by Trevol Swift
Jhee hesitated to voice her current inquiries into the performers. With the archivist on a tear, it would be too easy for them to become the shark’s bait. If one did murder, only that one should pay. “Some, Abbess.”
“Could Sister Elkanah be right about Sister Serra? At least for the murders.”
“Possibly. For me to pronounce sentence yet or even make an accusation now, is premature.”
Pyrmo brought her hands to her esca and murmured a prayer. “In exchange for the understanding and discretion you have shown me and my problem, I’ll allow you more time to complete your inquiries and hold off on charging Sister Serra or calling in the Invokers. But please, I urge you to hurry, before this mess boils over. Sisters Serra and Elkanah publicly confessed to serious breaches of the abbey rules. At the very least, I’ll order them confined to quarters where they can’t antagonize each other. However, if anything else untoward happens, I’ll be forced to Invoke the Xendatia Cleansing.”
Jhee and Pyrmo returned to the main hall. The abbess announced she would not invoke a cleansing until Jhee concluded her investigation.
The Penitents
Sister Serra was taken away to be put under guard. She stopped Jhee as she passed. “Watch Elkanah. You surprised me in the pods when you said found expansion plans for the archives. After Saheli died, I switched out the compromise plans for mine.”
A tapestry at the far end of the auditorium rustled. Jhee crept toward it. The decoration flung aside, and the vizier beckoned her.
“Lady Bathsheba? What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t hear back from you regarding my message. I wanted to speak to you about something I found. It is a matter of some urgency, but not out here in the open. My quarters. Meet me as soon as you conclude your business here.”
Message? In all the commotion, Jhee had forgotten about the note the lady slipped her. Lady Bathsheba hurried off.
Sister Elkanah tried to slink away in the interim. The prioress met her at the entrance. “I suspect the Justicar has some questions for you.”
“Thank you, prioress, I do. You uncovered hothouse expansion plans.”
“Yes.”
“You killed Saheli because you thought she was going to gut the archives and expand the fields and orchards.”
“No. At first, that’s what I thought. After I had confessed my transgressions to Saheli. She showed me the full expansion plan, including those for archives. True, I felt her too lax, but the dead cannot be improved only remade. A lesson I punish myself for not learning sooner.
“I understood the hard position she was in. It could not have been easy taking me in and keeping my secret. Was Saheli too lenient with the clergy and novices? Yes, but that was her way. Those writings, that heretical trash, could ruin her reputation. I should know. As a Doombringer, I thought I was on the side of the Makers, but now I see I was doing the Unmakers’ work. I didn’t want Saheli to go down that path. The Makers gave men and women roles and arts, and it was a mistake to force a misguided notion of arcane equanimity on them. One they were not ready for.”
“Those writings? The missing sermon and Sister Niza’s missing account?”
“What do you mean missing?”
Jhee held up the empty folder. “Quit your games and stalling. Show me that sermon and Scholar Niza’s account, now.”
“No,” Sister Elkanah said. “No. It must be here.”
“Check for yourself, if you don’t believe me.”
“That’s not right. The boards, the papers on her desk were full of cyphers.”
“Sister Elkanah, you’ve gone through quite an effort to conceal her final Sermon. Perhaps to cover up your part in her death.”
“No, but I feared the roots of Unmaking taking hold. I won’t deny being glad Saheli can’t cut archival spending or sell my collections, only to see the monies diverted to the hothouses and fields.”
The prioress clasped Elkanah’s hands. “And outreach. Saheli wasn’t anti-knowledge. Indeed, she had taken great pains to enhance our learning facilities. Overhauling our fee structure. Reducing both the tithe and the tuition. She wanted to make it more affordable and accept more male students. Maintaining the archives was expensive. By enhancing our crop production and selling off some of the relics and books, she could subsidize the classes. Pay more attention to the living than the dead and relics of the past. Divest some rare books in favor of textbooks. She planned to use the sale of rare books and relics to finance the purchase of textbooks and modern equipment. Workshops, labs, vocational facilities, adepts, and cyphering teachers.”
