“You knew she was hired,” Sil accused.
Markus shook his head. “But honestly, Sil. She couldn’t have done what she did alone.”
“You don’t know she committed those crimes,” she whispered. “It could have been those she worked for. Maybe she’s being held hostage. Made to work against her will—”
Markus grabbed her arm, stealing her attention from his wound. “I know you don’t believe that.” No, she didn’t. She knew Gene would go to any lengths for her pet projects, but —Sil stood and turned away. How was Gene going to sacrifice herself if she committed those crimes? She couldn’t; the Golden Lady would reject her. All Sil’s efforts would be for nothing. She would remain defrocked and her parent’s dreams of redeeming their past would be destroyed—
“All that anger in you, and you’re still defending her,” he chuckled. “Might feel better of you face the truth.” Truth? The truth was…You know Gene is capable of it.
“I…she’s still a priest, Mister Montgomery. I don’t believe someone who was so close to the Almighty could betray everything she believed in for…what? Why? Damn it,” she cursed under her breath.
“You ‘don’t’ believe, or ‘can’t’ believe? Big difference between the two.”
“I have to believe she’s innocent.”
Gylur finally appeared from the kitchen and Sil shouted for bandages, salve and a sling for Markus’s arm.
Sil returned to his wound asking him, “try flexing your hand.” But he couldn’t close his fist completely and all the while contorting his face in pain. “We have to watch those burns for infection. And I’m sorry, I doubt this wound will fully heal. If it hit nerve or muscle…” And it most certainly did.
“Rest,” Markus said, though he sounded worried. “Just needs some rest.”
Gylur appeared again, and Sil went quick to work, applying salve and wrapping the wound.
“Aren’t you a mage,” Gylur asked, walking behind her to examine the two dead men.
She let out frustrated groan.
“She’s not that kind of mage,” Markus answered for her and she thanked him with a nod.
“What kind is that?”
“The kind that’s only useful after she’s dead apparently,” he said with a suspicious tone. Sil ignored him, tightening the bandages and tying them in place. Next, she worked the sling around his shoulder. “Kinda strange they didn’t teach you at least some basic healing magic,” he pried further. “It’s what mages are known for, and a whole lot more useful than fire and wind.” But Sil kept herself quiet, tying the sling about his shoulder.
“There,” she said with a sigh. “All done.” She helped him to his feet. “Now you have only one arm instead of the three you wanted.” She smiled.
“Sil, just curious,” he asked, gingerly pulling his coat back over his shoulder. “As a priest, what’s your job after the yearly sacrifice? Not sit in a closet the rest of the year, I’d guess.”
“No, I would—” she stopped herself. “A defender of the Temple.”
He didn’t seem to believe her, and worse, if he really did sneak inside the Temple, he might know martial magic and tactics were rarely taught to priests. Even the Martial Schools only produced a handful of competent martial mages a year, usually hired quick-away to protect some noble or landowner. The vast majority of mage’s experience with the martial magics was to learn how to protect themselves from a thoughtless casting.
The Temple had their guards, of course. They weren’t as proficient as Sil’s skills, but they knew medicinal magic too. Sil didn’t; she didn’t need it. She wasn’t supposed to need it. She was supposed to be by the Golden Lady’s side. She was supposed to be already dead.
Sil’s stomach lurched, so she turned away from him to join Gylur with the other two on the floor. Two clean shots through the forehead, brain matter she hadn’t noticed splattered against the wall from only one of them.
“Pretty good shots,” Markus said. “Was aiming for their hands.” Though he probably meant it as a joke, Sil didn’t laugh. Death wasn’t something to make light of. Two people lived here, but now, sent to the Almighty. Markus moaned, examining one his hand-cannons. “They’re getting pretty weak. I’ve gotta recharge them soon.”
Sil ignored his concern —and his ignorance of magic— and prayed a simple prayer for the dead but when it came time to plea for their souls, she stopped. Frowning, she said, “I’ve never seen people die before, not…so brutally. But, I…I don’t feel anything. I should. But, I don’t.” It just seemed like a brute fact to her, like the sun rising in the morning. Two dead with holes in their skulls.
