Sygillis of Metatron

by Ren Garcia

  "Oh … let's see, she was rather specific: Demona of Ryel, Marshall Henbane, Princess Marilith, and that damned Captain Hathaline— what about them?"

  "She forgot to mention Jadis Two-Fists, Admiral Scymadar, and Ferd the Younger. And I dispute Demona of Ryel. I don't think she was in love with me."

  Syg's head looked like it was ready to explode. Dav fought hard to keep from laughing—these fits of temper from Syg never lasted long and she would, no doubt, be very apologetic later. Syg, in full apologymode, was a sight to behold.

  "All right, fine! More women whom I'm going to have to hunt down! I'll go ahead and take Demona's name off the list, if that makes you happy."

  Davage thought about mentioning Drusilla and how she reacted to him, and how he almost had reacted to her. But he thought better of it, with Syg's jealous streak showing mighty green it might not be wise to prod her any further.

  "Are you saying that your falling in love with me was some sort of automatic, pre-programmed response? That simply because I was the person you were around the most that you automatically fell in love with me?"

  "No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that you, all tall, handsome, and suave, Lord Blanchefort, tend to create an emotional response in women that … could be rather … dangerous for them."

  "So, you'd kill such a woman, would you?"

  "No, but a humiliating, clothes-ripping public pounding might be in order!"

  "Syg, are you jealous?"

  "Well spotted, Dav!" she replied tartly. "Yes, I'm jealous—happy?"

  "Sygillis, I cannot believe that you would willingly sacrifice the life of Suzaraine of Gulle on the simple notion that you are feeling jealous and for no good reason."

  "I am not saying we sacrifice her life. I am saying that, if she is to be saved, somebody, anybody, other than you is going to do it!"

  Davage headed to the door. "I must to the bridge."

  "Where are you going?" Syg shrieked. "You have not asked my leave for you to depart, and additionally, you have not yet kissed me good-bye!"

  "Madam!" Davage said. "I will take it under advisement!"

  * * * * *

  Davage sat in his office trying to complete some reports. His argument with Syg still bounced around in his head.

  He'd made up his mind. Syg was just going to have to be upset. He was going in, and he was going to try and save Suzaraine of Gulle.

  She needn't worry—he loved her, he will not stray. Also, though it was slightly annoying, he found it flattering that Syg made such a fuss. She loved him, all of her, bad temper, jealous streak, and all.

  Still, a woman's life hung in the balance, and he wasn't going to abandon her.

  Look at Beth—look at how far she'd come in just a short time, talking, eating, gaining a bit of healthy weight, belly-laughing with Ennez. Her progress was everything Dav had hoped it would be and more. She had already expressed interest in becoming a Hospitaler, of all things. She said she thought the Jet Staff Hospitalers use was "cool." And Dav had to admit, a Hospitaler using a Jet Staff was a cool thing to watch.

  Syg had told him that Bethrael of Moane was never considered to be a fierce Black Hat, that her heart was never really in it. Beth herself said that her skills weren't the best—that her temple in Moane was a "shack" in comparison to Syg's, that she was a poor, embarrassing Hammer.

  Dav, though, was convinced that, perhaps a good deal of her soul had survived intact from the Black Abbess' church. While the seed of Syg's soul was just that—an undeveloped vessel—Beth's had sprouted on its own and endured the long night. Perhaps, given that criteria, she was probably the toughest Black Hat of them all.

  Another thing Syg had mentioned greatly troubled him. Bethrael was a relatively docile Hammer, and Suzaraine was an incompetent bearing the Dark Man within her to kill him. What about the other eight? Were they also poor Black Hats? Were they novices? Were they sent to Metatron because the Black Abbess didn't figure on much resistance from Syg's temple, or did the nut of her plan to re-take Syg and turn her evil render them disposable and inconsequential?

  What about the Black Hats he mowed down on Carahil's back? He wondered at the terror, the panic they must have felt.

  He thought of the ones he killed in the Dark man's belly … a mercy killing.

  He silenced the thought; the guilt will consume him if he continued.

  And so, Suzaraine of Gulle, that tall, shattered woman wasting away in the brig, shall be saved.

  There was a knock at the door.

  "Please come in," he said. He assumed it was Syg coming to say she was sorry for being so silly.

  The door opened and Commander Mapes entered, his large triangle hat in hand.

  "Mapes," Davage said, "how goes it? How's my ship?"

  "The ship is fine, Captain. Everything is running as well as can be expected."

  Davage looked at him—tall, sandy hair, flat, craggy nose, jutting, slotted chin, slightly heart-shaped face, gray eyes—a Grenville certain enough.

  Suddenly, Syg sent him a message as she was wont to do. clattered into his brain.

  He composed himself and continued with Mapes. "Fine then, and as always, excellent work. So, what can I do for you?"

