“Thank you,” Rasha said quietly enough not to interrupt the ongoing discussion as she accepted the mug of hot cocoa.
“Ma’am,” McGraw answered at the sa volu, smiling and tugging the brim of his hat to her before turning to pick up another cup from the tray he’d set on the end table and offer it to Shahai.
Watching him, Rasha did not miss the inherent cleverness of the old man positioning himself as the de facto housemaid; it was a discreet but undeniably effective strategy for keeping himself in the good graces of the large group of dangerous won occupying the living room, nearly all of them Avenist and several of uncertain motivations.
Joe hadn’t employed any such strategy, but then…he was Joe. It was less likely to occur to him than to the more experienced old wizard, and anyway, Joe was probably the most inoffensive person in the room. He stood against the wall out of everyone’s way, listening with his arms folded and—unlike far too many teenage boys—reflecting his lack of anything to contribute by keeping his mouth shut and bothering no one. The only person in the safe house who even might be misandrist enough to take issue with Joe’s existence was, herself, subdued and seed so depressed that even Rasha felt a grudging pity for her. Grudging, and very slight.
The woman in question found herself the center of attention at that mont as both McGraw and Shahai turned on her, with a mug of cocoa and a question, respectively.
The seats in the safe house’s small living room were mostly taken and Sister Magden, being the least favored person present, hadn’t managed to snag one. She was sitting on the other end table in a slouched posture with her head down, arms wrapped around her scabbarded sword as if clinging to it for comfort.
It was a couple of seconds before she responded to either of them, finally looking up at McGraw patiently holding out the steaming cup to her. Mutely, she shook her head, and he withdrew with a smooth bowing motion that made Rasha wonder if he’d ever been a waiter.
“Magden?” Shahai prompted.
“Sorry, I was…” Magden turned to the elf. “What did you say?”
“You told Rasha you were looking to get in contact with General Avelea,” Shahai repeated, showing no sign of impatience. She was one of those people who gave the impression that impatience was an entirely foreign concept to her. “What did you need her for?”
“Oh.” If anything, Magden’s shoulders slumped further. “I was… I sought to ask her personal intercession with Avei on behalf of Sister Lanora. I understand the point of a public punishnt of that magnitude for political purposes, but I believe it was unfair. Lanora was—we were misguided, the goddess made that clear. But she was always a good priestess, who did what she believed right. I thought…she deserves another chance. At least, I did,” she added bitterly, her voice dropping to a bare whisper. “Apparently I didn’t know any of my sisters as well as I thought. I cannot believe won I trained and prayed alongside would try to do sothing so contemptible as what I saw tonight.”
Shay let out a loud, expressive snort, and Casey lightly swatted the back of her head.
“It might comfort you to know, Magden, that by far the majority of your erstwhile comrades have done exactly as the goddess commanded,” Shahai said gently. “About two thirds have already left the city alone or in small groups, departing for unrelated destinations. The Sisterhood lacks a comprehensive intelligence network, but Tiraas has only two publicly accessible gates and two Rail stations; it is not hard to watch the comings and goings. Plus, most of them abandoned their Purist gear in the section of the Temple barracks they’d taken over. Tabards, chainmail, bracers, and swords; the High Commander has set our quartermasters to examining them for hints as to their origins. We can dare to hope that those you saw tonight were the only ones engaged in such depravity, but I’m sure I needn’t caution you all not to hang too much trust on optimism.”
She swept her gaze around the room, receiving nods of acknowledgnt.
“I believe I have the full picture now,” Shahai continued. “I must inform you all that I received a ssage from General Avelea herself just before Sergeant Elwick’s reached . She has to travel to Veilgrad tonight on political business, and in fact will be taking Bishop Darling, who I understand has been an ally in this matter. That ans that until tomorrow, we are effectively on our own. Right now our priority has to be locating the remaining Purists, and most especially Sister Lanora. Their whole order was clearly propped up by the Universal Church as a ploy to divide and damage the Sisterhood, and now that that has failed, those won and the knowledge they hold present a danger to the Archpope’s operational security. They are pri targets either for recruitnt into his inner circle, or elimination. We must find and secure them.”
