Chaos Queen--Fear the Stars (Chaos Queen 4)

by Christopher Husberg

  “We must stop the Nine,” Nayome said. “I see nothing in the Denomination that says they are remotely working toward that. Not yet. So, if this will help, then yes. Yes, I am committed.”

  Cinzia nodded, a flood of relief rushing through her. “Good,” she said. “Good. Now, as far as our plan is concerned…”

  26

  ALAIN AND MORAYNE STOOD in the Trinacrya at the center of Triah, waiting for Cinzia’s signal.

  “You really think this will work?” Morayne asked.

  Alain tried to stop his eyes from darting around nervously, from looking over his shoulder every few moments, but it was almost impossible. Bright red flames—imaginary, thankfully, at least for now—crept at the edge of his mind. Living a life of serenity was simple for other people, but complicated for him. A year ago, he would have been out of his mind with nervousness; today he felt relatively calm. Compared to a normal person, he supposed he would seem quite anxious, but for him it was a decent day.

  That said, espionage had never been his specialty.

  “Look at me,” Morayne said.

  It was midday, and a chilly breeze drifted across the open Trinacrya area, despite the clear skies and the sun beating down on them. Alain tightened his long, dark overcoat, grateful for the chilly weather. He rarely took his coat off anyway, so he might as well be in the cold.

  The breeze brought with it the smell of the ocean. Not the smell of fish, thank the goddess—one of the worst parts of this city was the rancid smell near the docks. Fish were an occasional meal in Mavenil, given its proximity to a river, but there were not entire districts of the city devoted to the gutting and cleaning of fish of every type. Here, it was miserable.

  Neither the chilly air nor the sea breeze, absent of fish smell, managed to calm Alain’s nerves, however.

  Alain looked down at Morayne as he popped each of his knuckles, one by one.

  “We’re all right,” she said, her voice low and soothing. “We can do this. Together. Remember?”

  Alain nodded, but he didn’t feel any better. “You just asked whether this was going to work,” he said.

  “And I still have my doubts,” she said flatly. “We don’t know these people, and we don’t know whether anything will come of this that will have any effect on the Nine,” she said. “But we’re us, Alain. You know what we’ve been through. You know what we can do.”

  Alain’s breathing slowed, and the flames in his mind receded. She was right. No matter how much work he did on himself, no matter how much he helped others, he was still surprised at how easy it could be to fall back into his old self.

  “You’re right,” he said. “We can do this.” He held her face and kissed her.

  “I like it when you do that.”

  Alain’s heart quickened. “You seem in good spirits, at least,” he said.

  “I am,” Morayne said, her voice calm. Alain was glad to see her this way. He loved all of her, whether she was happy and competent or depressed and all over the place, but it was good to see her erring on the side of the former, now of all times.

  “But,” Morayne said, “just because I’m feeling good at the moment doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten our disagreement.”

  Alain swore.

  “Don’t you swear around me.”

  Alain was tempted to swear again, but let it go.

  “I thought we’d taken care of that,” Alain said.

  Morayne scoffed. “If you think that was taking care of a conversation, you’ve got a lot to learn. We aren’t even close to resolving that particular issue.”

  “Then how can you be in such a good mood?” She looked off into the distance, past the Fane and the House of Aldermen, and toward the ocean.

  “You know me,” she said.

  True enough. Sometimes she struggled when there was nothing to struggle over, and other times she felt great, giddy even, despite the Sfaera crashing down around them.

  “Also,” she said, “just because we’re having a disagreement doesn’t mean we disagree.”

  Alain blinked. That was exactly what having a disagreement meant, wasn’t it?

  He was about to say as much when he noticed a little girl with a long red scarf running across the Trinacrya toward Canta’s Fane.

  That would be Astrid, rushing to meeting Cinzia and the others, and that would also be Morayne’s signal.

  “You see that?” Alain asked.

  “I did,” Morayne said. She looked so calm. Alain wished he could experience what it felt like to be so still, just once. His own foot tapped incessantly, while his fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

  “Then here we go,” Alain said.

