Sacrifice (Catalyst Moon #5), page 10
“How may we help you, s-serla?” the first asked. He had a neat beard and a stutter, although Tal wondered if the latter was due to the Cipher’s sudden appearance.
Cipher Natanaree indicated Tal with a nod. “I have rescued this unfortunate soul from an untimely fate. Please draw her a bath and fetch her some,” she wrinkled her nose, “more appropriate garments.”
As the young men scurried off, Tal glanced at the young priestess. “Serla, if I may ask–”
“You need a burn, don’t you?” the Cipher interrupted.
The mere mention of hematite made Tal’s heart soar. But she was wary, so she kept her reply careful. “I welcome any assistance you can provide. But what is your intention?”
“I have known many sentinels in my days,” the Cipher replied. “But I think only one or two would risk imprisonment and death to beg for the life of a mage. You are certain this Mage Halcyon can cure thralls?”
Tal’s throat burned with another cough, which she tried to hold back. “She cured herself, serla. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“When I found you,” the Cipher began, “I’d just come from speaking with Queen Solasar. She mentioned that she’d received…curious letters lately. Two appear to be from local farmers, a Ser Jennet Bywater, of Fash, and a Ser Aster Reeve, of Estia. Both claim that a mage named Kalinda Halcyon cured their spouses from thrall possession. Well,” she amended, “Ser Bywater wrote that her husband had been injured by a thrall, but given how injuries always seem to proceed thrall possession, she believed that Mage Halcyon saved her husband from a worse fate than death. And just yesterday, I received a message from the Zhee embassy in Pillau. Apparently, another former sentinel of yours has found his way there, along with a Zhee mage of some notoriety in her homeland. Both echo these claims, and the Zhee ambassador believes the mage at least speaks truly.”
Tal frowned in thought. “Did you learn the sentinel’s name, serla?”
“Abernathy Dilt, but apparently his sentinel name is–”
“Beacon,” Tal murmured. By the One, what was Beacon doing in Pillau? And with Sadira, no doubt. She hadn’t seen him with Stonewall and the others back in Stonehaven, but had assumed that he’d perished.
“He was under your command, was he not?” the Cipher asked. When Tal nodded, the priestess’s voice went flat. “So you betrayed his trust, too. You betrayed all of those under your command. I saw the aftermath in the bastion. I watched those mages save Milo’s life.”
Tal’s heart froze even as hot shame swept through her, and she ducked her head. All air seemed to evaporate and the chill in her blood turned her to stone, but she hardly noticed, for memory cast her back to that night, that moment when she’d sealed her own fate. Milo. The poor, sweet boy. He’d done nothing to deserve her cruelty.
“My fate is in your hands, serla,” she managed. “I will comply with your will. But please, you must help me release Kalinda from Argent’s custody. He’ll kill her, and the secret of curing thralls will die. More people will suffer needlessly. Please.”
Cipher Natanaree regarded her with an expression Tal could not read. “I heard news of a former sentinel prisoner escaping into the city. Why come here, to the caradoc’s den, when freedom was in your grasp?”
“I made a promise,” Tal replied, and did not bother to fight the tears that pricked her eyes.
The Cipher’s gaze was far afield. “If I do as you wish, Ser Hammon, the Council will be in an uproar, and the queen will not thank me for it. As for the Pillars…” She grimaced. “They weren’t pleased with my actions in Whitewater City.”
Tal could not help her curiosity. “You defied the Pillars?”
“I helped free the innocent people you imprisoned,” she glared at Tal again, “and thus defied Iban, the head priest there. He has hopes of climbing the Circle ranks, and little regard for justice or mercy, especially for heretical Sufani and mages, or anyone else who threatens the Circle’s power–” She cut off her words, and smoothed out her immaculate robes, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft but steady. “I have come to understand that the Circle is not acting in the best interest of Aredia.”
Curious. Tal had never known any member of the Circle clergy to act against the Pillars. But the conviction in the Cipher’s voice burned as bright as any mage-made fire.
