Severin Saury chokes back the scream that twists
his throat, that hurls him into a consciousness shaped of cold sweat and
pounding heart. Disoriented, he sees nothing familiar in the hostile lines of
the shadowed world he beholds, in the gnarled limb beside him, the slick
leathery sheath wrapped tongue-like around his legs—
Warm flesh brushes against his arm, and strong
fingers lock around his wrist. Beside him, Sonia groans in somnolent
irritation. "Severin, go back to sleep. It was just a dream."
He is cold, far colder than the pleasant air of the
summer night. He looks outside, out through his opened window, out to where the
stars, once familiar, gutter like dying candles.
Sonia digs her nails into the inside of his arm.
"I want to sleep," she insists. He knows that tomorrow morning she
will remember nothing of this, have no explanation for the four semicircular
marks pressed into his skin.
He closes his eyes, trying, not for the first time,
not for the last, to remember the nightmare.
Through his window, the stars watch, baleful and
silent, their light staining his arms — Sonia's chest — everything it touches —
a sickly purple, a shade of death.
For the eleventh time, Adriana recounts the story.
Hideo listens as she spins out the tale of the flight from the castle, again
playing her game of adding more remembered details each time. As she speaks, he
recalls her lips at his ear three days ago, whispering, "I will give them
anything they want to make them stop asking me about it." He strains to
sit up, to shoulder some of her burden, and again the wracking pain in his
heart sends him plunging back into darkness.
He awakens to the touch of a cool towel across his
forehead, held by a woman's arm at the edge of his fever-blurred vision. For an
instant, he cannot place it – it is like his sister's, but he instinctively
knows it is not hers. Then, as his eyes focus, he sees that his mother has come
at last, and it is she who is daubing the sweat from his brow. The tension
drains from his limbs, and he closes his eyes, relaxing into the enfolding
comfort of the bed to listen.
Hideo tries to decide if this counts as the twelfth
telling, or simply the eleventh restarted. Adriana has already recounted their escape
and glossed past the hours they spent alone in the ossuary, with the bones of
the ages-dead and the golden light of the Royal Sword as their only companions.
He feels a flush of shame as she tells their mother that they searched for a
way out together, her generous way of describing her dragging him, her own arm
shattered and swollen, through dust-clogged passageways choked with heaps of
femurs and tibia. His contribution to the search effort, spitting up blood and
staggering in search of something he couldn't even explain, sounds much more
heroic in Adriana's retelling.
Kimiko stops Adriana when she comes to their
departure from the ossuary. "Couldn't you come back the way you
left?"
Hideo senses his sister's gaze upon him. "We
talked about that. At first, we didn't want to, in case the killer was waiting
for us to return," she says. Her voice is steady as she adds, "But
then, after a few hours of being lost, we tried it and it didn't work."
"What do you mean?" his mother asks.
Hideo shudders involuntarily at the memory of using
the Sword, his spirit reaching out for an open space only to be diverted, his
hand twined with his sister's, into a place formed of solid stone—
"Hideo thinks someone damaged the connection
between here and there. We almost got trapped trying to come back. We're
guessing it was the killer. It was terrifying, but Hideo guided us out."
She moves closer, and he feels the warmth of her hand on his arm. He keeps his
eyes shut.
"Oh," answers his mother, sounding
suddenly drained. "Well, go on."
Adriana runs her fingers along the length of his
forearm. He feels his skin prickle into goose bumps at her touch. "It took
a long time, but we found another way out. It dropped us into the lake, as you
probably heard. I think my steward here was beside himself when he found out
who had suddenly appeared in his lake. I know we frightened a few
tourists." Adriana sounds grimly amused; the memory of her standing
waist-deep in her gore-caked sleeping kimono, Royal Sword in hand, is something
he will carry to his grave. "From there," she presses on, hurrying to
the end, "we found a Veiled Guard, who verified my identity and that of
the Royal Sword, and they contacted you. I've heard news from the Royal Capital
while you were on your way here – about your plans for Aimee, about the army
marching south. I think we have much to discuss, mother."