“Why?” Shay demanded. “We’re talkin’ about a bunch of morons whose entire shtick was dragging Avei’s na through the mud so they could have an excuse to bully people. Screw ‘em, I don’t see how this is worth stickin’ our necks out.”
Magden’s expression darkened further, but she didn’t look up from her steady examination of the carpet at her feet.
“First of all,” Shahai replied, turning a flat stare on Shay, “because Justinian has a long pattern of recruiting hopeless individuals and honing them into effective servants; every warm body we keep out of his coterie now is a better trained and better ard problem we won’t have to deal with later. And second, Shay, the Purists were dealt with by Avei. As of that declaration, those who have not gone on to commit further cris are not wanted for any offense, and those who have should be duly tried and punished under the law. Leaving them to be brutally silenced in so back alley the way they tried to do with Rasha is not acceptable in either case.”
Shay looked less than convinced, but offered no further objection, just sprawling back into her armchair.
“There is also the reason Justinian will be motivated to secure or silence them: Lanora and possibly others possess materially useful intelligence which we need. Knowing that the Archpope is behind so much recent trouble is not the sa as being able to prove it. If we can definitively link sothing to him, we will gather a great deal more support and the Empire can bring its resources to bear on him.”
“Why did you let Lanora out of your sight in the first place, then?” Rasha asked pointedly. “I an, not you specifically, Sister Nandi, but…”
“I take your point, and it’s valid,” Shahai said, nodding to her. “Were the Sisterhood a governntal or solely military organization, she probably would have been held and interrogated. But it is first and foremost a faith, and lacks the legal authority to involuntarily detain an excommunicated individual within the Empire. I personally would have had her followed, at the very least, but evidently that did not occur to anyone at the ti.” She pursed her lips in disapproval.
“How’re we gonna find ‘er, then?” Joe asked quietly.
Shahai nodded. “As Sister Magden has lost contact with her, we are forced to fall back on the asures you used to locate the Purists this evening. With apologies, Casey, I need to divide and direct your team.”
“Nandi, it’s ,” Casey said, grinning. “I’m not Locke, you don’t have to explain what a chain of command is every single ti. What’re your orders?”
Shahai gave her an amused smile in response as she answered. “Bandi, Elias, I need you to attempt to locate Sister Lanora via magic. Do you believe you can do it?”
“I will try,” Sister Bandi said, bowing. “My magic is paltry, I warn you. I cannot predict the outco of the attempt.”
“Worth a shot,” McGraw agreed. “I can do a bit with sympathetic principles… It’d help if we’ve got anything connected to her. Sothin’ of hers, ideally sothin’ she valued.”
Magden raised her head as everyone turned to look at her. Straightening, she fished in the neck of her robe and pulled out a small talisman, an Avenist golden eagle carved in a disc of ebony, hanging on a chain. “Lanora gave this. She made it herself, years ago, and wore it for over a decade.”
“That’ll do,” McGraw said, both he and Bandi nodding. “That’ll do quite nicely. I do warn you, ma’am, any divine charm on it’s likely to be degraded by doin’ arcane craft at it…”
“It is not blessed,” Magden said softly, rubbing her thumb across the sigil. “Just…special.”
“Excellent,” Shahai said crisply. “Sister Magden, I would like you to assist them as best you are able. I remind you that Lanora may be in danger if we cannot find her.”
“I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Good. Casey, please remain here to coordinate and supervise; make sure they have everything they need. anwhile, Shay, Joseph and I will escort Rasha and Private dvidaar. First to an Imperial police station to file a report on the Purists’ attack this evening; it will be politically important for a record of their actions to be in governnt hands, and this will provide the Empire with a pretext to bring pressure to bear upon both the Church and the Huntsn. After that we can conduct Rasha back to Tamisin Sharvineh’s house, and the Private to the Temple. I believe the five of us represent a group which would deter anyone willing to attempt an ambush in the city.”
“Why don’t we just keep Rasha here?” Shay suggested. “Y’know, where we can keep an eye on ‘er ourselves.”
“Why don’t we ask what Rasha thinks of all this?” Rasha countered, raising one eyebrow.
“There is that,” Shahai agreed. “We are certainly not going to coerce Rasha into anything. I do hope you agree with on the importance of making a police report?”