Another cough tore at Tal’s throat, but she held it at bay. “You were brave back in Whitewater City, serla.”
“Do not flatter me,” the Cipher shot back. “In any case, the Pillars may not be an issue much longer, as there’s to be a transfer of power soon. Perhaps the new Pillars would be more amenable to freeing Kalinda.”
Tal sat up. “She cannot rot in a cell in the meantime! We must—I must—free her soon. Now.”
Dark eyes fixed upon Tal, who got the sense that the holy woman could see her very soul. Was it twisted and gnarled as an ancient tree, or sticky and black as her lungs felt with each breath? Tal tried to measure her words. “Please, serla. You have met Kalinda, so you know she is worth saving. What must I do to convince you? I will swear any oath you like–”
“You’re no sentinel any longer,” the priestess interjected. “Your oaths mean nothing. But…” The Cipher frowned, not in anger, Tal thought, but in confusion. “Perhaps our paths have crossed for a reason. I will help you free Kalinda.”
Tal’s jaw unhinged. “Just like that?”
“It may take a day or two to arrange an escort, but…yes. Isn’t that what you want?”
“No, I do. It’s just…” You believe me. I thought no one would. Tal’s gaze shot to the altar; flower petals, coins, polished stones, and other trinkets lay beneath the carved crystal sphere. The One God was with her, after all. She ducked her head. “Thank you.”
NINE
Sweat trickled down Flint’s back but she kept her face set in stone as she stared down the sentinels guarding the mage’s prison cell. “I understand your duty, but you need to understand mine.” She thrust a gloved finger toward the solid metal door, behind which Kali’s cell lay tucked in the garrison’s bowels. “That sodding moon-blood magicked my former sarge, addled his mind, and convinced him—convinced all of us—that she could cure thralls. She led him astray, and we–”
The tears that slipped down her cheeks were no act, but she blinked them away as quickly as she could. “We all followed him. Now he’s dead, and that bitch is still alive. It’s not fucking fair, and I need to make her understand that. So let. Us. In.”
Her words echoed in the small space. Marcen, who held a lantern at her side, nodded but said nothing. Rook added in a low voice, “Just a few minutes. Please.”
Flint held her breath. They’d already gone through several checkpoints, but each time, Rook had managed to talk her way through. This wasn’t even the main detention area, but an off-shoot, a place designed to hold only the most dangerous magic-users.
The two guards on duty exchanged glances before the first spoke. “Forgive me, Serla Rook, but have you cleared this…visit with the High Commander?”
Flint bit back a grimace, but Rook’s reply was smooth. “He’s aware of Flint’s connection with Mage Halcyon.”
“Fine, but he’ll still have our hides if the mage is damaged before the Pillars examine her,” the second guard said.
“You have my word that no one will harm the mage,” Rook replied in her gentle way. “These two just need to say their piece. I know this is unorthodox, but if you let us in, I’d consider it a personal favor. Levy, I know you could use some more off-duty time. And Granite, you were hoping for a promotion, right?”
Her voice was mild, and her smile showed off her dimples without trying too hard. Flint had to give Rook credit for the façade, though she knew full well that beneath that beautiful face lay a devious mind and wicked heart.
But still, the guards hesitated, and Flint began to appraise their size, probable strength, and potential skill in case the situation got ugly. She could definitely take the first guard, though he’d probably give her a few bruises in the process. But the other fellow was bigger and seemed less inclined to put up with nonsense. He’d not go down easily.
Well, neither would she.
Thank the gods, the first guard stepped aside and withdrew a ring of keys. “All right, but please be quick. And Serla Rook – I’d appreciate three additional mornings off next week, if you please.”
“I’ll arrange it,” Rook said, still smiling.
The door opened on oiled hinges, and she ushered Flint and Marcen inside. No one spoke until the door closed again, the resonant clang echoing through the small space. Rook, Flint, and Marcen clustered in an alcove in front of the mage cell. Mar lifted the lamp and they all peered through the barred door, at the utter blackness within.