For a moment, the Regent is taken aback by her
daughter's change of topic, but Adriana Komaru does not hold the room's
monopoly on stubbornness. "Of course, Adry. But first, I have something
that might help Hideo…." she trails off, and he can tell she is trying to
decide what to do next.
Adriana closes her hand around his wrist and says,
"He's awake." His subterfuge penetrated, Hideo opens his eyes, and
sees the two women sitting on either side of his sickbed: Adriana, green
physician mark twisting around her throat and wrapped, vines and fingers,
across the arm that holds his own; Kimiko, exhausted but determined, looking
more like his elder sister than his mother every day.
"Hello, mother," he sighs, and feels the
familiar pain in his chest that signals another spasm of coughing. He fights it
down.
Awkwardly, Kimiko says, "At the Castle of the
Sea I found something that may help you." She holds out a ring, offering
it to him. It is a twisted piece of metal that wraps around itself, and with
but a glance Hideo can tell it pulses with power. "Try it on?"
Hideo looks from Kimiko's worried, hopeful face to
Adriana, whose expression is a mirror of her mother's. He swallows, and says,
"Okay."
Effortlessly, the ring slips onto his finger.
The coughing fit rising in his lungs subsides
instantly.
He feels no trace of illness, nothing save the
aches of the last month.
He feels alone, cut off from his sister.
He feels normal.
Half-panicked, he wrenches the ring off his finger.
"I—I can't wear this. It's not for me."
Alarm flashes across his mother's face. "What
happened? Did it hurt you?"
Hideo shakes his head, and starts to cough. Between
fits of coughing, he blurts out, "No. But I can't wear it and be who I am.
I can't help Adry with it—"
Kimiko's disappointment and confusion make his
heart ache, but before she can speak, Adriana acts decisively. She leans over
the bed, catching the ring out of his fingers and then pressing her lips to his
own. Her kiss sends a surge of warmth through his body, and his skin tingles
where she touches it. Dazed, he can only fumble in surprise as she slides the
ring back onto the ring finger of his pinioned hand. When she breaks the kiss,
she says, "You help me best just by being here, Hideo." She rises
from beside the bed and turns, her golden-brown hair a swirl behind her as she
goes. In the hallway, she calls, "Let's go talk, mother. We have a great
deal to discuss."
When Kimiko leaves, Hideo studies the ring on his
finger for a half an hour.
Then, without regret, he drops it into his chamber
pot and turns over, to cough again and then to sleep.
As the Komaru sit and stand in the aisles of the
Hall of Kings awaiting the wedding, they do what generations of Komaru have
done before: they speak of the kingdom.
Deep on the Komaru side of the hall, a Komaru count
sits between his wife and his brother, who is there with his magnificently
pregnant Sone wife. After complimenting his sister-in-law on her kimono, the
count says to his brother, "Have you heard, Soron? Sana Komaru is engaged!
I was astonished to hear it. Isn't that wonderful news?"
Soron frowns at his brother. "I haven't heard
that our cousin finds it so, Yashi. From what I hear, an engagement to Theo
Bellatrix is not something that sits well with her. She still remembers the
Interregnum."
Yashi gestures dismissively, "Ancient history,
that. It's a good match. I hear he inherited the Principal Light's county when
Kedakai ascended. Isn't Theo also related to Kedakai? That makes young Theo a
prominent member of the Bellatrix family. He has a promising future before him,
and Sana's lucky to catch him at the start of it."
Soron is unconvinced. "But Sana hates the
Bellatrix, Yashi. Surely you could see how that might be a problem for the
engagement."
Yashi's answering grin is sly. "Hates them,
does she? That's not what I've heard. From what my daughter says, cousin Sana
downright propositioned Kedakai to leave the Church and come live with her
instead. What do you say to that, Your Excellency?" he chortles, elbowing
Soron cheerfully in the ribs.