“Don’t over think it,” Markus said, before leaning into her ear and whispering, “And you’re welcome.”
She pushed him away. “I don’t need you shoring up my courage.”
Markus gave her an incredulous grin and shrugged his uninjured shoulder Kill him too —Sil’s hand twitched— before joining Gylur at the outside door, looking out. “She still out there?” Markus asked.
“No, some people took her,” he answered, closing the door and blocking Markus. “You know what you’ve done? They’ll be back—”
“Blame it on me,” Sil said. “It doesn’t matter. My sister will always blame it on me.” And her sister knew now. Sil won’t back down. Not this time. This time she’d get Gene to take responsibility.
Gylur opened the door, a mean scowl on his face. “Get out, then.”
Markus turned to her. “Come on, Sil. We’re not—
“No,” Sil said with her stomach growling. She rose chin up and rolled her shoulders back. She was already promised a night outside. She wouldn’t go hungry too because of Gene’s ‘people.’ She was finished suffering for her sister’s irresponsibilities. No more. Not after exhausting herself with magic and her food cooling on the table. And Markus was injured too. He’d need time to rest. “I will be staying her, Mister Gylur, and enjoy my food. What happened was not our fault, and, moreover, we have rid you of your hooligan problem. The least you can you do is show us some gratitude. Markus, have you paid—”
“Now listen here, girl,” Gylur growled.
“Celeste Casmarus is my name, I prefer—”
“This is for your good. They’ll be back with more, and I’ve got a private party to entertain tonight. I do not want more trouble breaking my place up.”
“Noted,” Sil said. “Markus, pay him.” She then walked to her chair, and sat before her meal. You are wasting time. Choosing the ale instead of the wine, she drank it. Cold, effervescent and refreshing with a hint of maple. “This is delicious.”
“Sorry, Guy,” Markus said. “I guess we’re not going yet.” He joined her, though with his one arm, it took considerably longer for him to eat. Gylur stood over them, arms crossed, and breathing like a bull steaming up for a charge. “Don’t worry. We’ll leave as soon as we finish,” he said, stressing the point toward Sil. “Don’t want to face an entourage of those people.”
“Yes, you were right,” Sil said, ignoring his concern. “I should have ale more often. Less intoxicating too.”
“See, I told you. You’re missing out keeping all those priestly habits.”
She wrinkled her nose at him before taking another bite. “They’re not ‘habits.’ They’re rituals. Natural signs of supernatural truths.”
“Sounds like another textbook definition,” he mocked, twirling his fork in the air. “I can hear the paper crackling now. What page, I wonder?”
“Thirty-eight. You know, you really should read more often. You might have found my sister by now if you had.”
“In a library? Maybe if she stayed in a library, she wouldn’t have committed those crimes.”
“Will you two just eat and leave already,” Gylur barked. Sil could almost imagine steam coming out of his nose. But she wouldn’t be cowed, good practice for her confrontation with Gene.
“There are two bodies over there,” Markus reminded him, point his fork over his should
er. “Shouldn’t you clean them up?”
Gylur walked back in to the kitchen, muttering curses.
Sil leaned across the table. “Will he be alright with…you know,” she nodded behind him.
Markus shrugged. “He’ll be fine. That woman survived so they’ll know to come after us.” He then sighed. “Which means, we better hurry. We lost any chance of surprising Gene now, so we have to be careful.” He displayed his wounded arm. “I’ll have to lean more on you too, Miss Valkyrie.”
Sil frowned, returning to her food. Dinner passed quietly as the thought of Gene preparing for her growing on her mind. Gene was always so dismissive with a selective memory. She’d often rewrite the past to suit herself and blame Sil —like when the Empire took over Sato. She’d have to be ready for anything. Sil was woman now; Gene had to respect that and listen to her. And maybe with Markus’s help, stay bold enough to convince her to come home. You must kill her.
