Markus leaned back against the door, folding his hands and crossing his ankles. “Former priest,” he reminded her. “And you’re in my custody now.”
Sil turned her back. “I have done nothing wrong.”
He laughed. “Nothing? You torched that stagecoach. It took those two loaders all this time to find it and put out the fire. You’re lucky it fell into a ditch. If it had hit a building or gone into the woods…well, you don’t look like you could afford to pay for damages.”
“I had an agreement with that man,” Sil said in an angry hush. But Markus was right. She did cast the spell and she wanted to… What? Get revenge? No, she just wanted to stop him. She already admitted to herself that anger got the best of her. Wasn’t that enough? “He was supposed to be my transportation.”
Markus snorted. “‘Was is right.”
Sil turned over her shoulder, feeling guilty for not asking if the man survived. It served him right, even if he— “Is he…?”
Markus lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. “Yes, he’s fine, lucky for you. That would have been murder if he had died, you know.”
“But he is fine,” she said flatly.
Markus laughed again. “My, my, how much you’ve changed from a few hours ago. Where is that nervous young girl who couldn’t stop shaking to talk to me?”
Sil looked away. “She’s become surrounded by loafs.”
Markus walked over and up righted the chair. “Sit down,” he said, his voice emptying of its previous levity. Sil sat, letting a scowl grow on her face while Markus went back to leaning against the door, crossing his ankle again. “Now I will ask questions and you will answer them.” But Sil already knew what he really wanted, more information about her sister. This whole custody issue was just a ruse.
“There’s nothing more I can say about my sister,” she said, keeping her chin high. “If I were you I would let me go before rumors get around that the Empire’s arresting priests.”
Markus titled his brim hat down, obscuring his eye. “You keep on pretending to still be a priest,” he said. “I wonder why that is?” Sil didn’t know what he meant by that, so she just huffed, choosing to obstinate. After a moment, Markus spoke up again. “Question one: why were you with a member of the Coming Shadows?”
“Coming Shadows,” Sil repeated the name, but her mind drew a blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She yanked the chain fastened to her leg, but it pulled back and sunk deeper into the hole, the length of the chain shortening.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he warned. “I don’t want to have to carry you after you lose your leg.”
Sil gasped, staring at the hole in horror and the last link visible above it. She was certainly not going to lose her leg! The imbued blade nestled on the inside of her thigh came to mind. Yes, that would cut the chain, maybe even melt it. She looked up at Markus. It could burn him too, and she’d be free. But the magic would fade, and still more, her hands were shackled behind her. How was she going to pull that off?
“I’ve never heard of the Coming Shadows,” Sil said, trying to sound as calm as possible. She had to lure him closer to her, then ram her forehead into his face. “No one knows what I look like outside the Holy Grounds.”
“That doesn’t stop them,” he said with a wave of his hand. “We’ve seen them in there before.”
“Then the Empire doesn’t know what its spies see. I’ve never meet anyone of the Going Shadows or whatever and neither would such a clandestine named group be allowed anywhere near the Golden Lady.”
Markus paused, seeming to consider what she said. “So then, I suppose it was only coincidence that one of their number was your coachman?”
“That’s impossible,” Sil snapped back, having a difficult time keeping calm. “That coachman was hired by Her Holiness, High Priest Vyn Avien.”
“The Doyenne? No, I don’t believe that.”
“Don’t sully that word. Only her sisters can address her as that.”
Markus raised the brim hat with his finger, so he could look at her with his one eye. He chuckled. “Ohhh, I see now.” The levity returned to his voice as the corner of his seeing eye creasing from a smile.
“See what,” she said, leaning forward a bit while angling her feet to lunge at him. Only a little closer.
“It all makes sense now,” he said, pushing himself off the door. “They hired him to kill you.”
“Hired him to kill me?” The accusation was so absurd Sil forgot was she was doing, but rising anger soon reminded her. How could he suggest such a thing? Her priest sisters —much less the Doyenne— would never have planned to murder her.
“I’m sorry, Sil,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s more common than you think. A prestigious organization. Embarrassed. Wanting to erase a mistake.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she seethed. Come a little closer!