“It’s never my first instinct,” Rasha conceded, “but it’d be interesting to be in a police station on the right side of the bars for once.”
“I’m sure,” Shahai replied, smiling. “As for the rest, I am not attempting to get rid of you; I simply think you will be safer at ho. This safehouse’s only defense is its anonymity, and when we are working specifically against Church and Sisterhood personnel it may not even have that. By contrast, the Sharvineh mansion is a target I understand even the Svennish intelligence service did not dare assault.”
“No, it’s fine, I agree,” Rasha assured her, taking Zafi’s hand. “I’d really like to get ho, anyhow. You sure Zafi will be all right back at the Temple?”
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“Wherever the Purists are, they’re not there,” Zafi replied. “That’s the one place we know they’re not. Nobody’s gonna try to snatch a Legionnaire out of her own cohort. And when I’m not drilling with the squad I can stick near Sister Azelea.”
“I will also make an effort to keep an eye on you, Private,” Shahai promised, “at least until we are sure the imdiate situation has been resolved. Does anyone have further questions? Good, then let us get to work. Ti is short and growing shorter.”
“So…I understand the problem.” She stood in the center of the chamber, clawed hands on her hips and her wings neatly folded against her back so that they flowed behind her like a rigid cape of feathers, with their small claws rising above her shoulders. “The machine must be, in essence, rebuilt from scratch after the damage it suffered. The work takes ti because it is a secret of the highest order, so no one is trusted to help you work on it. And also, no one knows how. Plus, it is made mostly of pieces which are rare and expensive, including many irreplaceable Elder God artifacts for which there can be no substitution. Even with the search ongoing, it might be years before enough have been gathered, and…possibly never. I understand.”
The underground space had at least been cleaned up over the last four months, and was no longer a charred wreckage of chanical and enchanting parts. Now, the equipnt arrayed around it and climbing all the walls encircling the broad summoning circle in which she stood was clearly in a half-built state, with incomplete tal structures bristling from the floor, unfastened wires trailing, copper and glass rods extending from various machines into empty air, and miscellaneous parts strewn about either loose or in crates.
She heaved a deep sigh, then grudgingly nodded. “I owe you an apology, then, Rector. I am sorry for implying you were deliberately stalling. The work you do must be very difficult.”
Azradeh turned when there was no response save the continuing soft clatter of a wrench on the inscrutable cabinet on which he was working, sothing that resembled a twelve-foot-tall grandfather clock with glowing parts and a face which depicted a swirling portal into so mysterious darkness.
“Rector?” she prompted. “Did you hear ? Please respond.”
“I’m not deaf!” the man abruptly shouted in exasperation, not looking up from what he was doing. In fact, it sounded like he was tightening bolts harder all of a sudden. “Omnu’s breath, woman, will you go away?! I am trying to work!”
Azradeh tilted her head, studying him curiously. Rector was an odd one, and truthfully rather annoying to deal with, but she felt no animosity toward him. Of the very few people with whom she had contact, only two treated her…in a word, normally. Colonel Ravoud and Delilah were both polite, but their tense bearing never let her forget that she was a creature capable of tearing them apart bare-handed, that her na was a byword for terror and destruction in their language. Branwen set off alarms in her head just by being in the room. Justinian himself, of course, was always kind and composed, but he was his own kettle of fish. Only Rector didn’t seem to care at all what she was. It made her like him, despite his congenital lack of even the most basic social skills.
“A cogent analysis, Azradeh, but there is another important factor which limits us further.”
She turned again, regarding the Archpope himself as he descended from the half-rebuilt control platform to join her on the summoning circle below.
“When we rescued you,” Justinian explained, leaning his head back to look up at the central point on the ceiling where a secondary energy nexus would be housed when the great machine was activated, “another being…intervened. Sothing extra-dinsional and extrely powerful. We must do considerable research to determine what effect this had, and plan for it before trying again. That alone is prohibitive.”
“I see,” she murmured. “Then there’s no telling when I can see my sisters again. Or if.”
Justinian laid one hand gently on her upper arm; he alone was unafraid to touch her. Well, Rector wasn’t afraid either, but he loudly disliked being touched at all, as she had discovered.
