Emissary

by Melissa McShane

  “Zerafine,” Gerrard said, his voice guarded. She opened her eyes to find Baz sitting next to her. Gerrard stood about a foot away, Nacalia peering out from behind him. “What’s your plan?”

  “Let me think.” She rolled up her sleeve and reached out, slowly, inching her outstretched fingers closer until they brushed the edge of the apparition. As before, Baz showed no sign that he—it—was aware of her. She reached further and sank her hand to the first knuckle into the image. Still nothing. She felt nothing, either—it might have been a little warmer than its surroundings, but that could have been her imagination. She closed her eyes, drew a cleansing breath, and attempted to reach the same state she’d been in when she’d witnessed Sukman’s appearance at the banishment. There, again, was the knot of threads she’d seen before.

  “I’m going to touch it,” she said, not sure if she were speaking on the spiritual plane or in her own voice, then brushed her fingers over the surface of the knot and felt a thrill go up her arm. It felt alive in the sense one might say the night was alive with movement; it hummed with energy. It showed no reaction to her touch. She traced the threads lightly with her fingertips, feeling her way along where they emerged from the knot. She could still feel them under her fingers for a short distance after they became invisible. It was like stroking a horse’s mane, although it was the finest, silkiest mane imaginable. But eventually they faded into nothing. She still had no idea what the knot attached to.

  Now, what symbol would reach it? Nothing of the gods, certainly; if that wasn’t blasphemous, it was certainly dangerous, if only because too powerful a symbol might cause it to react violently, or destroy it. Or her. She thought for a moment, then settled on the circled cross, a circle divided into four parts, unity from many. Among other things, it meant finding common ground. She drew the symbol in golden fire on her wrist, pushed her first two fingers into the knot, and let the symbol roll down her hand into the creature.

  She screamed. It was as if her entire hand had caught fire. The last thing she saw before dropping out of her meditative state was the knot coming apart explosively, loose threads flying in every direction. She snatched her hand close to her chest, drawing in great sobbing breaths. Through dry, burning eyes, she saw the apparition of Baz shred into a million pieces that vanished with the wind.

  “What happened?” Gerrard demanded. “Let me see.” He crouched beside her and peeled her arm away from her chest.

  “It feels burned,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “It looks fine,” Gerrard said. He forced her fingers open and hissed. Burned like a brand into her palm was the circled cross.

  “I guess I got its attention,” Zerafine said weakly. The pain in her arm had already subsided, and despite the raw lines of the burn, her hand felt fine. “It didn’t like the symbol.”

  “Didn’t like that symbol, or didn’t like any symbol?”

  “I don’t know, and I have no inclination to find out. That hurt.” Zerafine stretched and rotated her arm at the elbow. “I think I just performed my very first banishment. Wait a minute.” She breathed deeply and once again opened her heart’s eye. Unlike Genedirou’s banishment, no trace of the knot remained, no loose waving threads, not even barely visible ones. It seemed to have completely vanished.

  “It’s gone,” she said. She stood up and dusted off the seat of her robe. “No residual spirit.”

  “I can see why Genedirou wouldn’t have gone that route. Painful, huh?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t want to go through that again, even as transitory as the pain is.” She massaged her arm, then let it fall to her side. “I think—” she began, then stopped.

  “You think what?”

  She pursed her lips. “Everything that lives has a spirit,” she said. “People, trees, animals, everything.”

  “Yes, Zerafine, I took the same classes you did back in Atenar.”

  “Shut up and listen. I’m trying to work out how these apparitions could exist in the first place.” She rubbed her chin meditatively. “The knot of threads at the heart of each apparition is attached to something. It’s not an independent spirit the way you and I are. It’s part of something bigger. But if this apparition and the one Genedirou banished come from the same source, that’s pretty damn big.”

  Gerrard shook his head. “And it would have to be invisible, too.”