“Markus,” she whispered, debating her next words. “When we meet my sister. Send me some of that courage,” she said in a rushed hush. “Please.” She then stuffed her mouth with a large bit of potato. Markus didn’t react to what she said, just continued eating as best he could with his one hand. Maybe he didn’t hear her, and that idea brought relief to her. Asking for him to manipulate her emotions, even after she scolded him on it, wouldn’t be what she wanted. No, she had to face her older sister as she was. Sil wasn’t the naive little novitiate anymore. She had a long time to see the faults and damage her sister’s ‘following her conscience’ had done.
“Yea, sure,” he answered, not looking up from his plate. “So long as you stop using words like ‘moreover’ and ‘hooligans.’ It’s embarrassing.” Sil felt deflated; she should have expected he’d joke. But her quest was more important than her insecurities or sibling resentment. She had to get Gene back to the Temple, or sacrifice her here and now in Sat’r. The Golden Lady needed her; the world needed her. And if it came to fighting…? Sil pushed the plate away, but took in a large gulp of ale and waited for Markus to finish. She’d have to subdue her.
As time went on, Breana never appeared; neither did Eah, Gylur’s wife, who Sil didn’t even meet. But rested and hunger sated, the two left the parlor to find a cloudy overcast and threatening rains. Not very good if they were going to sleep outside, but at least the air would be fresher after a good rain.
***
Markus, who didn’t seem to be in a hurry as they strolled back toward the Royal Rares and Ancient Articles shop, seemed irritatingly upbeat, even with his arm in a sling.
“There must be other places we can spend the night,” Sil said, noting many couples out. Men and women well-dressed with their arms locked together with colorful parasols held in their other hands. All with smiles and lost in whispering conversations, wearing beautiful, clean and wrinkle-free clothing and those parasols, so colorful with their various themes and lettered embroidery. Some had those strange symbols embroidered on them, those straight and curves lines with shading. More cultists imagery, she doubted anyone else would recognize, but then again, she doubted those symbols were the genuine thing. For all Sil knew, the art had become fashionable now, and they were appealing to her eye. So much effort and expense, it would be a waste if they were just going to get wet with grimy rainwater, or maybe these people were so well-off, they didn’t care.
She pulled her brown, dirty and creased mantle tighter around her shoulders, realizing it stood no chance against rain. She’d be soaked through. For a moment, she imagined being one of them, maybe a business owner, land owner, or even a noble, out for a night of…what? She had never ‘caroused’ with the other priests. Even during festive times, she had to separate herself for her studies, disciplines, and mortifications. Her path was meant to be a hard one because it was an exceptional path for exceptional candidates. That should have boasted her spirits, but she found herself sadden instead.
“Finding a place to say isn’t a good idea,” Markus finally answered. “I…we stand out. And that woman got away too. They’d be stupid not to come look for us.”
“Gene might just seek me out herself then,” she mused. Maybe they could set a trap.
Markus glanced at her, tipping his hat down. “Not a good idea, either,” he said, probably guessing her plan. “She’ll come with full force. We’re only two.” He lifted his injured arm. “One and a half.”
Sil huffed. “Well, what is a good idea?”
“Our best bet is to try that shop quick, hope to find out her plans, and then get out of the city and track her.”
“Get out of the city? But, she’s here, she’s—”
“Expecting us,” he said, lowering his voice with a finger over his lips. “You’re right about one thing. She’ll come after us now. We lost our surprise. The best we can do is shadow her for a while.”
“You’re very serious now,” she said with approval.
He smirked. “Well, to be honest, I didn’t expect Gene’s gang to be so out in the open. And in a public parlor? Never done that before. She’s usually much more careful.”
“And that worries you?”
“No, actually. Makes me excited. Something important to her is here and she’s getting reckless. I can use that. Your sister may have abandoned the priesthood” —Sil snickered— “but she didn’t abandon her magic abilities. I need leverage. Leverage she was willing to kill that shop owner for.”