“Well, let me ask you this then,” he said, stepping closer. “Would you send an idealistic, naive, powerful, and impulsive mage cooped up in the Temple all her life to chase down her war-worn older sister without any provisions?”
“I am neither naive, nor was I ‘cooped up.’” Idealistic, powerful, and impulsive, on the other hand, she couldn’t argue against. Not close enough.
Markus snorted. “And all they gave you were useless Zanf’r vouchers?”
“How do you know what I carry?” He must have searched her, the fiend. A little more. “They gave me more than that…but it was burned in the stagecoach. I’ll manage my own way.”
Markus buried his face into his hands, sighing. “No wonder you need help, Sil.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Sil, stop trying to reach me, I’m not going to let you,” he said, crossing his arms with a flat disappointed look on him. “And I’d hate to see you lose that leg.”
“What…What are you talking about,” Sil said, straightening in her chair. How could he have known what she was doing. He must have a blessing!
He leaned back against the wall, lowering the brim of his hat over his face. “I’ve been at this job for a long time. I know what to look for.” He pointed at her right leg. “It’s there, isn’t it? You probably didn’t notice, but I did. You were favoring your left leg, the right being bulkier than you’re used to. You’ve been walking with a strange gait ever since you arrived. Made it look like you hurt your right knee, and you stood with a wider stance I would expect from someone…much heavier than you. That weapon is probably chaffing your left thigh, isn’t it?” He pushed up his hat and watched her as if he expected her to agree.
But she remained silent, squeezing out frustrated tears from her eyes. How was she going to get free now?
He smiled a toothy smile. “My goodness, you really don’t know what you’re doing, do you? You would have happily led that assassin to your sister and he would have killed both of you. Lucky we meet, huh? But the real question is why—”
“I have to complete my mission,” she whispered, staring into his eye, trying to communicate her seriousness. “I can’t stay here. I must find her. There is more at stake here than I can tell you.” Her Goddess must receive a sacrifice.
He frowned. Sil couldn’t guess what he was thinking, but she knew now he wasn’t a dumb loaf. He was an imperial investigator, after all; he knew his business. But, he… he just had to let her go.
Markus sighed and shrugged. He then walked behind her. She heard the unlocking of her cuffs. Sil quickly pulled her arms around, rubbing her soar reddened wrists. Markus returned to the wall, leaning his back against it while lowering his brim hat again. “You can go,” he said, his voice cold. “But, if you go alone, you’ll be dead in a week. That’s not my prediction. That’s just a fact. Whether you believe me or not, your coachman worked for the Coming Shadows and it wasn’t for your convenience that he drove you here. He already murdered someone in town today.”
“He what?” Sil’s heart skipped.
�
�He poisoned a woman, not much older than yourself with a substance he masked with mint.” That peppermint flavor in his mouth! But he must have ingested it too? “They are very, very bad people, Sil, and I’d bet real gold they know who you’re after.” His expression softened. “And on top of that, you’re trying to find a cold-hearted killer yourself. So, sounds to me like you might need a hand or two.” He extended his right hand to her. “I’m safe, Sil, well…safe enough that I don’t want you dead. I’ll protect you. So, why not work together?”
Instead of taking his hand, Sil continued rubbering her wrists, circling initiation spells in her palms. She still thought about attacking him, some icy spell for his icy heart, but his words did make sense. That coachman panicked when he saw Markus behind her, but the Synod hired him, didn’t they? Golden Lady, what should I do? But there was no answer. Sil supposed she didn’t really need one. The first day of her quest she found herself hunted by an assassin, in imperial custody, and with no lead on her sister. Besides, even if he did let go, he’d follow her anyway.
“One condition,” she said.
“Condition? I could throw you in a runic tower and forgot all about you.”
“And you could spend the rest of your life chasing after my sister. I presume you’re having trouble finding her or else I would already be in said tower, wouldn’t I?”
He groaned, kneeling to unlock her leg brace. “What do you want?”
“I want to be the one to speak to my sister first,” she said. “Alone.”