  “Maybe not. You know how people talk about Portena like it’s a living thing? Maybe it is. Maybe all these people living here for all these centuries have given it a life of its own. Not a life exactly, but an independent spirit.”

  “Is that even possible?” Gerrard scratched his beard. “It’s kind of a stretch.”

  “Well, I’m not attached to the idea. It’s just a theory. But it makes more sense than that there’s a two-mile-long invisible creature sitting on top of the city.”

  “Or under it.”

  “They have sewers. It would have to be pretty far down.”

  Gerrard stretched. “Shall we try to tackle Genedirou with our new information? Assuming he’s willing to speak to us?”

  “Oh, I thought of a plan for that.” Zerafine grinned.

  ***

  “This is either a very clever plan or a very stupid one,” Gerrard said.

  “It all depends on whether Genedirou is actually in there.” Zerafine adjusted her hood. They were concealed along one side of the temple, out of sight of the door. Just a few more seconds....

  Nacalia skipped down the temple stairs. As instructed, she ignored them and ran to the fountain to get a drink. About a minute later, Genedirou left the temple and descended the stairs. When he’d gotten a few feet from the temple, Zerafine and Gerrard emerged and flanked him on both sides.

  “Tokthelos Genedirou. You’re a hard man to reach,” Zerafine said.

  He gave her a sour, disdainful look. “So, you’ll ‘be at the temple in five minutes,’ will you? I should have guessed you would stoop to trickery.”

  “You’ve engaged in a little deception yourself, though, haven’t you?” Zerafine said. He continued to glare. “Genedirou, we can have this conversation on the street or we can have it in your office. I’ll let you choose.” After another glare that, had it been steel, would have killed her, Genedirou turned and led the way back into the temple.

  Once in his office, Genedirou sat behind his desk and moved some papers around in what seemed to Zerafine a completely unnecessary maneuver. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept well. “Well, thelis?” he said, not meeting her eye. “My time is short. Say your piece and move on.”

  “I’d like you to explain to me what happens during a banishment,” Zerafine said.

  He smiled a smug smile that made Zerafine’s temper rise. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss such sacred matters with someone not of my faith,” he said.

  “Then tell me what happens to the apparitions when they’re banished. Surely that can’t be considered a sacred matter?”

  Genedirou considered that. “Not at all. Sukman releases them from their hold on our sane reality, and gathers them into His bosom.” He gave her a pious look that she was positive was faked.

  Zerafine sighed. “Genedirou, if you were just going to feed me a line, why have you been avoiding me? You’ve wasted both our time.”

  Genedirou stood, his face flushed. “Are you accusing me of lying?”

  “Not yet. You might just be obtuse.”

  “How dare you come into my temple, into my sanctuary, and make such accusations! Get out at once!” He threw up his arm and pointed dramatically at the door, his pointing finger missing Zerafine’s forehead by a hair’s breadth.

  Zerafine didn’t flinch. “I saw what happened, Genedirou—really saw it. I know Sukman didn’t take that apparition away. I know the elements of it are still there and that they’ve already started reassembling. Don’t you realize your so-called banishments are only temporary? What’s going to happen if one of them comes back?”

  “You understand nothi
ng,” Genedirou seethed.

  “Is that because you refuse to tell me anything?”

  “My banishments are a gift. What no one realizes is that madness always lurks just beneath the surface. If people understood that, they would not be able to live with that truth. Those things, those apparitions, they exist to allow Sukman to show His power and His mercy to this city. Sukman will not allow His gift to be undone.”

  “Are you certain of that? Sukman is mad, after all. What if He changes His mind?”

  “Blasphemer!” Genedirou was nearly purple now. “I do Sukman’s will for the sake of the city!”

  “And it’s just a happy coincidence that Sukman’s will also enriches your coffers? I don’t think you’re as impartial as you want me to believe.”