But what could it be, Sil had no idea. All she had were speculations based on Gene’s personality. Her love of history, particularly, their family history, and the Chills. But so was Sil interested in those subjects, and the libraries in the Temple were far better than another she could have found out here. No, more likely, she just didn’t want to selfishly give up her studies and had gotten herself involved with these hooligans.
Markus pushed his wounded arm closer to her. “Take it,” he said. “That street’s up ahead on the left. If anyone’s watching, I don’t want them knowing I’m down an arm.”
She hesitated, but took his arm, locking with hers as pain stuck his face. Except for the age, the two looked very much like the other couples walking in their private conversations along the stone sidewalks. It stung her now, a youth wasted. No. For a greater cause, she told herself, but she couldn’t help but feel sadness come over her. She glanced up at Markus to see if he was pushing on her emotions, but if he did, he gave no sign of it.
“Cross here,” he said as they made their way across the muddy street.
“I need something from you,” he said, stopping at the corner where they were meant to turn. “You know what the woman said to you about your sister. Your last warning.”
“I know how to defend myself—”
“That’s not what I mean: If your forced to…” he let his sentence linger suggestively.
“What? Kill my sister? Preposterous! You know who I am,” But was it preposterous? That knife against her thigh seemed to throb into her mind. She will listen.
Markus chuckled. “No, Sil. We both want her alive. She knows magic like you but has far more experience. I need to know if I can depend on you.”
Sil let go of his arm, turning away from him. “It won’t come to that. She must listen to me.”
“I can tell you that isn’t going to happen.” He extended his arm again. “Come on.”
She took it and they rounded the corner. Oil lamps hung from building doors illuminating islands of orange light in a darkening road. A couple were dancing under one such lamp —rather poorly and probably intoxicated. But down the road the Royal Rares and Ancient Articles stood shadowed in the night with no one around.
“Someone’s gotta be there,” he whispered as they passed the couple, singing in interrupted bouts of giggling and laughter. “Be ready.”
Sil readied her spells with her heart racing. She didn’t feel confident at all, not like before. Her ankles weakened. But this was better, wasn’t it? Now they were outside?
“I don’t see an
yone,” Markus whispered. “If we get to the alley between the store and building before it, we’ll duck inside.”
And as they neared, the laughter and singing behind them faded, but no one appeared near the building, least of all that man with the gray hat. As soon as that alley came upon them, Markus shoved her in.
“Don’t push me, you loaf,” she hissed, scratching her shoulders and back against the brick wall.
“Sorry, but this isn’t right,” he said, hugging the edge of the alley and peering out. “There should have been someone here.”
“No, no one’s here,” she whispered, checking herself for scratches and tears in her clothing. “Let’s get inside already.”
Markus nodded for her to go deeper into the alley, and she went as light footed as possible. The other end looked empty too, an narrow alley stretching with a row of buildings on one side and a high brick wall on the other. Garbage bags, or what Sil assumed was refuse from the strong sulfur and rotten food odor, were stacked so high against the brick wall they threatened to topple over. To be crushed under such a disgusting mountain wasn’t a pleasant idea at all, but why was it here at all? Where were the hired hands to remove—
Some crumpling crackled from on top of one the bags as a small shadow jumped in quick successions to lower bags until it came to the ground. Sil jumped, her palms out toward it. A cat, she realized. Only a cat. She took in a deep breath. The cat hissed at her before scurrying away.
“Well, that’s good,” he whispered as he went for the back door. “If anyone was here, that cat wouldn’t be, right?”
“So you say,” she replied, searching the shadows for more hidden monstrosities to scare her. She already had to stop herself twice from blazing the entire back alley with enough light to outshine the sun, but she would rather settle for unknown terrors instead of alerting new ones to where they were.
Markus jiggled the door knob, cursing. Locked, probably
“You wouldn’t know how to pick a lock, would you,” he asked.
“Of course not. Shouldn’t you? You’re the investigator.”
Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms Page 63