“What can be done can be repeated; it is simply a question of the difficulty and the cost. Sotis, they are too great to attempt in practical terms. In this case, I refuse to accept that possibility unless it is forced upon us. We will rescue your sisters, if it can at all be done. I simply cannot predict when. I’m sorry, Azradeh.”
She shook her head. “Everyone is doing what they can. I feel like I could be doing more. Maybe I could help Rector?”
Head buried in his clock-like apparatus, Rector emitted a feral growl that echoed oddly.
“I certainly don’t understand how this thing works, but I can follow simple directions. You can’t tell soone who can lift giant tal beams and cling to the ceiling wouldn’t be useful—”
“KEEP THE DAMN DEMON OUT OF HERE!” the enchanter bellowed. “NOTHING BUT INTERRUPTIONS! LET FOCUS!”
Delilah was already descending from the platform, giving them one of her pointed looks, the one which presaged a lecture about how much more difficult it would be for her to calm and re-focus Rector after this.
“Perhaps we have interrupted his work enough for the ti being,” Justinian said discreetly.
Azradeh sighed. “Fair enough. I’ll see you later, Rector. Don’t forget to eat sothing, okay?”
With surprising accuracy, he hurled a brass-frad power crystal at her. Azradeh made no response, not even blinking as it bounced off her temple.
“I’m wearing him down,” she assured the Archpope while the two of them climbed the steps toward the control platform. As the passed, Delilah pressed a hand over her eyes.
“I am not sure that approach will work,” Justinian said delicately once they had passed out into the hall beyond. “There is a thod to befriending people like Rector. Pressuring them is not part of it.”
“People like Rector, huh,” she mused. “So is there a na to what’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing is wrong with him,” he said without hesitation. “He is different, that’s all. But yes, we have at least a partial understanding of it. The dwarves have made a scientific study of this in recent decades, and elven tribes have traditional thods of raising such individuals. They appear to occur naturally in every race in small numbers. Most people, Azradeh, have minds that are made up in large part of people-related instincts, innate skills which enable us to recognize and interact with one another. Rector, and those like him, are born missing so or all of those aptitudes; they are replaced with other capacities. As you have doubtless observed, his talents lie elsewhere. We simply must extend more than the usual tolerance and understanding to help him make those skills useful to us all.”
“Hmmm. So they’re always gifted enchanters?”
“No, and no,” he replied, smiling. “They do tend to produce savants, but in various fields; enchanting happens to be Rector’s particular specialty. But even so, not the majority. Most are simply people, with a condition, and their own talents and abilities like anyone else.”
“I wonder if it’s really worth the effort of extra care, then, if they’re not mostly as useful as Rector…”
“Always, if only to avoid the judgnt of how useful soone is. The effort is worth it, regardless of any singular result yielded. Making that effort to care for others is what determines that we are a society which does so, as opposed to one in which people are rely exploited for whatever utility can be wrought from them. The forr always creates a stronger and more resilient social order than the latter.”
“Collective over individual utility,” she mused, nodding slowly. “I can see the logic. I wonder if they have similar ideas in Hell.”
“Our knowledge of that is secondhand at best,” the Archpope said gravely, “but indications are very much the opposite. Back to the present, I’m sorry about the sparring golem you were using. I was only just inford.”
“Oh. I guess I’m the one who should apologize,” she said, grimacing.
“Not in the least.” With one of his caring smiles, Justinian patted her again on the shoulder. They had arrived at her room; Azradeh hadn’t been going anywhere in particular, just following him, and now allowed him to gently usher her in while he continued speaking. “I’ll make arrangents to bring you another one as soon as I am back above, but…I fear the thing will happen again, eventually. Unfortunately, those things simply aren’t made to withstand strength like yours. I truly am sorry, Azradeh. It’s hard to provide ans for you to exercise down here.”
“I’d really like the chance to fly,” she said, wandering over to her music player—a rare and expensive enchanted device, so she understood, and which she treasured—and lightly rested her claws atop it without reaching for one of the sound disks. “I feel that would help …rember. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of visiting the surface soon?”