Sister Elkanah snatched her hands away. “She wanted to dedicate more and more resources to refugees and teaching men arcana. I won’t stand for it! It is because of my past I know the dangers and wickedness unleashed by teaching men artifice. She could not see what a dangerous path that was. I thought as she did once, except I was trying to doom the worlds. Then the first alignment came, then the second, and then nothing. The third and fourth Doombringer rebellions had accounted to little more than mobs and riots. Though still deadly.”
“Now, Sister Elkanah, tell me about this stolen antiquity.”
“I realize now I was being lured away from the archive. A few items were stolen: an early uncensored copy of the Grand Design; a gilded metal and hardwood strongbox with some personal papers and family tree; some drawing puzzles; and parts of a Pillarist, arcane polyptych. When I caught Yaou with a triptych—a piece of the polyptych—and the strongbox, he threatened to reveal our indiscretion unless I taught him how to decode and perform the cyphers therein. Saheli came upon us soon after and confiscated both. I couldn’t very well tell her how he obtained them. Saheli already knew about my past with the Doombringers. She said this abbey was a place for second chances and atonement.
“Later, I confessed my transgressions and urged her to burn the triptych. An act I found myself unable to do. She could not either, I suppose. To destroy a relic, even a blasphemous one, was anathema to us both.”
“And her missing sermon?”
“Being both familiar with male cyphering and having read the triptych myself, I recognized the source of her inspiration. She had taken the theorems and built on them. All believed she had transcended to the Spheres, while I knew the Makers struck her down for her apostasy. I returned later to destroy it and retrieve the strongbox. I found the triptych and strongbox missing. That profane relic. We should have destroyed it. It’s dangerous. Anathema.”
The sister’s body language showed no indications of lying. “I’ll discuss what to do with you with the abbess later. In the meantime, perhaps you should retire to your cell until then.”
“You have no authority—”
The prioress touched Sister Elkanah’s elbow. “Please, do as she suggests and don’t force the matter.”
Sister Elkanah stiffened her posture and strode from the auditorium.
Jhee pinched the bridge of her nose. “Still no closer to finding that storm drenched sermon.”
The prioress contemplated the floor, then mumbled, “I know where it is. Or I did. I saw Sister Elkanah take the sermon. I used my master keys to take it from her cell, where I also found the account. To protect Saheli’s reputation. I’m sorry, Justicar. I knew she’d destroy it. Maybe I should have let her. They’ll use it to ruin Saheli’s reputation.”
Jhee huffed. “Where are they now?”
“I put them in the crypts for safekeeping.”
19 The Eye
Shapes in Fog
Jhee met Lady Bathsheba at the hermitage near the springs.
“Did you come alone?” Lady Bathsheba asked.
She peered out into night behind Jhee. Jhee did likewise. “As far as I know.”
Lady Bathsheba pulled Jhee inside. She held up an amulet. “If you be a spirit or demon, this talisman of the Wave Witch compels you to answer me now in the affirmative.”
Jhee fixed the woman an exasperated look. She brandished the amulet at Jhee again
. “No. I am not a spirit or demon.”
Lady Bathsheba visibly relaxed.
Jhee and Lady Bathsheba sat at the tea-table assessing the merits of the tasty cod the monks caught today. The delicate, moist flesh practically melted in the mouth. It was so incredibly juicy. Jhee quite thoroughly enjoyed it. “Shep is a great diver. He has never caught something as succulent as this. But close, very close.”
“Fresh caught. I bypass the kitchens and pantries and acquire my food straight from the docks and market. More so recently. As a precaution.”
The land meat, rotisserie goat, smelled like roast perfection. It’s scarce she had any; even then seldom so rare. She had loved it as a child. The dietary minefield she had to navigate with her household made it simpler not to have any. She closed her eyes and savored the delicious taste. If only it were rarer. She had it so infrequently, even more cooked than she liked, it was divine. “Divine.”
“Glad you enjoy it.”