  “Here we go.”

  Then the earth beneath their feet began to move.

  The motion was slow and subtle at first, as if something deep underground was vibrating, momentarily and ever so slightly. It was more of a buzz, and felt more in the air than from the ground, really.

  Three or four dozen people were walking through or sitting in the central area of the Trinacrya, while the edges were lined with many more, some selling wares, others just lounging, walking, or chatting with one another. Alain noticed a few heads perk up and look around, clearly wondering what the vibration was, but most simply continued to go about their business.

  Alain wanted to ask if she was keeping calm, but he knew the question would probably compound the answer. Instead, he reached for her hand.

  “Doing fine,” she said, answering his unasked question anyway. She stared blankly out at nothing, her face tightening in concentration. “Just about to… pick it up a notch…”

  Just as she said the words, the vibration gradually, almost imperceptibly grew in power until the ground beneath their feet was, quite unmistakably, trembling.

  Everyone in the Trinacrya stopped what they were doing, looking about.

  “Earthquake!” someone shouted. A few people began rushing, some away from the center of the Trinacrya, some toward it. Most remained in place; earthquakes were not altogether uncommon in Triah, and most, historically, were nothing to worry about.

  “You still in control?” Alain asked.

  “I’m never in control,” Morayne said through gritted teeth.

  Alain smiled at that, but he felt her hand tighten on his.

  “You see an option?” he asked.

  “I think so,” she said, her eyes finally focusing. She nodded her head at a space in the Trinacrya, roughly fifteen rods away, where no people sat, ran, or walked.

  “Then let’s get this over with,” Alain said, more for her benefit than anyone else’s. He could not imagine the concentration and control Morayne had to muster to do what she was doing now. If Alain were to try to control fire on this scale, well… he’d burn himself and everything around him into ash in seconds, he was sure.

  Morayne clenched her jaw, and then several things happened at once. The trembling earth beneath their feet intensified, for the briefest moment. Cries of shock, fear, and confusion sounded throughout the courtyard as people either began running or started, planting their feet firmly in place, looking around frantically. Above the cries, a loud crack sounded throughout the Trinacrya. And, in the space where Morayne now stared, her brow slick with perspiration, a long, jagged fissure appeared in the stone.

  The opening widened until it was about an arm’s length, and then the shaking stopped.

  Morayne stumbled, and Alain steadied her. Exhausted, she let her weight fall into his arms. It wasn’t long before she regained her strength and could once again stand on her own feet.

  The shrieks and cries from the people in the Trinacrya had faded, but most still looked around in fear. While tremors were always a startling thing, a moment of peace was not necessarily the end. Sometimes aftershocks swept through after a quake, and on occasion the tremors were only a warning of much larger quakes to come.

  As Alain glanced toward the Fane, he was pleased to see Sons of Canta already pouring out of the building. Thei
r objective in creating a distraction, of course, had chiefly been to vacate as many security forces from the Fane as possible.

  “Did it work?” Morayne asked.

  More Sons continued to pour out of the Fane, with priestesses and matrons following, trying to calm the crowd.

  “I think so,” Alain said.

  Now, it was up to the others.

  * * *

  Cinzia, Knot, Astrid, and the Beldam stood in a small alleyway alongside one edge of Canta’s Fane, staring into the Trinacrya courtyard.

  “Holy shit,” Astrid whispered.

  The shaking of the earth had finally stopped, but Cinzia still gripped Knot’s hand tightly, her other palm pressing firmly into the wall of Canta’s Fane beside her.

  The group stared into the courtyard. Even Knot seemed surprised at the display. While they had formulated their plan, Alain and Morayne had tried to explain the nature of the powers—powers that apparently stemmed from the Daemon Nadir that had infested Mavenil. Cinzia had not quite understood the details of it all, something about madness being the cause of it, and Alain and Morayne helping other people to control their powers, and how Alain could manipulate fire and Morayne earth. Cinzia did have other things on her mind, so it had been difficult to absorb all of the details, but now she wished she had listened more closely.