Soron's frown deepens, "I cannot think of
anything that would hurt the Bellatrix family more than Kedakai accepting such
an offer. Even its statement embarrasses the Church."
For the first time, Yashi's wife Sayoko enters the
conversation. "Soron's right, dear. And if I were Sana, I would be asking
myself whom I'd angered to see me engaged so bindingly to someone I so
disliked. It seems to me that your cousin has finally crossed the wrong person
with that pen of hers," she says with a note of regret. "A woman
should have the chance to find happiness in marriage." Surreptitiously,
she squeezes her husband's hand.
At that moment, Soron's wife gasps as the child in
her womb kicks, sending all concerns about engagements far from her family's
mind. But elsewhere, others still whisper.
In the Queen's Antechamber, the mother of the bride
stands in the corner fretting while her daughter's dressers finish arranging
the layers of shining kimono that adorn her. The mother of the bride has one
further companion as well, a Minamet marchessa more than twenty years her
junior. As the bride's mother anxiously wrings her hands, the marchessa catches
them and gives them an encouraging squeeze. "Your Grace is radiant as
always. You have nothing to worry about."
From the center of the room, the bride's enchanting
laughter rings out, "Is Mama still fretting, oneesan? I don't know why
she's worried. She's already been married!"
The bride's mother flings her hands up in despair,
"Oh, Maria, but you hardly know him. And he's a Bellatrix, and twice your
age—"
"At least he doesn't look it," Maria
giggles. "Besides, Dad was older than you and everything worked out for
me!"
The bride's mother sniffles, on the verge of tears,
"My darling Maria, how can you laugh? It's your wedding day!"
But laugh she does, "Mama, I can't help laugh!
It's all so strange to think about! What else can I do but laugh. In three
hours, I'll be a wife!"
Not reassured, the bride's mother begins crying in
earnest, and the Minamet marchessa neatly folds her arms around her, reassuring
her. "There, there, Mei. There, there, my dear. She's taking it well. You
Komaru are strong. Just look at Aimee – when her engagement was announced,
everyone thought she would do…" she bites her lip, smiling as she
considers possibilities, "well, something. But she's strong, and knows her
duty. How can your daughter, who you raised right, do any less?"
One by one, she wipes Mei's tears away, until Maria
wrinkles her nose and says, "I hope he at least bathes regularly. I hear
the Bellatrix sometimes forget." That fit does not end until the Minamet
marchessa threatens to kiss away Mei's tears, turning her lover a shade of red
as brilliant as her daughter's wedding kimono. Finally, Maria banishes them
both from her room with the abject declaration that she will never stop
laughing if they do not go.
As the Minamet marchessa presses through the crowd
in the foyer of the Hall of Kings, her silvery laughter distracting the
onlookers from her companion's tears, she nearly collides with a pale, tired
Komaru duchess. The marchessa does a double take before bowing deeply to the
duchess. Baffled, the Komaru duchess bows back before the marchessa, her smile
impish, drags Mei off to a private alcove to repair her makeup.
The Komaru duchess watches them go, and murmurs to
herself, "What was that about?"
She feels fingertips trace the sleeve of her
kimono, and turns to find that she is standing next to a darkly beautiful Sone
baroness. "Why, can't you guess, Midoko? Nene is honoring you on your
husband's behalf. Even though the Church has lifted her family's
Interdiction, she appreciates your husband's efforts to support solidarity
between her family and his."
Midoko blanches. "I don't know what you mean,
Arabelle." But she looks away, and Arabelle knows she has heard the
rumors.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, my dear. Can
you tell me you've never been tempted to do the same?" She holds up her hands,
displaying her perfectly manicured blood-red nails. "Wrap your hands
around one's scrawny, sanctimonious little neck and just squeeze until their
skin turns blue and their eyes bulge out of their face? I can think of few
things more satisfying—"
Midoko, pale before, turns white as driven snow.