  “Believe what you will. I am still the only one doing anything about this blight on the city. And I refuse to stop serving this people just because some upstart unranked thelis who—”

  “Shut up,” Zerafine said, slamming her palms down on Genedirou’s desk. “I don’t care about how you’re building your prestige and I don’t care that you’re lining your temple coffers. What I do care about is that you are in my way. It’s my job to figure out what these apparitions are and put a stop to them, not put on some exotic show to impress the masses. I’ll give you credit for taking action, but your solution is temporary and I think you know that. Go on performing your banishments, but I’m going to find a permanent solution, and when I do, I will shut you down. So enjoy your fame while you can.” She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, out of the temple, and out of the plaza.

  “Slow down, holy avenger,” Gerrard said. “I thought he was going to pop a vein.”

  “Slow down,” Nacalia said, running beside her. “I can’t keep up and you’re going to get lost.”

  “I’m too angry to slow down,” Zerafine said, but cut her pace to a slow lope instead of a brisk trot.

  “I hope you’re not going to treat everyone you encounter that way,” Gerrard said. “I think you may be drunk on power.”

  “Are you being serious, or joking around?” Zerafine asked.

  “A little of both. You were pretty hard on Genedirou.”

  “I know.” Zerafine sighed. “I lost my temper. It won’t happen again.”

  “It will probably happen again.”

  “I know. But I’ll do my best to keep it from being so...violent. Did I just make a huge mistake?”

  Gerrard took her arm, forcing her to stop. “You may have made a personal enemy, but you weren’t wrong in what you said. Genedirou’s so happy with his newfound importance that he doesn’t really care about the truth. It wouldn’t matter so much except that he’s positioned himself as the authority on apparitions. If you learn something that contradicts him, getting people to believe you will be that much harder. So you’re right, he’s in your way, and he has to understand you aren’t afraid to step over him. Or push him aside.”

  “Even so, he just seems so fragile, once you get past the bluster.”

  “Let it go. It’s done, and you can’t take it back. So either forget about it or learn from it.”

  “That’s very wise.” She stopped. “I forgot where we were going.”

  “Home,” Gerrard said. “No, wait.” He took Zerafine’s right hand and looked at the palm. “We should get that removed. It’s unsettling. To the temple of Kalindi, which thanks to you means backtracking a mile.”

  Zerafine made a face at him. “I admit I’ll feel happier when it’s gone,” she said.

  It took fifteen minutes to return to Kalindi’s temple and five minutes for a divine healer to remove the brand. She looked uninterested in how a thelis of Atenas had come by such a thing. Zerafine stood outside the temple when it was over, gazing out over the city. The sun had burned away the overcast and the hills cast their long shadows over the streets and houses, gray streaks over white walls and red and black roofs. The temple dome behind her gleamed golden in the afternoon light. Zerafine breathed in the clear air and felt the day’s trials fall away from her shoulders.

  “I had someone check out my head, so we can leave whenever you’re ready,” Gerrard said, coming up behind her.

  “That was smart.” She adjusted her cowl, but chose to leave her hood down. “This place really is beautiful,” she said.

  “It’s the oldest city in the known world,” Gerrard said. “It’s seen over nine hundred years of war, plague, expansion, life and death. And it’s still here.”

  “Part of me thinks it would be nice to settle here. You know, if Berenica weren’t tokthelis. But I’d hate to give up traveling.”

  Gerrard shrugged. “Everyone has to settle down sometime, and this would be as good a place as any. Better, probably. We could buy adjoining houses and send our children to the same schools.”

  Zerafine shivered. The idea of settling down, of children, gave her a strange discomfort that she found she didn’t want to share with Gerrard. Instead she said, “Let’s go home.”

  Nacalia was uncharacteristically silent on the walk home. When they were finally indoors, Gerrard said, “Nacalia, is something bothering you?”

  Nacalia looked at the floor. “Somebody tried to make me tell them what you were doing.”

  “When was this?” asked Zerafine, startled.

  “When you were in the temple and I was at the fountain. He came up to me—”

  “Who did?”

