by Mike Truk
“Yes, sepulchros,” and to her credit her voice was unruffled and calm.
Once she was gone, I eyed Mavernus. “Within my line of sight at all times?”
“Yes, yes. The ambush will catch you when you are least prepared, am I right? On the porcelain throne being a perfect example. But don’t be coy, Kellik. Seraphina has dedicated herself to the Hanged God. Bowel functions, intercourse, self-gratification - whatever personal habits you wish to indulge in will neither interest not dismay her. Think of her as a second shadow, ready to save your life the moment the assassins break in.”
“I - ah, yes. Great. Though - never mind. Thank you, sepulchros.”
He waved a hand vaguely in my direction. “Yes, yes. Now go. I must rest. Sleep. Perchance to dream. For I have exhausted myself, and all this palaver has wearied my soul. Time to contemplate death for a spell. Hmm.” And his eyelids sank and closed.
I bit my lower lip, cast around the room one last time, and then slipped out. Success! My stride had a bit of a bounce to it, and I dug a coin out of my pouch so that I could flip it up and snatch it out of the air, again and again.
Success! More than success, even: if Baleric and his dour crew were going to hunt Gloom Knights, then their kind were doomed to extinction. Which, while it wouldn’t materially affect the assassination squad coming for me, was all to the good.
Seraphina stood by the doorway, having wasted no time in fetching a gray suede pack which she’d slung over one slender shoulder. She was frowning at nothing, troubled perhaps by her thoughts, but at the sight of me she perked up.
“So, you’re the target of an assassination squad? That’s exciting!”
I paused at the doorway. “I - yes. I mean, it’s exciting, but in a bad way, you know?”
“Oh, sure, if you don’t want to die,” she said as if allowing for varied points of view. “Which, of course, you don’t, so bad luck.”
She followed me down the steps and out into the abandoned street. “Why do they want to kill you so badly?”
“I’m kind of tearing their entire world apart.”
“Oh, that would do it. I think? I mean, obviously, it has. Why are you doing that?”
“Because the Family… do you know about the Family?”
“Yep! Well, sort of. They’re like a…” She frowned and gestured vaguely before her, as if seeking to mold a lump of clay into a slightly different lump of clay. “They’re a criminal enterprise, aren’t they? Kind of sort of run the city?”
“Did,” I said. “I’ve been putting a stop to that.”
“Oh, all right. Why are you doing that?”
“They’re - well. They were a tool of the former ruler of Port Gloom used to keep the masses oppressed and distracted from the reality of their plight. And they prey on the weak, use mutilated women with magical talent to maintain their dominance, and are a blight on the soul of Port Gloom?”
“Oh, that sounds bad, right.” Seraphina nodded vigorously, but her frown had a performative feel to it. “That is bad, right?”
“Very bad.”
“Right. Very bad. Because…?”
“Because we want people to not be victimized?”
“We do? Then good! Family’s gotta go.”
I studied her sidelong. “Do you get out of the cathedral much?”
She was gazing around with avid curiosity. “Me? Oh no. Pretty much never.”
“Never? You live in their all the time?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty great. Lots to read, lots of time to think about things, you know?”
“I - sure. The reading. Mostly about death?”
“Pretty exclusively, yeah.”
“Right.”
“But it’s not all death, death, death,” said Seraphina, a touch of defensiveness to her voice. “I mean, yeah, it’s mostly death, but there are some very interesting types in the catacombs. Percy, for example.”
“Percy?”
“A haverghrastul. You wouldn’t know what that is. Like, uh, a sinkhole that catches wandering spirits and knits them together into a composite? That you can talk to? If you catch him at the right time he can be really hilarious.” She turned to face me, walking sideways with sudden energy, and clapped her hands. “This one time? Like, three different parts of him got into a screaming contest? And nobody was responding my questions, so I started screaming too? And it confused the Ashen Garden out of Percy - all of him stopped screaming, and then I stopped, and there was this loooong silence, and then we all cracked up, it was great.”