To Sil’s surprised, he nodded. “That it? Sounds good to me.”
“Good,” she said, shaking his hand with lingering doubts rising in her mind. For better or worse, she had a partner, or at least another body to scare off danger. She just had to convince Gene to come back to the Golden Lady and with the two of them, they could easily overpower him.
Markus opened the door, and the sunlight streamed inside. He extended his hand outside. “Ladies first.”
“Now you decide to be respectful,” Sil said, passing him outside.
“Now you decide to cooperate,” he matched her tone before pointing back toward the Mess Hall. “I’m staying over there. Come on.” He started walking but stopped suddenly, looking her over but letting his eyes linger a bit on her hair.
Sil felt her face flush from embarrassment but resisted turning away. “Must you stare? Haven’t you ever seen a veil before?”
“I was just thinking if we should keep that ‘sick’ story you used to cross the border.” Sick story?
“How do you know about that?”
Markus smiled. “I have to apologize, ma’am,” he said in that same tired monotone voice from the checkpoint. “You won’t be getting very far away from insensitive loafs like me.”
“But… that’s impossible. How did you reach town before I did? We were on horses!”
“I didn’t walk,” he said as though that answered the question. “Come on, if you’re pretending to be sick, then I’ve got some makeup for you to put on. Your clothes are fine though, but that veil looks too expensive.” Sil reached for her head. She didn’t want to part with it. “Don’t tell me you’ve got another ‘condition’?”
“No…well, I…"
He sighed. “Sil,” he said with frustration. “If we’re going to find Gene before the Coming Shadows find you—”
“I still don’t believe you about that.”
“Fine. I don’t want people coming after me before we find Gene. Better?”
“Better. When do we leave?” And to where? Sil hadn’t gotten any leads or rumors yet.
“Tonight,” Markus replied, scratching at his clean shaved chin as if he expected a beard to be there. “I want to be in Sat’r by tomorrow morning.” Sat’r was a big industrial city to the west —big to a little girl who grew up in a small mining town. They had an enormous refinery, smithies, and industry from what she could remember. As a girl, she’d go on delivery trips with her father. Such adventure, she saw them refine ore and smelt it into what they called ‘product’ before shipping it further west, north and south, but that was before the Empire. Now, Sat’r belonged to Prince Landrie.
“You believe she’s there?”
Markus shook his head. “No, but one of my informants is. Not unless you have something?” Sil didn’t, and the fact that Markus had already searched here meant there was probably nothing here for her to find either. Sat’r, yes. Maybe something’s there. Gene made the same trip with their father before she went up to the Temple. But before Sil could leave Sato, there was still one place she’d like to go… Alone.
After reaching Markus’s apartment —which was no bigger than her ‘prison cell’— Markus had her put on some powder that made her look more ghostly than sick, but he said it would make her story seem more believable. She thought it made her look like she had the Chills in her, but she’d suffer the embarrassment if it helped. He had given her a sturdier belt for the knife’s sheath to be wrapped around her waist and under her dress, hanging by her hip. She ripped through a pocket to give her easy access to it. Thankfully, Markus didn’t ask her why she had the knife in the first place. Probably assumed it was for her protection. She’d let him go on assuming. He had also given her a dark brown woolen veil, thicker than her previous one, which pleasantly hid her bald head even better. The other veil she stuck in her breast pocket. She didn’t have many luxuries back at the Temple; she wasn’t supposed to, a life identified with the poor and all that. But the silky fabric was so smooth on her head and neck, she’d treasure it until she returned. Was she coveting? No, she told herself. Just admiring the craftsmanship.
After the preparations, Markus offered his single cot for her to rest till evening came, warning her not to smudge her makeup. By the look on his face, she must have surprised him for taking the cot without argument. He was used to the journey life, wasn’t he? He could probably sleep standing up, so what did it matter to him if he slept on the floor. It would matter to her, so she’d take all the comfort she could get.
