Sacrifice (Catalyst Moon #5), page 15
“A cane,” Kali broke in, eyes still shut. “Such a unique idea. However did you think of it? Thank the stars you suggested it, otherwise the thought never would have crossed my mind.”
She expected another cold remark, but Talon only chuckled. “Point taken.”
It was so odd to be in such close quarters with the former sentinel commander – and without the sentinel’s sword aimed at her heart.
“You could shut the door and wait outside,” Kali said. “I promise I won’t try to squeeze out of the window.”
Talon did not move, but she also did not speak as Kali scrubbed her face. At last, the former commander gave a deep sigh. “For what it’s worth, Kalinda, I regret the grief I caused you and your friends.”
“Do you really want to have this conversation while a Cipher is waiting?”
“I should have said it sooner.”
“You know what else you should have done?” Kali asked. “Not stabbed Milo.”
She thought there was a wince in Talon’s voice. “If I could take that back, I would. I will not make excuses for my actions, only say that at the time, I believed in the rightness of what I did.”
Kali stared at the bowl of now-dingy water. Talon’s words echoed in her mind. At the time, I believed in the rightness of what I did. Was she so different from the former commander? Kali had caused her share of pain and grief, though she’d not intended to. Kali had caused the deaths of those she loved.
The Pillar Baat’s words came back to her: Then what are you here for?
She shut her eyes again, hot tears building behind her lids, and worked to regain her calm. She was free—for now—and if she was going to stop the thralls and thwart the Pillars’ plans, she would need every ounce of control. So she concentrated on the cooling water, savoring the feel of it upon her skin…
Until she felt Stonewall’s presence in her mind, as surely as if he’d been standing right beside her, reaching to her through their bond. Kali?
“Elan?” she gasped, using his birthname out of sheer shock. Her gaze fell on the basin of water, and for one instant, she saw his honey-gold eyes looking back at her. But the vision faded immediately. Heart racing, Kali scanned the room, just to be sure, though she knew it was futile. Stonewall was dead. All her wishing otherwise would not make it so.
“What’s wrong?” Talon was suddenly at her side, crowding Kali by the sink.
Kali looked at the water again but saw only her own distorted reflection.
“Nothing,” she whispered, reaching for a towel with shaking hands.
“You look like you’ve seen–”
“Don’t,” Kali interrupted. She set the towel aside and leaned against the basin. Stars and moons, she was trembling like a plucked viol string. She had to regain control of her mind and heart. She had to be stronger – somehow. “I’m fine.”
But Talon did not seem dissuaded. “You said ‘Elan.’”
“Nothing gets past you, does it?”
The former commander made a noise of irritation but did not press the matter. She also did not leave, although she stepped back to give Kali more room. Kali hardly noticed. Was she truly going mad? If she’d only seen him, she might be able to shake the vision away, but she’d felt his presence in her mind as she had when he was alive.
She rubbed her shaking hands together, trying to calm herself and concentrating on the thread that had once bound their hearts. But as it had been since Stonewall’s death, the thread only wavered in the void.
He’s gone, she told herself as hot tears slid down beside her nose. You must put him behind you and look to the future. You must be strong on your own.
Such sound, sensible advice. If only she could heed it.
THIRTEEN
Later, a slightly-cleaner Kali used every ounce of self-control she possessed not to gape at the Cipher’s home. If she’d had time, she would have lingered in the rainbow light filtering through the stained-glass windows, and marveled at the carved pillars and ornate furnishings. But she forced herself to keep her gaze ahead as Talon and the priestess swept her along. The Cipher brought them to a sensible, wood-paneled room, furnished with a table, a few padded seats, and a large clear window that overlooked the city.
“Please, make yourself at home,” the priestess said. “I’ll send for some food and drink.” She slipped out of the room, leaving Kali and Talon alone.
Kali pulled two of the chairs together and plopped into one, propping her left foot onto the other, propriety be damned. Her sodding knee throbbed, but she tried to ignore the pain as she watched her companion survey the room. “Is it booby trapped?” Kali asked after a minute.