They partook of some white abalone. Jhee politely held her wine cup. Between whatever she had drank with the performers and her blow to the head, she needed to keep her head clear. “I wanted to thank you so much for your help, Vizier. Especially with Shep’s troubles. You mentioned a matter you wanted to bring to my attention.”
Lady Bathsheba coughed. “You are welcome. It’s been good to get out again. I swear I feel years younger. It’s a good thing I’m not. I might well give you a run for your money with Bright Harmony or even Dawn Wolf a run for you. Were that I were a few years younger and not a hermit here, I would certainly have to steal him. My reclusive lifestyle is not a good fit for such a bright treasure such as him.”
Jhee thought back to Miramar, Mirrei’s mother and once her closest friend, standing alone on the docks the last time she saw her. That is who Lady Bathsheba reminded her of. The defiant Miramar. So many regrets. Nothing to be done about it now except move forward and try to do better. Jhee wiped her muzzle with the napkin.
Lady Bathsheba coughed again. She covered her mouth with a fist. “Pardon me. Something must have gone down the wrong pipe.”
She took another drink from her wine cup. A coughing fit overtook her. Her pallor changed. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. Lady Bathsheba stared at Jhee with panic then gaped at their wine cups. She dropped hers and knocked Jhee’s from her hand before falling into Jhee’s arms. Her skin had turned a purplish color. She clawed at the collar around her throat.
Jhee produced her inhaler from her robes and gave the Lady two puffs. Lady Bathsheba calmed down. Her breath came in a steady though wheezy tempo. It took a few minutes before her color turned back to a color resembling normal. The lady reached out a shaky hand to the emergency call button.
Jhee brought out her conch as she went to the call button. She pressed the button several times. Nothing happened. Jhee swore. She got no response from Bax or Shep. She slipped Lady Bathsheba’s arm around her shoulder. “You need help.”
“Where?”
“The agri-pods. We need kinberry to counteract the effects of the poison.”
Lady Bathsheba struggled against her. “Not Sister Serra. Take me to the infirmary.”
“The infirmary then. I’ll have someone meet us there with a counter-agent.”
Jhee flung open the Lady’s door. A figure in a bat-faced Cheiropthys mask stood there. The garish tongue hung out underneath a crest of extravagant plumage. There came a whir followed by a hiss. White smoke billowed from the mouth. Jhee coughed and waved her hand in front of her face. Warmth crept through her head. Her vision skewed. She sank to her knees. The figure brushed past her. She reached feebly at a hem. It shook off her limp hand. Jhee captured an image with her conch before falling against the wall.
Consciousness came and went. Jhee felt like she was being dragged and sometimes carried. Drizzling rain driven by a chill wind passed over her skin. A cry went out. She found herself dumped on the wet, muddy ground. The air held the slight scent of sulfur and effervescence.
Raised voices argued. Then a loud splash. More cries.
Jhee stumbled to her feet. She could not tell if the fog came from her mental state or the weather. She staggered among pools of water. A satin bubble, brightly-colored, caught her eye in the nearby spring: Lady Bathsheba’s robe.
The strands of the elements slipped through Jhee’s mental grasp. She gathered enough to bring Lady Bathsheba within arm’s reach. With a great heave, she pulled her from the water. Jhee collapsed backward, unable to do much else.
Weird phantasmal shapes in the fog swam before her in the mist. The image of that fiend, Hethyr, approached her out of the fog. Fiend. Abuser of men. Sister Elkanah burst from the fog. Jhee’s eyes became too heavy to remain open.
Jhee sank under the ocean again, drowning. She couldn’t touch bottom. The waves battered her about. Every now and then they slammed her against hard, sharp rocks. The wind forced from her lungs. Her limbs were so heavy. She could not fight anymore. Mouth clamped shut, lungs burning, she contemplated the briny depths below. As she decided to let go, an enormous, brilliant, scaly eye opened, bathing her in light. She opened her mouth to scream. Ocean poured in. A hand grabbed her collar.
Shadowed
“Justicar. Justicar. Wake up. Wake up.”