"I'm sure there's another explanation. I cannot believe my husband would
simply murder a Radiance of the Church of Inner Light in cold blood. Cole is
not a monster."
Around Midoko, the nobles of Komaru city start at
her words, and several draw away from her in sudden fear. Arabelle moves
closer, practically purring. "No, Midoko, he's a hero, and you should be
sure to welcome him as one when you see him. I'm very proud of him, and I'm
sure I'm not the only one." Midoko has started shaking, but Arabelle is
unrelenting, and catches Midoko's sleeve in her hand so she cannot flee.
"In fact, I've heard he's holed up in that Bellatrix castle he sacked with
Melisande Sone. Have you heard that she seeks a father for another round of
children? I've heard she prefers men just like your husband — if I were you, I
would make certain I was welcoming my dear husband personally as soon as
possible--"
"Arabelle, that's enough." The voice is
new, that of a handsome Touraine marquis who has risen from where he sat with a
group of young Komaru. "She can no more travel in her condition than you
could. Be kind."
Arabelle turns quickly, releasing Midoko's sleeve,
her eyes narrowed. "Don't presume—" When she sees who has accosted
her, her tight-lipped glare vanishes instantly, replaced by a seductive smile.
"Ah, it's you, Your Grace." She taps him in the chest with a
fingernail. "You shouldn't interrupt me like that. You're lucky I like you
as well as I do."
The corners of the Touraine marquis' lips quirk
into a faint smile. "My good fortune on that account lets me begin every
morning with enthusiasm, my lady." He turns to Midoko, offering her his
arm. "Your Grace, may I have the honor of assisting you to your seat? You
look magnificent this morning, and I am ashamed that I am the first gentleman
to offer to assist you."
Arabelle arches an eyebrow at the Touraine marquis
in amusement, and turns back to Midoko to give her an examining look. What she
sees transforms her expression into delight, and she declares, "My dear,
marriage must be dulling my senses! Congratulations to you and your fortunate
father, whomever he might be. Your second, correct? Lend me your other arm,
Jade. It's not appropriate for a married woman to be unescorted at a time like
this."
Midoko, exhausted, hesitates for a moment before
accepting Jade Touraine's offered arm, then murmurs, "Thank you for your
kindness."
Arabelle wastes no more than a moment before
beginning a shocking recounting of her most recent pregnancy, but still Midoko
sees Jade smile for her and whisper, "No. Thank you." She looks down
to the marble floor of the Hall of Kings, thinking to herself that the shelter
of a solid bench beneath her cannot come too soon.
As the trio drift out of sight, the circle of young
Komaru stops watching them. Finally, one of their number grits her teeth and
says, "I really hate her. Arabelle Sone, I mean."
Another, a young man with stylish hair, chuckles.
"Jealous, Elise?"
Elise rounds on the youth, "No, Jules, I'm not
jealous!"
The youngest of the party, scarcely more than a
boy, says, "Then why are you blushing?"
Elise's face flushes scarlet, and she exclaims,
"Arima!" The rest of the circle begins laughing, and soon Elise joins
in. "Okay, okay. He's so beautiful, though! Every time I see him I want to
kiss him!"
A third boy, the eldest at twenty and serious of
mien, shakes his head. "I wouldn't, Elise, if I were you. You've heard how
he treated Seraphine. It's a wonder the Touraine aren't at war with us, between
what he did and what she did, interfering with your brother's engagement plans.
I swear, if something isn't done soon, the Touraine will send the Mer to drown
all of us."
Elise yawns dramatically. "Swearing to the
Code of Blood doesn't make you important or smart, Jarrett. Particularly when
we all know why you really did it. A chance to spend some time with a certain
pretty young Secretary, hmm?"
Jarrett flushes, "Leave Lady Suisei out of
this, Elise."