I raised both eyebrows and forced myself to nod. “That sounds… yeah. Wonderful.”
“Uh huh.” She completely missed my skepticism, and turned to walk forward once more. “And, you know. Secrets, hidden chambers, passages that go to forbidden rooms, mysteries lost to time, quests that were failed by previous seekers which I can now take up and try to accomplish, the accumulation of power, my eventual rise to Exemplar - lots to keep me busy.”
“That your goal? Make Exemplar?”
“Sure. I mean, why not? I figure, if you’re going to dedicate your life to the Hanged God, you might as well go all the way, right? Otherwise, what’s the point? So I’m walking the Ashen Path, though Baleric says I’m walking it very slowly.” She grinned self-consciously. “But to be honest, I’m in no rush. I’d be happy to hit Exemplar when I’m like, thirty or something. For now, everything is too interesting.”
“Yeah, I can only imagine.”
“Mmmhmm.” She walked along, casting me subtle sidelong glances, and then blurted out, “So, Kellik, what are some of your prized hobbies?”
Her attempt to make conversation was so artless I couldn’t help but smile. “Hobbies?”
She turned to do her sideways skip again as she faced me. “You know, things you do in your spare time when you have no pressing official obligations. Like, I enjoy making candles with different scents hidden in each successive layer. The sepulchros won’t use them in official rites, because he says some of the scents are inappropriate, but that doesn’t stop me. In a way, it makes the hobby all the more mine, if you know what I mean? Something I do just for myself. And jewelry making. And bone sorting.”
“Bone sorting?”
She gave an embarrassed smile. “Admittedly a waste of time, but I find it pleasing. What you do, you see, is go down into the catacombs and find a disordered sarcophagus or tomb, and then arrange the bones contained within so that everything is where it should be. Much trickier with mass graves, but those can be even more satisfying in the long run. To sort out six or seven or even twenty distinct skeletal systems? Ah! Like… do you ever find a particularly tangled ball of string, and spend, like several hours untangling it? That feeling you get when the string is completely free and you can spool it neatly - just the best.”
“Oh,” I said, fighting to keep my tone politely neutral. “I, ah, haven’t done that, to be honest.”
“No? That’s fine. We all have different hobbies, and you don’t get to live in a cathedral of the Hanged God with access to hundreds of layers-worth of catacombs. Not your fault, really.”
“Wait, hundreds of layers?”
“Yes?”
“That’s… a mile or more going down?”
“Uh huh?”
Her expression was one of bright helpfulness, but clearly she didn’t understand my shock. “Never mind. Um. My hobbies.”
And that gave me pause. What were my hobbies? “I enjoy, you know. Accumulating power?”
She frowned. “I don’t know if that’s a hobby?”
“I mean, I guess it’s kind of my job, too. But… let’s see.” I bit my lower lip and stared up at the ruined rooftops of the buildings that yet stood in the Tangles. “I used to enjoy good booze, but that doesn’t have much of an effect on me anymore.”
“Unfortunate.”
“Very. I like spending time with my friends, but we’re so busy these days it’s almost all work. Almost.”
“You have friends
? Like Percy?”
“Kind of? More like, you know. Other living humans and elves.”
“Oh, sure. I know all about that.”
“Right. Um.” I drew a blank. What would I do if I had spare time? “I go through a lot of financial reports. And reimagining the best way to organize the city guard. How to raise the militia more efficiently. And…”
She was looking at me with a growing expression of pity. “Those are your hobbies?”
“No! I mean, yeah, but. I used to enjoy gambling. Ten Fingers, or a good game of Bloody Knuckles.”
“Oh! That sounds fun! When’s the last time you played?”
“Years ago? Shit.” I scratched at my chin. Last time had been when I was a simple aspirant. “I guess I’ve been really busy.”
Seraphina patted my shoulder comfortingly. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find a little quality time for yourself someday soon. You should. It’s important. Can’t all be work, otherwise what’s the point?”