Talon was by the door the priestess had exited, skimming her nails along the frame. “Not that I can see, but we must take care.”
“I was joking…” Kali sighed and rubbed her poor knee. “Never mind. You don’t trust the Cipher?”
“I don’t know yet.” Talon went to the window to peer out at the city.
There was nothing Kali could do for her knee now, so she busied herself with studying the room from her seat. But her gaze lingered on the former sentinel. “Talon?”
“I prefer Tal, now.”
Kali blinked. “A nickname for your nickname?”
The other woman stared at the window without seeming to see it. “Your mother named me so. I…liked it.”
Kali toyed with the end of her redone braid, already starting to unravel. “Why’d you…” She made a helpless gesture. “Come here, alone. To free me. You had your freedom. And no jokes,” she added. “And yes, I realize the irony of that, coming from me.”
Talon—no, Tal—glanced back at Kali, one brow lifted. “Do you truly not understand?”
“If you think you…owe me something because you and my mother were friends… Well, you don’t. I barely knew her.” She waved a hand and pitched her voice to a low, mock-serious tone. “I release you from your oath of service.”
Tal crossed the room on silent steps to stand just out of reach and knelt so they were at eye level. “In part, perhaps, I am here because of Kam,” she said quietly. “But the same may be said of my father, my mother; everyone whom I have ever failed. Milo. Everyone at Parsa.” She ducked her head. “But you… You can do what I cannot. Your life is worth so much more than mine. I realized in Stonehaven that I’ve never been given a choice, a real choice in what I should do, or what I want to do. I thought I was choosing when I sought a promotion to Commander, but I was only playing someone else’s game. But you–” She broke off and coughed into her hand. “Protecting you is a worthy goal, and a good choice, and I am honored to make it.”
Well. Kali had no retort for that. Damn her.
This was Commander Talon, the woman who’d tried to kill her, who’d propositioned and threatened Stonewall, who’d tortured Drake and stabbed Milo – among other atrocities. Yes, they’d been thrown together recently, but that was no excuse for Kali to feel anything for the woman other than hatred. She ought to take a page from Eris’s book and use Tal’s abilities however she needed until the former sentinel no longer served a purpose. Tal didn’t deserve anything more. Right?
Kali clenched her jaw, furious with herself and the sudden, hot tears pushing for release. “And what if this choice of yours proves foolish, too? What if I fail?” Because I will. I’m not enough.
Tal merely regarded her. “The One has set you—both of us, I think—on this path. You will not fail.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “Why else would the One have spared you so far?”
“That would mean more if you hadn’t tried to kill me.”
To Kali’s surprise, Tal chuckled as she stood. “Probably so.”
Natanaree returned carrying a tray of food and a pitcher. She set the tray on the table and then took a seat across from Kali. They studied each other; Kali only vaguely remembered the Cipher from their brief time together in Whitewater City. The young woman had deep brown skin, intricately inked markings upon her hands and arms, coiling black hair pulled into a loose bun, and dark eyes that fixed upon Kali.
“Is it true that you know how to stop the thralls?” the Cipher asked.
Kali nodded. “And what’s causing them, serla.”
“Then we have a great deal to discuss.” Natanaree gestured to the tray of delicacies. “You must be hungry. I imagine you can speak and eat at the same time.”
“One of my many talents,” Kali said, her mouth watering. She grabbed a handful of cheese and meat, and began stuffing her face as Tal came to stand by her chair. The former sentinel’s presence should have unnerved Kali even more than everything else, but strangely, she didn’t mind Tal being nearby, at least not at this moment.
After Kali had eaten some, the Circle priestess laced her hands together in her lap. “Please explain the thrall situation from your perspective.”
“Certainly.” Kali arched an eyebrow. “How much time do you have?”
“All day, if need be.”