Elise giggles, "I think I've made my point
about 'Lady Suisei' clear enough. Anyway, I think Aleron might actually fancy
Seraphine – after Zoe left him, I didn't think it would ever happen again.
Besides, I hear Pleasance is an old hag. Aleron's better off without her."
The last of the party, the only Sone lady among
their number and by far the eldest of the group, smiles grimly and says,
"Actually, she's astonishingly beautiful, with hair like spun copper and
eyes like sapphires. But when she looks at you, you have the sense she's not
really seeing you."
Three of the Komaru fall silent, but Jules leans
close to the Sone and embraces her. "You love her better than me,
Liessa!" Arima blushes as he sees Jules' hand slip into her kimono,
beneath her breast; the other Komaru gracefully pretend not to notice.
Liessa deftly catches Jules' hand and pushes it
away. "You know that's not true, Jules. You occupy a special place in my
heart."
Jules eyes her mischievously and playfully reaches
for her again, "You mean right there?"
Before he can grope her, Jarrett clears his throat
and says, "So, did you see the dozen new nobles at the Cat last night? I
wonder what brought them to Komaru City from the countryside?"
Jules, successfully distracted from his amorous
endeavors, says, "I know! I talked to one, a Touraine boy – I forget his
name, no one important. It's the magistrates. They're patrolling the villages
and chasing off nobles from them. I think they've declared war on primula
veris. What a farce that is!"
Jules laughs, but Arima raises his voice in a
question, "But that's good, right?"
Jules begins to taunt Arima, but Jarrett cuts him
off. "It's good and bad, Arima. In some cases, it's a blessing of
protection. But in others, well – when you're the son or daughter of a baron of
no bloodline, you don't really have the chance to leave home to find an
engagement. Your parents need you there to run the manor, and you aren't
important enough that anyone else will send their sons or daughters out to
marry you. If you're lucky, you can marry the heir to a neighboring barony. But
once those heirs run out, the only option a fifth son has is finding a peasant
girl to be his bride. The magistrates, well – they make that much harder. I
heard my mother speaking with Romana Komaru the other night – apparently the
barons and viscounts are suffering because their children feel singled out for
crimes most have never committed. We're lucky to be in the capital, not out
there. I know there have already been fights, and Her Grace Romana said someone
had been killed."
Arima opens his mouth to begin to ask another
question, but just then a fanfare sounds from the Hall of Kings. Elise beams,
and says, "C'mon, we've got to go find a place to stand inside. You two
can finish babbling about boring politics over the tile tables tonight. It's
time to go watch a wedding!"
Quickly, the five Komaran youth rise and file into
the galleries of the Hall of Kings, there to watch the wedding of His
Excellency Athel Bellatrix, Count of Evremont, to Her Excellency Maria Komaru,
Countess of Minaval.
"Wake up, Ricard. Something's happening."
Ricard Yuasa snaps awake instantly, the benefit of
seven years of experience as a ranger. The night sky is starry, but an
unnatural yellowish light plays across the features of the woman who has awoken
him. He slides fluidly out of his sleeping roll, instinctively collecting his
sword and pistol. "What's wrong, Jana?"
"Look," says the older ranger, pointing
in the direction of the subject of their observation. "It's lit up."
When the score of rangers first arrived at the
'monastery' seven months ago, they expected to be impressed. But on their
arrival, they were even more astonished to discover how it had changed. They
had all heard the stories of how their enemies had raised a hundred foot tall
tower of stone from the earth in under an hour— Dante Yuasa's report had
prepared them for the second tower, but not for the filaments of stone that
reached from one tower to another, weaving them together like great gray spider
threads three times as thick as a man is tall. They had sent back a report of
the activity at once, but before word came back from Alban, the web between the
two towers had tripled in complexity, forming a net of fifteen tangled strands.