“Kali?” Marcen whispered.
No response.
Throat tight, Flint knelt by the door. “Kali? It’s Flint. Are you all right?”
Again, silence, until…
“Flint?”
“Aye,” Flint said, pressing against the bars. “And Marcen…and Rook. Are you injured? I brought some thalo.”
“And food, if you’re hungry,” Marcen said. His hands trembled so hard, the light danced wildly against the walls until Rook gently pried the lamp from his fingers and he, too, knelt before the bars.
“I’m not hungry,” came Kali’s hushed, hoarse reply. “But thank you.” She paused. “Do I want to know what you’re doing here?”
“Long story,” Flint replied. “But Mar and I are here for you.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “We’re going to free you.”
Kali’s chuckle echoed against the stone walls, but the sound was hollow. “Are you?”
Flint frowned. “Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”
“You should both leave,” Kali replied. “Now. And don’t look back.”
Marcen said, “You’re the only mage who can cure thralls, and–”
“You can, too,” Kali interrupted.
“Yes, but not as easily as you,” he countered. “Besides…don’t you want to be free?”
“What I want doesn’t matter,” she replied.
Marcen gripped the bars as if trying to pull the door off its hinges. “Look, we risked a lot to come here. For you. Don’t you care? Aren’t you worried about the thralls? I know you’re upset about Stonewall, but–”
“I never asked you to come here,” Kali broke in. She had still not come forward, so her disembodied voice seemed to creep out of the void. “Whatever risks you’ve taken, you chose to take.”
“And the thralls?” Mar pressed. “You’re just going to let them run rampant?”
She did not reply for several long heartbeats, and when she did, her voice was barely a whisper. “I can’t help you, Mar.”
“You sang a different song not long ago,” he shot back. “The thralls…they’re bigger than you or me or Stonewall. Whitewater City has fallen to them – did you know that? Kali, the thralls are eating our world alive, but you have the power to stop them.”
“I can’t,” she murmured again. “I’m sorry.”
He stared into the darkness, body tense. “You killed other mages. You caused so much death and destruction. Now’s your chance to balance all that out – or try to, at least. Don’t you understand? Don’t you care?”
Kali did not reply, but Flint thought she heard a soft whimper.
Marcen rose, muttering a curse as he shoved past Flint and Rook for the exit. “I’m sodding done. I’ll see you later.”
He wrenched the door open and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Flint grimaced at the heavy, reverberating clatter, and looked back in Kali’s direction. “He’s…angry.”
“I gathered,” Kali replied.
When she said nothing else, a spark of anger kindled in Flint’s own heart. “You don’t want to leave, do you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” came the monotone reply.
“This isn’t you,” Flint hissed, gripping the bars as Marcen had done; as if the iron and hematite would keep her from trembling herself to pieces. “You care, maybe more than anyone I’ve ever met. He loved you for that caring. But now…” She trailed off as fury caught in her throat. “Now he’s dead. Because he followed you. Because he trusted you.”
“Yes,” Kali whispered. “I’m sorry.”
The soft apology only made Flint want to hit something. “Fine. We’ll clean up your mess. Don’t worry about a thing.”
She whirled to leave, but, in her anger, had forgotten how sodding tiny the space was, and crashed into Rook, who peered up at her with wide eyes.
“Flint…”
“Let’s just go,” Flint snarled, slipping past her former friend. “I’m done wasting my time.”
Without waiting for a reply, she shoved past the door and out of the cell. Rook followed.
Outside the cell door, the two guards shot Flint curious looks. “Your friend barreled off without answering,” the second guard said. “Did you get what you were after from the mage?”
Flint clenched her teeth. “I tried.”
“Dealing with mages is a losing battle,” the first guard offered, not unkindly, as they latched the door. “We’ve all lost brothers and sisters to mages’ cruelty. If it helps, you’re not alone, sister-in-service.”
She stared at the armored figures, unable to even recall their names even though Rook had used them mere minutes ago. The realization humbled her, so she offered a low bow. “It does. Thanks…?”