It only took an hour or so for Kali to share her tale. Evidently the Cipher had been briefed, not just by Tal, but by a letter sent from…
“Sadira?” Kali gasped, sitting upright. “And Beacon? They’re in Pillau? Are they all right?”
The priestess sipped her tea; the women were on their second pot by now. “I cannot say. Perhaps once this business is finished, you can go meet them. But for now, you are to remain here, in my custody.”
Kali sat back, trying not to be too visibly disappointed. “Very well. Where were we?”
“I think I understand the basic sequence of events that led you to Lasath,” the Cipher said. “But I’m at a loss as to how the thralls even came into existence. If mages are not creating them, who is?”
“You won’t like it,” Kali warned. “Or even likely believe it. But I swear to you, what I’m about to say is the truth.” She held the Cipher’s gaze. “The Fata are real. I know – it’s madness. But it’s true and they’re real, and they’re doing this to us. They have their reasons; apparently there is very old, very…bad blood between our peoples. Apparently, we…invaded their land, ages ago, and they seek revenge.”
The Cipher frowned. “Invaded their land? How? We’ve been here…forever. Since before recorded time.”
“Which is how long?” Kali asked, searching the fruit plate for another strawberry.
“About eight hundred years,” the Cipher replied. “The One god brought us here, gave us our language and culture, and let us grow in our own way, after. Everyone knows that. Even in the Promise—the most ancient of our texts—there is no mention of anyone living here before us.”
“That may be so,” Kali said. “But the Fata say differently. They say…” She caught herself. They say we came to this world on a ship that could fly, a ship so large it blotted out the stars and created thunder with its passage.
She would sound like a lunatic at best and a heretic at worst. Either way, the Cipher wouldn’t believe her. But she had only the truth in her armory. She spotted a familiar red fruit and plucked it free from the rest.
“I mentioned how I was possessed before,” Kali said slowly. “Well, when the Fata had me as their thrall, I learned a great deal from them. I don’t think I was supposed to,” she offered a small smile that the Cipher returned. “I can’t say exactly how humans like you and I came to live…” On this world? Are there other worlds? “…here, but in some ways, that doesn’t matter. The Fata believe we have wronged them, and are taking their version of justice into their own hands.”
“We’re the blade and the hand that holds it,” Tal said suddenly. “But the Fata are pushing both at our necks.”
Kali resisted the urge to touch the scar at her own throat, and instead craned her head up to look at Tal. “Neatly said.”
The Cipher’s gaze held only attentiveness. “There’s more you have not said.”
This was…trickier. Kali toyed with the strawberry, pulling off the leaves and stem. “Have I proven myself enough of a heretic, or would you like more fuel for my pyre?”
“Heretic or not, I risked my career—and possibly my neck—to free you,” the Cipher replied.
A flush crept to Kali’s cheeks and she nodded. “Right. Sorry. I’m not used to Circle folks being so cooperative.” Seren’s light, there wasn’t a way to soften the blow of this next bit.
For surely the hundredth time since her interaction with the Pillars, Kali pictured the blue-green-white marbled sphere of the world, and shivered. “The Fata are…not without leadership. In fact, their leaders and ours are one and the same.” She gathered her courage and looked back at the priestess. “The Pillars.”
All air left the room and Kali’s own heart echoed like war drums in her ears. The Cipher stared at her. No one so much as breathed. A dozen times, Kali wanted to shrink away and look down; a dozen times, she held herself upright, chin raised. She was right. Even about the really bizarre things. She shoved the fruit into her mouth and held back a sigh at the sweet taste.
The Cipher cleared her throat. “You are telling me that the Pillars, the highest religious authorities in Aredia, are ancient fairy monsters turning our people into demons?”
“Well, that’s a gross oversimplification, but…” Kali swallowed. “Yes.”
The Cipher rose and began to pace. “What proof do you have?”
“Baat showed me,” Kali said.
“He told you his name?” the priestess asked, brow raised.
