly, to begin such a battle at this hour.”
    Je’howith backed off. “Agreed,” he said.
    “And we must quickly convene a College of Abbots to elect a new Father Abbot,” Brother Braumin went on, “and to secure the position of abbot of St. Precious.”
    “Why, Brother Braumin, you are not yet even a master. As an immaculate, you would likely be invited to a College of Abbots, though you would have no voice there. And yet you speak as if you personally intend to call one.”
    “Master Francis will nominate me as abbot of St. Precious before King Danube this very day,” Braumin announced. “Brother Talumus and all from St. Preciouswill second that nomination.” He paused and looked at the old monk directly. “And Jilseponie, who has refused the post, will act as third.”
    “Children leading children!” Je’howith retorted, raising his voice in ire. Braumin knew that the man’s anger was born of frustration, for, in truth, the old abbot would have little leverage in preventing the ascension of Brother Braumin. “And,” he sputtered, “that woman! Jilseponie! She is not of the Order! She will have no say in any of this!”
    “She is of the Order, my friend,” Brother Braumin calmly replied. “Can you doubt her prowess with the gemstones, a clear sign that she is in God’s favor? Can you deny Father Abbot Markwart’s last words?”
    “He was delirious,” Je’howith insisted. “He was near death. And, besides, he did not nominate Jilseponie—that was foolish Brother Francis’ doing.”
    “It was the greatest moment of clarity our Father Abbot experienced since long before the last College of Abbots,” Braumin Herde replied. “Since before he sent Brother Justice to hunt and kill Brother Avelyn. Since before he abducted the poor Chilichunk family and let them rot in the dungeons of St.-Mere-Abelle. You know that my words are true and that they will ring powerfully to the other abbots and masters, many of whom had come to question Markwart long before the most recent revelations. Master Francis followed Markwart along that dark road, and he has returned to the light to tell the truth of it.”
    Je’howith spent a long while digesting Braumin’s argument, seeking some flaw. “I will not oppose your ascension to the position of abbot,” he conceded.
    Braumin’s smile was cut short as Je’howith pointed a long, thin finger at him. “But only if Bishop De’Unnero does not return.”
    “He is discredited by his own actions even if he does,” Braumin argued. “We know that he stood with Markwart in the final battle.”
    “We know little of his role,” Je’howith countered.
    “He is implicated in the murder of Baron Bildeborough.”
    “Hardly,” Je’howith scoffed. “He is implicated only in the eyes of those who so hated Markwart that they saw his treachery in every event. There has been no