“Thank you, Levy and Granite,” Rook said before Flint could falter too much. “Flint and I greatly appreciate your kindness.”
“Glad to be appreciated,” Levy replied, a smile in his voice.
Rook touched Flint’s arm. “We ought to go.”
Too drained to argue, Flint only followed Rook through the corridors, back to the garrison.
As they went, Rook shot her a few glances that Flint might have taken as concern had she not known the true extent of Rook’s lying nature. Neither spoke until they reached the corridor that led to the barracks, where Rook paused. “I’m sorry, Flint.”
Flint cast her eyes to the stone ceiling. Ea’s tits, being in this place was like living inside a rock. “I’m sure.”
“I’ll still help you leave,” Rook began.
But Flint cut her off, glaring down at the other woman. “I don’t want, or need, anything from you, do you understand?”
She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth, for they were untrue and cruel.
Which probably explained why her foolish heart panged when Rook’s brown eyes brightened with tears. “I just want to help you,” Rook whispered in a shaking voice. “Flint, I’m not–”
“I don’t care what your angle is, or what game you’re playing,” Flint broke in. Her voice trembled, too, and her legs itched to be on the move, to be fighting, to be anywhere but here. “Just don’t talk to me anymore. I’ll figure the rest out on my own.”
* * *
Kali sat alone in the darkness. A new set of hematite cuffs—heavier than any she’d ever worn—anchored her wrists to her lap, and the collar pressed against her windpipe, making each breath a chore. Although she’d seen lights in the corridor beyond her little cell when Flint, Mar, and Rook had visited—hours ago, or maybe years—nothing penetrated the absolute black on all sides. The void itself had trapped her.
She leaned her head against the stone walls and stared into the void. Thoughts of the future had already slipped through her mind, for her life was probably forfeit. So be it. The past, though, clung to her waking memories like rust on an old blade.
Tears slid down her cheeks as she whispered, “I’m sorry, Stonewall. Please forgive me.”
But he did not answer, of course. He would never answer her again; she would never feel his bright, eager presence in her mind, nor see the smile that transformed his usually stoic face into pure joy. Almost everyone she’d ever loved had gone to their next lives. She was alone and she deserved no better.
Footsteps echoed outside, faint but growing louder. Kali swiped at her cheeks and tried to look in the direction of the cell door. But she couldn’t recall where it was, so when the iron creaked and light sliced through the shadows in front of her, she winced.
Lamplight poured in, only for a massive man in armor to block its entrance as he stepped through the doorway. Kali couldn’t see his face clearly while her eyes adjusted to the change in light, but his smooth, polished voice sent a thrill of mute horror through her veins. The last time she’d heard his voice was in Whitewater City, on the eve of her and her friends’ near-disastrous escape down the waterfall.
“It’s safe, serlas,” High Commander Argent said to someone beyond the door.
Is it? Kali frowned up at the sentinel. He was taller than she recalled from their hasty encounter, what felt like three lifetimes ago now. Could he even fit inside the cell?
One step over the threshold and he was within arm’s reach. He towered over her, peering down like she was something a cat had left on his nicest pair of slippers. Meanwhile, voices and figures took shape in the corridor. Of course, the High Commander would not have come alone to Aredia’s most dangerous mage. But who had been brave enough to accompany him?
More light crept into the cell, pushing back the darkness. A woman entered in the void’s wake. No – no woman like Kali had ever seen. The one who entered her cell on silent steps moved with the grace of a cloud over an otherwise empty sky; her white hair shone like a beacon through mist. As she drew closer, Kali spotted a small amulet dangling around her neck: a silver sword. The gaze that fell upon Kali was not a cold, calculating gaze like Argent’s. It brimmed with intelligence and purpose, but held only hollow humanity, like the painted eyes of a marionette.
But this woman was most certainly alive, for she rubbed her arms against the cell’s chill as she studied the captive mage with disinterest. The void itself looked upon Kali, and found her wanting, and Kali couldn’t suppress a bitter chuckle.