“Among other things,” Kali replied. “When I was imprisoned by the sentinels – the most recent time. All three Pillars came to examine me, but Baat showed me his power. And Stonewall…” His name caught in her throat and she could not finish the thought. “Baat wants to use me – my magic. I assume Tal told you I’m capable of stealing energy from mages and non-mages?”
“Aye, and I’ve heard the stories.”
“Then you know how dangerous I am,” Kali said. “Surely a true, pious Pillar would seek only to destroy me, not claim my magic for his own use.”
The Cipher did not reply at first. “The Pillars. Even if I had proof of what you say, their hold on Aredia is strong. But we must stop the thralls, no matter what.” She took a deep breath. “The sentinels have failed. The queen is irrelevant and the Council is corrupt; our leaders have abandoned Whitewater City. This threat is bigger than any one of us.” She looked at Kali. “From what I can tell, you are indeed the best person to stop the Pillars and the Fata, and thus the thralls. I will help you however I can. I’ll give you asylum with me, give you food, shelter, and whatever other provisions you need. But Ser Hammon is not to leave your side. I cannot risk…” She trailed off, studying Kali, whose face heated at the unspoken words.
I cannot risk a mage killing anyone else.
“Nor can I,” Kali managed, her head light.
No one spoke until the Cipher scrubbed her forehead. “Ea’s balls, what a mess.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Kali said, sighing. “I’m sorry,” she added quickly.
The Cipher eyed her. “What for?”
“This is…a lot for me, and I don’t even believe in the gods as you do. I can’t imagine…”
“It may come as a shock to you,” the Cipher said. “But the Pillars being…other than what they seem is actually the least improbable part of your story.”
Kali frowned. “Strange words, given their source.”
Natanaree was quiet. “The Pillars’ importance to Aredia cannot be overstated. Every time Aredia gets new Pillars—after the former ones grow too old to manage their duties, and so choose their own successors—the positions grow only more powerful. A time of succession draws closer, and there are rumors that Etia plans to transfer her authority to High Commander Argent.”
That made a horrible kind of sense, given what Kali had overheard between Argent and Etia in the garrison.
Tal swore softly. “We can’t let that happen. He can’t have even more power.”
“Aye, it’s hard to imagine what would make him even more unbearable,” Kali replied.
But Tal shook her head. “I believe Argent is a mage. I sensed his powers right before he sent me to the hematite mine. It was just a whisper of magic, but much of the hematite had burned out of my blood by then, and I sensed it. He…compelled me to stand and face my trial,” she added, coughing into her hand. “I…couldn’t, of my own volition.”
“You’re sure he wasn’t just…really persuasive? Training runs deep in you sentinels.”
Tal met her eyes. “I know what I felt. He has magic.”
A knot of fear coiled in Kali’s belly. She knew too well what happened when Fata and human magics mingled. Argent would be unstoppable. Just like I would if I lost control. “Exactly what sort of power do the Pillars have?” she asked the priestess. “Beyond their authority in the government, I mean. I’m afraid I’m out of the know when it comes to the Circle’s inner workings.”
“They used to be great healers,” Natanaree replied. “They siphoned the One god’s power and channel it into helping the sick or injured, or at least, they did, years ago. They appear less frequently now among those who need their aid. And they have…” She seemed to search for the right words. “A way of speaking, of convincing others they are right. During a recent Council session, Etia persuaded the hematite miners to switch to farming their new landscape; no one argued. No one even blinked.”
Kali lowered her gaze, for she’d played a major role in the hematite mine’s destruction. But her mind turned over the priestess’s words. Baat had tried such compulsion with her, too, as had the Fata when they’d possessed her. “Are there any records of the previous Pillars?” Kali asked. “Perhaps if we know more about their history, we’ll understand their current state.”
“You should check the archives in the great Temple of the One, here in Lasath,” Natanaree replied, nodding. “I’ll see that you have permission to enter, and dissuade anyone from asking too many questions.”
“Of course,” Kali muttered, grimacing. “I’m sure they’ll love a mage traipsing through their holy library.”