After building their
lean-to on the far face of the valley cliffs, Jana's team of rangers spent a
month debating the meaning of the growth. Over their meals of mountain game and
spring water, Bennet had even gone so far as to propose that the threads might
be there to allow the fortresses to combine the infamous glowing shields that
had stymied several Komaran generals. None of the Yuasa had imagined that his
theory would be proven correct so swiftly.
When Ricard looks across the valley, he sees that
the dual fortress is surrounded by a double hemisphere of glowing golden latticework,
a bright figure-eight of light that slides and whirls in the air as he watches.
Beside him, Bennet emerges from his corner of the lean-to, his skin turned
Touraine gold in the eerie light. As Bennet whistles in awe, Ricard whispers,
"Looks like you were right."
Jana, watching the fortress through her spyglass,
murmurs, "There's movement around the base of the fortress. I can't tell
what it is, but there's a lot of it. I'd guess it's an army, but I don't know
how—By the Light!"
Ricard doesn't need a spyglass to see what caused
her exclamation. Something dark and sinuous has blotted out the lower rim of
one half of the figure-eight. Bennet soundlessly moves over to Jana's side and
urgently asks, "What is that thing?"
The obstruction lifts higher into the air, twisting
around the circumference of the golden shield as if seeking purchase. Ricard
estimates its width as he watches it, and guesses it to be at least fifteen
feet thick, if not twenty. It coils around behind the fortress, beyond his
field of vision, and forty seconds later a bright flash of golden light floods
the valley.
Jana gasps, "It's trying to cut between the
spheres…. It's succeeding. Shadow of the Cosmos, what is that thing? It must be
a quarter-mile long--"
Ricard can see glints of light now on the ground
around the fortress. It is unmistakably an army. He hisses sharply to get
Jana's attention. "We need to move, lieutenant. We have no assurances that
these new guests will be as disinterested in us as the masked folk are."
Jana collapses the spyglass and nods, "You're
right, sergeant. Let's move."
The light from the fortress is both a blessing and
a curse to the three rangers as they climb the mountain to higher ground and
better cover. Bennet speaks at one point to wonder if the other watch posts are
seeing anything different, but Jana hushes him. Privately, Ricard wonders at
the necessity; the battle, or whatever it is, is no longer silent. A slow
hissing susurrus is building around them, its echoes thrown from one mountain
face to another.
Finally, out of breath from the hurried climb, the
trio stops to crouch in the high fringe of a bare patch of rock with a sweeping
view of the valley. What they see next makes them gasp yet again.
The great coil has cleaved the two fortresses
apart, and now wraps thrice about the hemisphere of the newer fortress. Beneath
it, the glowing latticework shudders and writhes, while the second half is dim
and smaller than it once was. Jana, spyglass in hand, says, "The coil
appears to have sheared right through the interconnecting net. I can see the
net's broken filaments extending from the older tower. There's movement along
the surface of the coil as well, on top. It's so fast that I can't make it out
as anything but streaks, though. They're all going up to the top—oh!"
With a blinding flash, the golden shield shatters
beneath the constricting coil. Ricard blinks as the light destroys his night
vision, and moments later a rush of dry rustling sounds echo around him, a
hauntingly familiar noise that twists his stomach into a sickening knot of
fear. When the noise subsides and his vision returns, he can see the black
outline of the coil bound directly around the cylinder of the newer tower, and
hear the distant clash of steel against steel.
"Jana, what do you see?" he asks
nervously, suddenly aware of the cold night wind against his skin.
The ranger lieutenant, slouched in the bushes, does
not answer. Ricard sees that she is not even looking through the spyglass.
Bennet notices the same thing, "If you're not
going to look, let me-"
"Wait," hisses Ricard urgently.
"Something's wrong." He draws his sword, and creeps closer to Jana.
Five feet away, he can smell the stink of blood.