  When Morayne had said she could cause a distraction with her power, Cinzia had certainly not expected whatever in Oblivion it was she had just seen.

  Code was not surprised at all. He was smiling.

  “Well, I’m glad they’re our friends,” Knot said. “Hate to see what they do to their enemies.”

  The Beldam, however, frowned. “Their power comes from one of the Nine. They cannot be trusted.”

  “They seem trustworthy enough so far,” Cinzia said. “They have done what we asked of them. Now it is our turn for action. Come.”

  Cinzia turned and led the others down the alleyway toward the entrance Nayome had indicated.

  “You are sure this woman will help us enter the Fane?” the Beldam whispered, her breath warming Cinzia’s ear.

  “She will help us,” Cinzia said, “I am sure of it.” She was not sure of it. Far from sure. But they had no other option.

  “If she doesn’t, we can always bust our way in,” Astrid said. “I’m itching for a good fight.”

  Well, there was that option, too, Cinzia supposed. Not that it was a realistic one, but there it was nonetheless.

  “It has been hardly a week since your other adventure.”

  “Don’t physicians recommend at least one good fight a week?” Astrid asked. “I’m due another.”

  “I think that’s scripture, actually,” Code said. “‘Thou shalt brawl with one another at least once each holy set of days, and no less. More is fine, though.’ Something along those lines, eh?”

  Cinzia whirled on them both. “Our goal is not to harm anyone tonight. Anyone. Do you both understand?”

  Astrid rolled her eyes. “I get it, Cinzi, all right? No killing.” She raised both hands. “Fine by me.”

  Cinzia glared at Code, who cocked his head toward Astrid. “What she said.”

  “Unless it’s necessary,” Knot grunted. They were some of the first words Cinzia could remember him saying since they had started this particular mission.

  Cinzia rapped four times on the small door in the alleyway. This one was very different from the Fane’s main entrance. Even the side doors that faced into the Trinacrya on either side of the main doors were large; this one was just large enough for a single person to walk though. Cinzia had been aware of these side doors as a priestess, but they were rarely used.

  Before Cinzia finished knocking, she heard the latch on the other side lift. Inside, Nayome waited for them, a small oil lamp held in one hand. In contrast to the bright daylight, the passageway looked perilously dark.

  “And here I was worried—and hoping, let’s be honest— you would not come,” Nayome said, without a hint of a smile.

  Cinzia took a deep breath. The levity she had felt out in the courtyard was completely gone now, replaced only by a fluttering anxiety in her chest. “We are here, Nayome. Now, please, lead the way.”

  Nayome nodded curtly, motioning them all inside.

  Cinzia turned to Code. “Wait here, please,” she said.

  “Right, like I came all this way to…” Code’s perpetual smile morphed into a frown. “You’re serious.”

  “I am,” Cinzia said. “We can’t have too many people roaming about in there. We will attract enough attention as it is.”

  Code scoffed, but Cinzia held up her hand. “It is not that I do not trust you,” she said. Although, being honest, that was part of it. “It is not that I do not appreciate your skill and talent.” More true, that, but she appreciated those same skills and talents far more in others. “Your place is here, Code. With any luck, we will be coming back through this door soon, without any commotion whatsoever. Stay here, wait for us, and make sure our exit is safe.”

  And the last thing we need is someone encouraging Astrid’s sense of humor.

  Code sniffed. “Bloody guard duty, then,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m a Nazaniin, you know that?”

  This time it was Cinzia’s turn to smile. “I know that, Code. And I have no doubt you are a big, strong, very talented Nazaniin at that. But your place is here.”

  Cinzia turned and followed the others into the dark corridor, leaving Code standing alone, outside in the sun.

  Inside the small passageway, with the door closed, Nayome’s lamp proved the only light. Cinzia’s eyes took a few moments to adjust to the darkness after the daylight, and for a few moments all she could see was the dim light from the lamp Nayome carried as she led them.