  “Some man.” Nacalia shrugged. “He said, did I want to earn some money, and I said I was already hired, and he said, extra money, so I said what for.” Nacalia gave them a defiant glare. “I wa’nt going to take it, I just wanted to know should I run away from him. Some men, they want more off runners than just running.”

  “I understand,” Zerafine said. The idea made her sick to her stomach.

  “He said all I had to do was write out where you go and who you talk to and leave it in a place he’d show me. I said I couldn’t do that, and he must’ve figured I couldn’t write, which I can, so he said he would meet me every day and I could tell him and he’d give me a parsis every time.”

  “What happened when you told him no?” Gerrard asked, and Nacalia grinned. She seemed relieved that they hadn’t even considered she might say yes.

  “He offered me more money. He was stupid. Should’ve known that would ring all kinds of bells with a runner. Nobody pays more than they have to.” Nacalia shook her head. “Then he told me if I di’nt, he’d find me and beat me up, but I just laughed at him and said he ha’nt got nobody could get at me with you around.” She included them both in her brilliant smile. “Then I kicked him and ran away, but he was gone next I checked the fountain. So I waited, but then thelis was so angry when you came out, I forgot until now.”

  Zerafine and Gerrard exchanged looks. “So who do you think would be interested in our movements?” Zerafine said.

  “Well, it definitely wasn’t Genedirou,” said Gerrard. “He’s not that subtle. And if he were going to hire a man to beat someone up, that someone would be you.” He sat down on one of the couches and began pulling off his boots.

  “Dakariou? He’s subtle enough, but I keep in contact with him. He’d have to be truly paranoid to want us followed, too.”

  “I don’t know. He’s a political. That might be reason enough.” He nudged Nacalia, who was sitting on the floor following their conversation with interest, with his bare toe, and said, “You need to take yourself off to bed, whelp.”

  “But I’m interested,” she complained.

  “When we figure it all out, we’ll tell you the whole story,” he said. “Scoot.” Nacalia made a face at him, then slouched off toward her room.

  “Speaking of politicals,” Zerafine continued, “could it be someone on the Council? We already know Alita doesn’t want us here. But the same thing applies—we’re already telling them what we find out.” She sat across from Gerrard and put her chin in her hands. “So either somebody is incredibly paranoid, or somebody is
afraid we might turn up a secret, and since the only thing I’ve done since I got here is investigate the apparitions, it’s probably a secret related to them.”

  Someone knocked on the door. Aesoron sailed past and opened it before either of them could even stand. He spoke briefly to the visitor, then closed the door and returned to them, bearing a folded sheet of paper. “For you, thelis.”

  The paper was heavy cream-colored rag paper sealed with black wax. Zerafine broke the seal and opened it. “A party? Tonight?”

  “You’re kidding.” Gerrard took the invitation out of her hands. “Trust Dakariou to give short notice.”

  “Council members, ecclesiastical leaders, wealthy members of the community.... We can’t not go. If one of those people is behind Nacalia’s mystery man...”

  “I’ll send Nacalia for a sedan chair.” From the hallway, Nacalia hooted with delight. Gerrard glared in her direction. “I’m positive the hallway is not your bedroom, whelp.”

  Nacalia peeked around the corner. “I never learn things if I do what I’m told.” She bounced over and accepted a handful of coin, then ran out the door. “Be careful,” Zerafine called after her. She hadn’t forgotten the stranger’s threat. “I don’t recall agreeing to the sedan chair,” she said to Gerrard.

  “Let’s skip to the part where I remind you that this is a fancy party and none of the women will be arriving on foot.”

  “I hate it when you’re right.”

  “Unfortunately, it’s not our biggest problem. The only thing you have to wear is that green thing, and the only thing I have to wear is that orange tunic that makes me look like a pumpkin.”

  “Ah, but what we do have,” Zerafine said, pointing at Gerrard’s belt pouch, “is an awful lot of money.”