Three feet, and he can see the way her neck lolls forward against her chest,
the dark bib spreading down her chest. Adrenaline surges through his blood, and
he draws his pistol with his free hand. "Bennet-"
There is a sudden rustling noise behind him, and
the other ranger grunts and stumbles against him, his weight knocking Ricard
off his feet and nearly down the bare face of the cliff. "Damn it,"
he curses, dropping the pistol as he catches himself. "What are you—"
Face-first, Bennet collapses limply to the ground.
His head snaps back before it hits, twisting to one side. A long, feathered
shaft protrudes from Bennet's right eye. Ricard can see blood welling on his
back from a terrible gouge along his spine.
Ricard feels numb. He spins in place, sword held
before him. "Come out," he demands. "Show yourself."
The rustling sound is behind him, and he whirls. He
is not fast enough, not even remotely prepared for what towers over him, half
again his height, the cold metal of its spear blade pressed against his throat.
He beholds the naked torso of a giant, the spear
gripped two-handed before it. Its eyes glow faintly blue, and its sharpened
teeth are bared. From above him, the giant speaks, "Smart enough to speak,
yes? Then smart enough to carry a message."
Ricard feels something cold and scaly wrap around
his ankle. His arm is limp, and he can scarcely feel his sword to use it. He
whispers hoarsely, "The Naga have returned."
The creature grins at him, showing its fangs.
"Wise one. Yes. Tell your masters that. Tell them that We remember their
crimes against Our kind. Tell them to prepare themselves. You will be Our
herald, wise one, and no harm will come to you."
"I won't—"
The Naga rears back, fifteen feet or more into the
sky. Ricard stumbles as its tail jerks his leg out from beneath him and pulls
him down. Its spear comes hurling towards his heart, a bolt of death from the
sky—
"I will, I will!" He shrieks it at the
monster.
"Good," the Naga beams. "Go now. Do
not look back."
There is a sibilant whisper, and Ricard finds
himself alone with two corpses.
From across the valley, there is a sharp crack, and
then a rumble like thunder, a rumble like a hundred tons of stone crashing down
into the earth.
By the feeble light of the last shield, Ricard can
see that there is only one tower now, and as he watches, something vast and
serpentine stirs to wind itself around it.
Four things can bring down even the mightiest of
mountains: rain, wind, time, and paperwork.
Sophia Bellatrix, newly appointed Numina of the
Banner of the Sun, wryly considers this as she repeatedly picks up and drops
the box of messages that met her upon her arrival at Sunrise. She lifts it high
enough to examine its bottom, and counts the sticky smears on it. So far, her
paperwork has been responsible for six large roaches' ascension to the Light.
She spots a seventh, and deliberately drops the box
on it. With a wet crunch, the insect splatters beneath its weight. She imagines
her students would be appalled to see her acting so brutally, but roaches,
unlike heretics and heathens, have never struck her as deserving a chance to
repent their malevolent and abominable existence.
Three minutes later, she decides that, like
heretics, the roaches have all learned to hide from her. Lacking any further
distraction, she clears a place on her shabby desk, lights the wick of her shabby
lamp, sinks into her shabby writing chair, and begins spreading out her
paperwork. When she arrived in Sunrise, the Minamet factor led her to the
dingiest, most disreputable building in the noble quarter. At her request for
something slightly more well-lit, he had shrugged and said, "We would have
to evict someone else, and I don't see that you'll be here long enough for that
to be necessary, begging Your Holiness's pardon."
Patience had seen her through… at least until she
found her mail, and the cockroaches.
After half an hour's work, she has sorted the mail
out into several discrete stacks, which she begins opening. The largest stack
is, of course, Matters Pertaining to the East. The first letter is,
predictably, a panicked request for military support against the Aten raiders
in the East. She puzzles over it for ten minutes, frustrated that she has never
taken the time to learn the ways of generals. Finally, she gives up, setting it
aside and making a note to ask Luminance Angelus for his opinion on the
request.