“Well, work’s important. What I do is changing hundreds of thousands of peoples’ lives.”
“You know, we Hanged God types have a unique perspective on that. Here’s a secret: they’re all going to die. Each and every one of them.”
“I know that.”
“Point being, this?” She gestured at the ruined street. “This is your life. And sooner or later - probably sooner, truth be told - the Hanged God will call your name. And nobody on their death bed regrets not having worked more.”
I laughed. “And you know would know all about living how? Given that you never even leave your cathedral?”
Both her eyebrows rose sharply. “That, Kellik, was rude.” And she put on a burst of speed to walk ahead.
“Hey! I’m sorry. Hey, wait up.” I jogged up to her side. “Look, you’re right, I’m sorry, that was rude. I guess I’m just a little defensive about this.”
“That’s all right, I forgive you!” And she beamed at me. “But you should find things you like to do before you’re dead.”
“All right, deal. But, you know? I’m probably not going to die for a very, very long time.”
She gave me a knowing smile. “Everyone thinks that.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“No, wait. Look.” And I stopped walking. Seraphina took a few steps more the stopped to turn and face me. I drew my dagger. “Watch.”
And I plunged it in my stomach.
Her eyes widened in shock, and she took a quick step forward. “Kellik! Why are you killing yourself?”
She didn’t sound all that alarmed, though.
I pulled the knife out, a wave of weakness and watery wrongness passing through me, but in a second or two the wound healed over and I felt fine again. “See?”
“Hmm?” She frowned at me. “See what? You just stabbed yourself in the stomach for no good reason?”
“There are good reasons to stab yourself in the stomach?”
“Oh, sure. Wait. You’re taking being stabbed really well.”
“Because I’m already better. Look.” And I pulled up my tunic to show unblemished skin under smears of blood.
“Oh wow.” She leaned in really close and probed at my stomach with her finger. “Where did your stab wound go?”
“I healed it.”
She straightened, looked at me suspiciously. “I thought people couldn’t do that.”
“They can’t. Only trolls can, and even a war troll doesn’t heal as quickly as I do.”
“Oh, you’re a troll? I didn’t know that!”
“Well, a kind of troll. But yes. So my point being, I’m going to live a long time.”
“Because you can stab yourself as much as you want?”
“No, Seraphina. Because it doesn’t matter who stabs me, or how much poison I drink, or if I fall down the steps, I’ll be fine. And I’ll live a long time naturally, like centuries and centuries.”
“Oh, I see.” She considered. “That’s weird.”
“It is pretty weird,” I conceded.
“Then why are you worried about these assassins?”
“They can probably kill me if they try hard enough. I think cutting off my head would do the trick.”
“Right, right. I see. Huh.” She looked me up and down. “Well, that sounds very useful. And I’ve heard that elves live for a long time, too.”
“Yeah, I think they do.”
“But they all do it together, right? Who are you going to do it with?”
Her question, artless and innocent as it was, sank deeper than my own knife had a moment ago. “Good question. Let’s keep walking.”
Seraphina fell in with me again. “I guess you could become friends with elves? Or dwarves.”
“I’ve got a dark elf friend.”
“Oh, that’s nice!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re probably the only person in the world who would respond that way.” Then I thought of Iris, and felt a new wave of sadness pass through me. “One of the few, at least.”
Seraphina shrugged. “Friends are friends, right? Hey - do you think we can be friends?” Then she winced. “Sorry. I know it’s too soon. Can you forget I asked that?”
“No, we can be friends.” I wrapped an arm around her skinny shoulders and gave a squeeze. “Sure.”
“We can?” She clapped rapidly again and gave a hop. “That’s great! I’ve got so many jokes to share with you. Everyone in the cathedral’s heard them all a dozen times over.”
I glanced at her warily. “Jokes?”