His plan was to rest till nightfall before slipping out of Sato. No one needed to know they were leaving and Sil agreed. But she couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t sleep. There was still one more place she wanted to visit before leaving, so she laid there, the afternoon sun reddening while the evening chill entered the porous walls. She thought of the scandal she’d cause if anyone found out she cooperated with the Empire, but she had no choice. Was that what happened to Gene? Did she suddenly find herself in bad company and allowed them to influence her? “No,” Sil whispered, resting her heavy eyelids. It was just like her to always do what she wanted, and what she wanted was always conveniently the right thing to do. She’d have a thousand silk veils, luxuries and wanton pleasures if she deemed herself to need them for some personal project. Sil snickered. Maybe that was too far, but she had no excuse now. Back then, Gene railed on her for burying their parents before she had a chance to come, writing the most hurtful things in that letter. And other times too, she would cite scripture, ancient traditions, and family lore laws to convince Sil that she was in the wrong. But not now. Now, Sil was as educated as her selfish sister: there was no such thing as personal morals! Right was right—
Sil found herself high above the town in the cool night air, wind rushing over her outstretched arms and refreshing her face. Down below, tiny orange lights dotted the town, each one going out as the residents went to sleep. But she wouldn’t. How could she? Up here, she felt so free, so at home, gliding among the clouds and breathing in the virgin air untouched by anyone. She whipped something behind her and whooshed her hands down and back, suddenly gaining great speed south. The town passed, then the small wood eventually thickened to the old Kar’d forest and south still, she went. A light house blurred passed, and then the ocean with the coastline to her right. She followed it, exhilarated by her new found freedom. She could go anywhere, as high as to chill her bones or swoon down and scare a herd of wild horses into stampede. But the ocean was
boring, water and waves for as far as she could see, so she decided to turn inland at an inlet and follow the river west.
In the distance, she saw the sun rising, but no, that couldn’t be right. The sun rose in the east and the light was too dim to be the sun, yet she sensed heat from it. Drawn to it, the orange light brightened to a brilliant yellow so blinding she couldn’t look directly at it. Night turned to day as she neared an illuminated city of metal, stone, and fire, lit by that great lamp on top of a ziggurat. No, the entire city was a one large complex, a gigantic ziggurat, with levels upon levels all ascending up to that enormous lamplight.
She tried swooning closer, but the air thickened and her arms had trouble cutting through as if the air gelled into honey. She then noticed lines, like threads originating from the light source and descending down over the city. In between the the threads, there were shinning reflections, like glinting of light, suggesting some kind of glass that covered the entire ziggurat city.
With the air becoming intolerable hot, she swung back, but not before peering as deeply as she could at the light source for the briefest of moments. She swore she saw figures on the summit, humans engaged in some struggle and the light exploding from one of them.
With curiosity mounting, she decided to glide lower over the city, finding more humans, frozen with their arms raised in battle; hundreds of them in the streets fought against blurred and shadowed enemies. Some were cut to pieces, entrails splatted against wells; heads decapitated, and arms torn off. Some appeared to have enormous bite marks that cut them in half, while others seemed be raging at the sky with a portion of them phasing into shadow. For the shadowed enemies, Sil saw some of them, too, laid in pieces, and a not too few were strewn across the sky. Some of the blurred shadows were smeared on the the streets, walls, weapons piercing through them.
Horrified and saddened, she decided to leave this place when she noticed banners high up on poles, not flapping in the wind but still as if held in place. And on the banner was symbol. She recognized it, but couldn’t focus completely on it. It had lines, curves and shades that made it seem as if the banner was too small for it. How does that make sense? She thought. So she flew in closer. Yes, she did recognize the symbol. She saw it before; it was on a sheath for a knife she had at her hip. Hip? She had a hip? She had legs, arms, and a torso too. But then, how could she be flying! She looked down, seeing the sprawled city of stone, metal, and fire below as panic struck her. Her hearts raced, one after the other, as she frantically flapped her arms. But she fell anyway. Of course she fell. Humans couldn’t fly! The ground rushed up to meet her. She shut her eyes and screamed, but instead of her own voice, she let out a deafening and beastly roar that vibrated up her throat—
Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms Page 28