  "It was Lady Sygillis. She mended the spar, truth be told. She is a fine, saucy woman. She … put the Dirge to me."

  came Syg's voice again.

  "I see. And did you have the Dirge coming to you?"

  "I did, Captain. I was rude and arrogant. And the spar was mended, despite myself. Lady Sygillis was right to do what she did. I fully acknowledge that now."

  He paused for a moment and looked at his hat.

  "I am to understand, sir, that we have a prisoner below … one who is in need of assistance. I wish to offer my help in that matter."

  Davage dropped his report and stared at Mapes, hard.

  "What are you playing at here?"

  "Nothing, sir, I simply wish to help as best I can."

  Davage sat there and regarded him for a moment.

  Syg telepathied to him.

  "And I suppose the fact that this prisoner, this woman you wish to assist, is a Black Hat has made no factor in your mind, has it?"

  "I freely admit I admire Lady Sygillis, I admire her power. If this woman—"

  Davage allowed his temper to get the better of him. He smashed his fist down on the desk. "This isn't a game, Mapes, a fancy, comely party amusement! This is a woman's life, and it is your life too if you go in there!"

  "I know that."

  Davage began to fume. The old Blanchefort-Grenville dislike began to bubble up in earnest. Sadric and Mapes' father, Marist, shared an ongoing, mutual loathing, each eternally trying to outdo and humiliate the other. They threw grand balls, extravagant parties just so they could cross the other's name off the invitation list—the ultimate slap. So, here was Davage, having accomplished the novel and quaint act of turning a Black Hat. Now, hard on his heels, here was Mapes, a Grenville, wanting to do the same thing—not wanting to be outdone by a Blanchefort.

  "Here on orders from your brother, are you, Mapes? Trying to get in on the latest craze. Look everyone, adopt a wayward Black Hat— teach her to smile, teach her to dance a trick. Watch her fall in love with you. It is easy and fun!"

  "Sir, that's not how it is."

  "Then how is it, tell me? Do you even know her name?"

  Mapes fumbled with his hat. "Her name is Suzaraine of Gulle. Gulle is a small city on the northern end of Zust. Her temple may be found on …"

  "All right, enough … so you did your research. You've firmly scouted down your quarry, I'll grant you that."

  Mapes pleaded with Davage. "Sir, I know how this must seem. We have never been particular friends. I was initially appointed to this post via political stratagems to cloud your com
mand and possibly cost you a reappointment. My brother hates you for stealing his bride—"

  "Marilith?"

  "—and our families have certainly never been on the best of terms, but you are my captain, and in that role I have always cherished you, always acknowledged your quality. I have done that from near the beginning. This latest incident has thrown into bold relief the full depth of your character, the strength of your courage. You are not only a great captain; you are a great man as well. And I saw how Lady Sygillis looks at you, is devoted to you. I saw, and experienced firsthand, her single-minded determination to get you back, how she would not rest and how she would do whatever needed doing to ensure your return, even if it meant putting a fool like me to the Dirge to do it. I—I want something similar for myself—a woman who loves me to the ends of her soul. I want a woman who will look at me like she looks at you."

  "Suzaraine of Gulle is not a toy or a wind-up novelty. Who's to say she won't hate you, try to kill you? She was by far the most potent Black Hat fighter I've ever seen, though that might have been the result of foreign control."

  "I am willing to take that risk. For the hope of such love, I am willing to risk my life. There are two lives at stake here, Captain—both hers and mine. I want to make the effort. I want to save us both."

  Davage looked at Mapes. He could hear the sincerity in his voice, see it in his face.

  "Neither I, nor the Sisters, can guarantee your safety. I will not have a valued member of my crew subject himself to—"

  "I am an Officer of the Fleet and the son of a Great House. You are not the only one who has courage, the only one who can put himself at risk. You are not the only man who can save a life. And like you, I am not helpless…"

  Davage saw a glint of something moving under his Fleet coat—the VUNKULA, no doubt.

  He continued, "For once, Captain, I wish for people to see me, me—not as a commander or the brother of the great Sixtus, Lord of Grenville, but me, Mapes, and I wish for them to say that Mapes is a brave man too."

  Dav stood and saw his engineer in a new light. "This is truly what you want, Mapes?"

  "It is, Captain."

  "Then perhaps I have judged you too harshly. Perhaps, when I look at you, I see only your brother, and I have forgotten that you are your own man. If that's the case, then I am in error, and I apologize. If you wish to do this, and if you are fully prepared for the dangers, the consequences, and the responsibilities that may follow, then I shall not halt you."

  "If there be responsibilities, then I look forward to meeting them."

  Davage held out his hand. "Good luck, sir."

  Mapes took his hand and shook it warmly. "Look at us—a Grenville and a Blanchefort sharing a good moment together."