It had been a desultory question with no real expectation behind it, but he gave her a pleased smile in response. “In fact, I finally have good news about that! You know the reasons we must maintain discretion, but I have been monitoring an ongoing situation which I think will provide exactly the pretext we need to let you stretch your wings above a bit. I am carefully nudging it in the proper direction; with a little bit of luck, I expect to be able to bring you up within the next few days.”
“Really?” She looked up at him, smiling in genuine anticipation.
“It is not set in stone yet,” he cautioned, “but I have committed to the plan. If it does not pan out, I will re-prioritize to put aside so other concerns and arrange an outing for you in the near future. I owe you that much, at the very least.” The Archpope’s eyes fell on her well-stocked bookcase, next to her reading desk, and he reached out to draw his fingertip through the light coating of dust on the spines of the theological histories on the top shelf. “Are you…not interested in reading about your family?”
“I’m interested,” she said, letting her own expression grow more pensive, “but…concerned about prejudicing myself. Nothing has brought up mory, not as an explicit recollection of sothing I could describe, but I do get flashes of feeling. A sense of familiarity about so things. I’m concerned about corrupting my perception, so to speak. If it’s going to co back to , I’d like it to co before I start filling my head with other people’s ideas about what my sisters and I were like.”
“I do see the sense in that,” he said, his eyes falling on one of the volus laid on the desk. “Ah, that’s right, you did ask for a copy of Branwen’s book. Have you finished already?”
Azradeh snorted. “In the sense that I read four chapters and now I’m finished with it, yes. What a bunch of absolute piffle. It’s all self-aggrandizing nonsense—anybody who already believes that stuff doesn’t need the encouragent, and anyone who does need it isn’t going to have their life changed by a book. The whole thing is nothing but selling people validation.”
“I suspect no one involved in the creation of this book would dispute that,” he said, his smile a touch wry. “It was a chanism to improve Branwen’s public perception, and did its job quite well. Of course, I will continue to supply you with more reading material. Have you any specific requests?”
“Oh!” She looked up from her shelf of music disks, smiling. “That reminds , could I get a newspaper subscription?”
The Archpope did not betray any emotional reaction, not by so much as a blink. “Newspaper?”
“Or several of them, ideally,” she went on, frowning at the disks. “Why are these out of order… Oh, that’s right, I re-shelved in a hurry after…anyway.” Azradeh set about sorting her music collection, speaking in a distracted tone. “Newspapers are ntioned in more recent books; it sounds like a great way for to get up to speed on the modern world. Oh! Even better, what about so magazines? The books are great, but I like the idea of sothing more, how to put it… Epheral? Connected to the current mont in ti. It sounds from what I read like magazines aren’t very well respected in literary circles. That sounds ideal.”
“That should be quite easy,” Justinian replied, smiling again. “Yes, I will have a selection brought for you imdiately. Magazines are usually quite focused in their subject matter; you can pick those which most interest you and I will have them delivered regularly.”
“That’s fantastic, thanks!” Azradeh said brightly, giving him a smile as she slipped the last disk back into its place.
The conversation continued as usual and she showed no further reaction to betray the victory she had just won; revealing that she was even aware of a victory would have likely undone her efforts.
Azradeh might not have mories, but she still had instincts, and every one of them had scread at her from the beginning that Archpope Justinian could not be trusted—and that further, revealing that she sensed this would place her in danger. This, finally, was hard confirmation. That his response to the idea of her receiving newspapers was anything other than the prompt “yes, of course” with which he had answered all her requests for entertainnt and education showed he was invested in controlling her understanding of the world outside. And that ant both that she had zero chance of getting newspaper subscriptions, and that she must swiftly dispel any suspicion on his part that she sought to wriggle out from under his control.
Hence the magazines. They would reveal less about the current world, particularly a selection curated by Justinian himself, but they would reveal sothing, in little bits and pieces. And even better, he all but had to accede to the request in order to keep her distracted from the more dangerous subject of newspapers.
For now, Azradeh would continue slowly gather information and play along with whatever he was doing, certain only that his final goals were not what he was telling everyone. It might be that his true agenda was in her best interests after all, and if not, better that she be trusted and in a position to do sothing about it. Even if she hadn’t the recollection of her history, millennia of habit still cautioned her to keep her friends close and enemies closer, at least until she could tell the difference.
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