A hand tapped Jhee’s face repeatedly, but gently. She groaned and opened her eyes. The infirmarian’s face hovered over her. She uprighted herself.
Lady Bathsheba lay on the bed in the quiet room. On the exam table beside Jhee, resided the prioress.
“Are they?” Jhee croaked.
“They’re alive. Barely. Praise be the Makers.”
“Blessed are the First Makers. What happened to the prioress?”
“No one’s sure. She came to the infirmary shortly before you did complaining of shortness of breath.”
“Similar symptoms to Prospective Yaou?”
“Maybe.”
“Justicar?” Lady Bathsheba called out in a meek voice. She held out a hand to Jhee who took hold of it. “Thank you.”
“Please, don’t try to speak. I never thanked you for intervening on my husband’s behalf. Thank you.”
Jhee sat vigil by the Lady’s bedside pondering the questions. This abbey, this place of rest and quiet contemplation hid so many secrets. If this was the prelude to the capital, the lessons learned here, she would not soon forget.
The door to the infirmary banged open. Sister Elkanah strode in triumphant with the remaining senior clergy. “Good. You’re awake. This time I have proof Sister Serra is the fiend,” she proclaimed.
She thrust a bit of torn silk at Jhee. “What is this?”
“I tore this off your masked attacker when I saved your lives. You should count yourself lucky Zalver and I had decided to shadow you to ensure you remained on a righteous path.”
Jhee’s face burned. “Is that so? What if I hadn’t?”
“Then it would simply be more evidence for the Invokers of the Unmaker’s work.”
“I see.”
“I’ll summon the abbess and have her put Sister Serra in the Corrections Hall at once.”
“On what proof?”
“I gave you the proof.”
“You know this is Sister Serra’s how?”
“I don’t—. The mask.”
“I assumed you inventoried your masks.”
“Yes.”
“How many were missing?”
“Three.”
“You retrieved how many from the horticulturist?”
“Three. Which I put in the custody of the prioress.”
Jhee displayed the images she had captured on her conch to Sister Elkanah. “Was this one?”
“No. But you saw—?”
“I saw a masked figure and at some later point you.”
“Me? I rescued you. Why are you questioning me?”
“What proof do I have you weren’t the one who attacked us?”
Sister Elkanah regarded the rest of her mob with a pleading expression
. “Serra had the masks.”
“Thanks to your accusation Sister Serra was under guard, which meant she could not have attacked us.”
“An accomplice. One of her fellow debauchees. Several masks were missing.”
“Which don’t resemble the one in these images taken during the assault. May I further submit ghosts and demons don’t have separable garments?”
Sister Elkanah tried one last feeble excuse, “But she stole my relics and violated the sanctity of the archives.”
“A courtesy you no doubt repaid when you and your minions trashed her hothouse. Or do you claim to have neatly turned it upside down searching for your flimsy evidence? Her mischief and yours are matters for the abbess, not me.”
Jhee marched to the dejected archivist. Her nostrils flared. She took a good whiff.
“What are you—?”
Cold and musty like her relics. It was not her. “Go. Before I change my mind. Be lucky I am more considered in judgment than you. I’m going to ask the abbess to confine both you and the horticulturist to quarters until I resolve this matter. Try my patience, and I’ll have you confined to the Corrections Hall you clamor so much about with only a copy of the Cyclogenesis sermons.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Try me.”
Jhee ruled Sister Elkanah out as the person who bashed her on the head and nothing more. The scent of the attacker was so familiar. Yet, so far, she had not matched it to a culprit.
20 The Unexpected Guests
The Actress
Now that Jhee had dealt with both the archivist and the horticulturist, she needed to collect her thoughts and resume her investigation. Before all this nonsense began, she had been investigating the performers. She replayed her misadventures in the fog. She had seen various figures. Sister Elkanah. Ms. Hethyr. With her compromised mental state, she was not sure which were real and imaginary. What she did know is, she had no good intelligence on Ms. Hethyr’s whereabouts since the storeroom after the fire show and her heated exchange with Ms. Anshula.