  Davage smiled. "Our fathers are, no doubt, rolling in their graves. But Mapes, this isn't about our families, this is about two men, two Elders, finally opening their eyes and seeing each other's worth fully for the first time."

  "And maybe this day marks that end of what was and begins afresh on a new page. I would like that very much." Mapes put his hat back on and made to leave the room.

  "Mapes," Davage said, "I will not be happy to lose my fine engineer. I will entreat you to be careful. I will want an exact schedule of when you plan to subject yourself to her. Though I fully acknowledge your skills, I still will want to look in from afar from time to time and ensure that you are relatively safe, and perhaps I could offer some advice on the matter should you feel you need it."

  "Thank you, sir. I will, provide the schedule."

  After Mapes left, Dav got another message from Syg.

  * * * * *

  Syg had been apologizing to Dav for several hours in her quarters. As he drifted in and out of pleasure-induced hazes, he vaguely suspected that she liked losing her temper on occasion so she could really unload on him later.

  Though she had been listening from afar, he related the encounter with Mapes to her in detail.

  "Does Mapes realize what he might be in for? Is he seeking a trophy of some sort?"

  "That's what I thought a first. But despite everything, he is a good man, and I am convinced he is sincere."

  Syg kissed him. "Are you worried about his safety?"

  "Of course I am."

  "Well, Dav, it can't always be you who's dangling over the fire. Mapes will do fine."

  "You didn't find him an overly charming man."

  "No, but then again I had other things on my mind, and his chortling was slowing down your rescue. Still, I hope he doesn't get too eager. This is not going to be quick or easy. This is going to be like resurrecting a dead body. She has no soul left."

  "I was thinking about that. With you, it was like a fencing match. You were certainly venomous and unpleasant …"

  "Thanks, Dav."

  "… but you were there. You were an active participant. Bethrael I won't even count. Freeing her was like a big party. This—this could be beyond help."

  "He is setting himself up for heartbreak."

  "He provided me with a schedule. His first attempt shall be tomorrow right after the breakfast bell. I suppose we shall find out more then."

  * * * * *

  The first time Mapes went into the brig, he immediately called for a Hospitaler; he was certain she was dead. Ennez came, scanned her, confirmed her both alive and awake, and left.

  There she was, slumped on the bench, dressed in a pair of white pajamas. She hadn't moved in days.

  Davage watched with piqued interest from his office—oh but the Sight was convenient.

  He tried talking to her at first and then he sat next to her, confused, wondering if he really wanted to be in there with her after all.

  After a while, he stood and made to leave the brig. Perhaps he'd been foolish; perhaps the captain was correct.

  Before he got to the door, he stopped, thought a moment, and went back to her. Carefully, he lifted her head, moved her hair out of her face, and stared for a moment, looking at her lolled, blank face.

  He took his coat off, forgetting about the VUNKULA hanging at his backside. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and began cleaning her face, wiping away the drool and the crusted material that had built up on her mouth. He then gently picked her up, sat down, and laid her on top of him.

  Holding her close, he slowly rocked back and forth. He held her like that for hours.

  Davage was impressed.

  The next day he tried feeding her. He had a bowl of bland broth and tried to get her to eat.

  Nothing, no response. The broth went into her mouth and sat there unswallowed.

  And so with the third day, and the forth, and the fifth.

  * * * * *

  "Dav," Syg said, "this can't go on much longer. The pain was too much for her. It would have been too much for anybody."

  Davage sat there in his office and paused a moment. "I have had similar thoughts. Mapes, though, has become attached to her. Failure will break his heart, I think."

  "We are inflicting a cruelty on her, Dav. She strides the wastelands, neither alive or dead. We must let her go." She paused. "I've been to see Bethrael."

  "Isn't her progress remarkable?"

  "It is … it is, and I am glad for her."

  "She can wear slippers. How come you can't wear slippers? How come you can't wear a pair of fine Blanchefort shoes?"

  Syg looked at Dav and beamed. "Can't is not the right word, love. Won't is better. Anyway, she … still has Shadow tech. It hasn't fully converted yet."

  "And?"

  "I had her make me this. She didn't want to, but I insisted." Syg held out her hand.

  She held a tiny grayish-black knife.

  "What's this?" Davage asked.

  "It's a Nyke."

  "You cannot be serious."

  "I'm only thinking of her, Dav, that's all. She still feels his pain. The Dark Man's clutch goes on e
ven after he is gone. One little scratch, quick and painless, and she will have peace."

  He looked at the knife and took it from her. The thought of killing Suzaraine, like a pained animal, was offensive to him.

  Still … she was right, this couldn't go on much longer.

  * * * * *

  On the sixth day, Davage pulled Mapes into his office. He said he had been watching his progress, told him he was proud of the effort he had put in, that he had been true to his pledge.