  Cinzia and the others remained silent. She had alerted them beforehand that only she was to communicate with Nayome, unless otherwise directed. She imagined Astrid had a difficult time keeping quiet, but everyone had obeyed the rule thus far.

  Nayome and her lamplight turned at the end of the corridor, toward the offices of the Ministry. When they reached the office hall, she looked at the Beldam.

  “I hope you know what you are talking about,” she said. “And at the same time, I hope to the Goddess you do not.”

  Fortunately, Alain and Morayne’s distraction seemed to have worked. They encountered almost no one—Goddessguard, Son, or clergy—and the few people they did see either seemed focused on the earthquake that had just happened outside, or their own business.

  “Don’t like how empty it is,” Knot said quietly.

  Cinzia looked at him. “Was that not the point of the little distraction we orchestrated?”

  Knot grunted, but she knew he was right to be wary.

  They continued up the stairs until they reached the sixth floor. The stairwells on either edge of the office halls stopped at this level, and the only option was to walk through the corridor that led to the offices of the High Camarilla. Cinzia had only been up here a handful of times when she was a priestess. Here, the decor was significantly more expensive than any of the previous levels. Gilded columns lined the hallway on either side between the doorways, and the marble floor was etched in gold and silver. Carved busts of important people in the Denomination’s history lined one of the walls, and Cinzia recognized Joana Jars, the youngest woman to ever hold the office of Essera. Her face was thin, even for a woman so young—she was only nineteen when she ascended—and the sculptor had made her eyes strangely narrow, as if she were looking at someone with faint disapproval or suspicion.

  She would be looking at you that way, if she had even a remote idea what you were about, Cinzia told herself. A part of her still could not believe what she was doing. Breaking in to Canta’s Fane, the most sacred place in all of Canticism, the religion she had devoted her life to upholding and teaching. She imagined Nayome felt the same way, but even worse. At least Cinzia had the mask of heretic to hide behind, now.

  Beside Joana
was a bust of Lucia Wayright, the Essera in power when the last king of Khale gave up his crown. While she was by no means ancient, even in comparison with Joana, she was much fuller-faced, her cheeks round, her head resting on an ample neck and shoulders.

  More busts lined the wall, but Nayome stopped them before a set of large double doors equidistant from either end of the otherwise empty corridor. A large gold and silver Trinacrya, the size of Cinzia’s arms if she encircled them, was set into the wood where the doors met. A silver, ornate doorknob stood out on one door, while the other held a pyramidal, golden lock mechanism.

  “That leads up to the Triunity’s offices,” Cinzia said quietly. She had never been up that far. No priestess ever had. Typically, only the members of the Triunity—First Priestess, the Holy Examiner, and the Oracle—roamed above this level. On occasion, a high priestess or a Holy Crucible was allowed up under very special circumstances.

  “Goddess, Cinzia, just go. We’re all right behind you.”

  Cinzia glared at Astrid, but felt encouraged by the girl’s words nonetheless.

  She felt a strong grip on her arm, just above her wrist. She and Nayome locked eyes.

  “Are you sure?” Nayome asked.

  No, Cinzia wanted to say. I am no longer sure of anything.

  “Yes,” she said, with as much force and conviction as she could muster.

  It seemed to be enough for Nayome. The Holy Crucible turned, pulling a keyring from her robe. She fumbled with it for a moment, and then selected a black iron key.

  Cinzia had expected a more ornate key for such a fancy lock. But Nayome turned the key, and the mechanism clicked, and then Nayome swung one of the doors open wide. Along with it came the silver part of the Trinacrya embedded in the door, part of the circle jutting out, while part of the golden triangle remained in place, jutting out from the door that remained. A triangular open space remained on the swinging door.

  “Doesn’t seem the most secure of doors,” Astrid mumbled.

  “It usually doesn’t have to be,” Nayome said.

  In front of them was another flight of stairs, leading upward. Nayome took one more glance back at Cinzia, then started up them. They all followed close behind.