She nodded seriously. “Jokes. They’re, ah, how to put it, like, descriptions of situations that cause you to laugh through either a display of like, power imbalances, the misfortune of others, or, ah, unexpected juxtapositions.”
“I know what a joke is,” I said. “I was just surprised.”
“Why?” She stared at me seriously. “You think we don’t all enjoy telling jokes in the cathedral?”
I hesitated. How to answer that without hurting her feelings?
“That was a joke!” She doubled over, hand over her stomach as if laughing, and then skipped ahead to turn and walk backward. “See? Haha!”
“Oh! Yeah. I see.” And I couldn’t help but smile.
A second later her heel caught on a broken cobble and she tripped and fell on her ass.
“Hey!” I lunged forward, too late to catch her hand. “You all right?”
“Ow.” She scowled down at the ground as if it had personally betrayed her. “Dangerous out here.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” I took her hand and pulled her up. “Keep an eye out. Remember? Assassination squads could be anywhere.”
“Sure, right. But I’m not too worried.”
“You’re not?”
“Why would I be?” And she gave me a blithe smile. “Meeting the Hanged God is going to be so great. I don’t want to do it right away, but if it happens?” She raised both hands and squeezed them into fists. “It’ll be so great.”
“Right. Well, let’s avoid that for now. Come on. Let’s get you to Thorne Manor. I’ve lots of people to introduce you to.”
She stopped. “Lots?”
I turned back to face her. She suddenly looked nervous. “That all right? They’re my friends.”
“Oh. I guess… I mean, do you think…?”
I smiled warmly. “I’m sure they will.”
Her nervousness melted away before a happy smile. “Oh good! Then yes, let’s go!” And she skipped past me, gray satchel bouncing on her shoulder. “I’m so excited! This is going to be great!”
I shook my head ruefully and followed after. “Sure is.”
Chapter 11
The following week was frenetic. Seraphina was a shadow, always standing in the corner of the room, following me from a dozen paces, accompanying me on my carriage rides or standing at the gallery above the Star Chamber as I deliberated, listened, and argued with my fellow councilors.
A
constant, bright, equally parts eerie and delightful shadow, but my attention was quickly focused on the matters at hand.
Emerging from Thorne Manor for an emergency session at the Star Chamber late one evening, I looked to my companions. Time was so short that we now held our meetings while en route to different locations, and I’d acquired a massive coach in which we could all comfortably sit, and a dedicated Pony hansom cab that trailed us wherever we went.
We were parked outside the manor proper, awaiting Pony’s emergence. Something about having to pass a pile of rocks. Happened once a month, and when Pony had to go, he had to go.
I chose not to inquire further.
“Latest on the Lioness?” I asked.
Cerys didn’t need to glance down at the sheaf of papers on her lap. “We’ve now multiple confirmations that she’s left Olandipolis, and we can say with confidence that she’s marching on Port Gloom.”
“Isn’t that a peach,” muttered Netherys, chin on her palm, gazing out across the manor’s elegant garden.
“Estimates vary wildly, but my personal scouts guess that she’s marshaled an army of over ten thousand. This is composed of a core of professional soldiers and White Sun guards, probably around two thousand strong, and then a mass of fanatics some six thousand in all. The remaining two thousand are composed of mercenary companies, outriders, and a wing of the White Bolts.”
“White Bolts,” I asked. “Elaborate.”
“Pegasi. The elite guard of the Cathedral of Divine Wisdom. They’ve never left the capital of the faith before, but she’s… well.”
“Great. A wing of pegasi. So we’ll be dealing with aerial combat as well.”
“Aerial and magical. Each rider is an accomplished mage or wielding a magic weapon.”
I wanted to laugh. “Why not? Sure. All right. So they’ll be attacking us from the skies.”
“My guess is that they’ll be used to attack the gates from within to open them to the army,” said Cerys softly. “Strafing attacks from the air will clear the guard towers and battlements, allowing the Lioness’ elite to reach the gates without taking too much damage.”