Then, with genuine sorrow, she reviews her copy of
Thierry Smith's letter declaring his decision to break from the Church of Inner
Light. If he hoped to win the support of the Church's Expansionist faction, she
reflects, he could have done his homework better: three letters down, she finds
Michael Leon's letter to the Numinous Council and Principal Light, declaring
the Expansionists' disgust with the leadership the present Principal Light
offers, and their choice to serve the Light free of the corruption and weakness
the Church in Prophet's Hope represents. She finds it fascinating that Leon
singles out Smith as one of the specific enemies of his faction, and does not
doubt that has much to do with Smith's decision to remove the peasants under
his care from the East before they suffered any further injury at the hands of
their enemies. She reckons that Smith's decision to move away from both the
orthodox Church and the Expansionists may have single-handedly destroyed the
Expansionists as surely as they destroyed his position as a Numinous.
Two letters down, she finds Luminance Angelus'
personal declaration that he cannot in good conscience remain with the Church
of Inner Light, along with an exhortation that she examine her own beliefs and
ask herself if Kedakai is truly the right man to represent the Church.
She sets the letter down and covers her face in
frustration. It lasts only a moment, but it is enough to start her thinking. So
far, Kedakai has not betrayed her hopes for him: she applauded his decision to
lift the Minamet Interdiction, and coincidentally personally benefited from it
through her appointment as a Numina and emissary to the Minamet lands. But she
knows both the Hawks and Risa Kamry's occult-mad allies are growing impatient with
Kedakai's refusal to favor one's policies over the other, and knows that he can
only please both for a little while longer. As to the Expansionists' split from
the Church, it grieves her, but she knows there is only so much to be done:
threats could only keep them in a Church they have moved so far away from for
so long.
No, she reflects, the worst failure she can accuse
Kedakai of is abandoning the peasants in the East. With the Church making no
effort to defend or relocate them, she can only imagine how much innocent blood
will soon stain the hem of the Principal Light's robes. She sighs, and begins
penning the letter of her answer to Angelus, tendering her sympathies and her
regrets.
As she finishes, there is a knock on her door.
"Come in," she calls, wishing her office possessed a proper reception
room. To her surprise, she does not recognize the striking middle-aged woman
whom her servant leads into the room. The servant, a veteran of her years in
the North, says, "Your Holiness, a visitor to see you. She would not give
her name, but she has papers from the Duchess of Inazuma."
The woman, silhouetted by the descending sun that
shines through the doorway, bows gracefully, "Your Holiness, pardon my
intrusion, but I had heard of your arrival in the city and wished to meet you
in person as soon as I could. Since we are to be each other's greatest enemies
for some time to come, it only seemed polite."
Sophia is taken aback, but only for an instant. Her
servant has his hand on the sword at his belt, and she thanks herself that at
least she has experienced men with her. Thinking about the North stirs a
distant memory, and she gives the woman a more intense examination. "Ah. I
think that perhaps—"
The woman spreads her arms, "Please."
Sophia gestures to her servant, who expertly pats
the woman down and finds no weapons. At his nod, Sophia says, "So, my
lady, how should we proceed?"
The woman smiles, and Sophia starts again as she
realizes that she has seen the woman before. She searches her memory to
remember where. Meanwhile, the woman answers her, " You understand that I
am only here because of your reputation for fairness, but based upon that I
could not deny myself the chance to meet. But I feel it would be most
productive were we to speak in private. Would you be amenable?"
Sophia nods her head, and with a curt motion of her
hand sends her servant to guard the door. "I find that fair, my lady. But
please, you have me at a disadvantage. How shall I address you?"
But as the door shuts and blocks the sunlight away,
Sophia realizes she already knows the answer.
Her violet eyes made bright by the glow of the
shabby lamp, the woman meets Sophia's gaze unflinchingly and says, "My
name is Violaine Asawa."
It is the 229th year since Paraceln's
Dream. In the sky, the stars shine. In the capital, the nobles celebrate and
children are merry. But for every step they dance, some long-forgotten memory
rouses itself towards wakefulness.