by Holly Lisle
At that moment, The Bright's guards, a bit slow in responding, burst through the doors and drew their swords. Molly looked at them, said "You're late," and turned back to the dark god, which was of a type she'd never seen before.
"Stand down," The Bright told them. "The Vodi has already taken care of the problem." The guards looked at her again and nearly impaled each other getting their swords back into their sheaths. Drawing steel against the Vodi was a definite social faux pas, though if they had actually come at her with weapons drawn, they would have been the only ones to get hurt. The Bright asked Molly, "Why did that thing pretend to be my ally? The dark gods don't need us. They can take whatever they want without trade."
Molly studied him. "You're more useful to the dark gods if your population is growing, if your civilization is getting more complex, and if your technology is improving right along with it. The better you are able to wage war, the more you serve their needs." She gave him a sad little smile.
"But a steam engine is not a weapon of war, and neither is a thresher."
Molly sat back on her heels and looked over at him. "At a time of need, if you were being attacked by sea, do you think you could find a way to adapt that steam engine to power a weapon that would give you an advantage?"
The Bright came out of the corner and walked over to her, his fur and his elaborate robes spattered with the blood of an enemy that wanted to see not just him, but his whole world, dead.
"Of course we could," he said. "Techniques learned in the construction of one mechanical contrivance can easily be adapted to suit the purposes of a dozen or a hundred unrelated contrivances. That was why I was willing to pay so dearly for the working model of Ride-Slowly Son of Falling-in-Battle's steam engine. I intended that our artificers take the thing apart and determine the method of its working."
"Right. And that's why the dark gods prefer to work with you over the veyâr, for example. Or the goroths. You and your people are always looking for the better way."
"And that is a bad thing?"
Again she shook her head. "It's just a thing. Like technology. Like fire. Looking for the better way creates change, and every change is an opportunity that opposing forces can exploit. The veyâr don't change, so to the dark gods they're useless except as sources of land and bodies. Your people—you change. They can work with people like you."
"Which makes me and my people…evil." He looked distressed.
Molly reached into the body of the dark god, her fingers glowing with the fire of the universe, and pulled out one resurrection ring, and then another, and then a third. The gold gleamed in her hand, shedding the dark god's blood across the floor; the stink of the corpse and the fresh memory of his guts on her hands made Molly want to throw up.
Molly closed her eyes against the nausea and breathed shallowly through her mouth for a moment. When she was sure she had herself under control, she stood and said to the guards, "You may burn the body now."
They bowed to her and hurried forward to drag away the pieces of the corpse. Molly waited until they were gone, then turned back to The Bright. "You're very hung up on the whole good/bad thing, aren't you?"
"Hung up?"
Molly heard the words in his language but his meaning in English—the magic that permitted her to understand downworlders and make herself understood to them, no matter what language they spoke, had faltered at its one sticking point. The Bright had no concept of a hang-up—a personal obsession that carried negative connotations—so her words had been rendered to him literally. And, taken literally, they made no sense.
She sighed. "You see the world as divided between those things which are good and those things which are bad."
"That is because that is how the world is," The Bright said. "I am the Speaker of my people, the Master of White Hold, the City of Light. I am The Bright—the personification of all that walks under sunlight. It is my duty to find for my people all that is good in the light and bring it to them, and to identify all that is evil beneath the light, and make an end to it. For this I was born, for this I have lived. You met my two counterparts once—The Dark and The Deep. They hold the other two great cities of the Tradona people, and they are as I am—The Deep is Speaker for the seafaring Tradona, the Dark for those who delve the deep places of Oria and work beneath the stars. If we do not divine that which is good and that which is evil, we have failed our duty and our people." He hung his head. "As I have failed my people."
"You didn't fail anybody," Molly said. She cleaned her blade and resheathed it, then stood there for a moment looking at The Bright. "You three didn't like me very much when we first met," she said. "You doubted that I could be the true Vodi."
"I remember. I was clearly mistaken."
"You weren't. If a Vodi is someone good, someone who comes to heal and nurture and comfort, then I am no Vodi."
He looked at her. "You wear the Vodi necklace."
"I know that."
"But you claim you are not the Vodi. Then what are you?"
"I'm a hunter. A killer. A destroyer." She sighed. "I am the death of Death, in a small way. I hunt the dark gods and destroy them, and make sure they cannot come back. I am a useful tool, made in the same fashion as the monsters I hunt."
"But you are good. And they are evil."
She smiled a little. "That was the point I was trying to make. Evil and good are not in things, but in the way things are used. People—of whatever sort—are not innately evil or good; they choose to do evil things or good things, and so mark themselves as good or evil people. But any evil creature can choose at any time to do a kindness, and any good creature can commit an evil act."
"This is not the way I have learned to see the world."
"I know. I was just telling you this because…well…don't stop looking for the better way. Don't shun technology, don't hide from progress. I know you have the power to take the whole of the Tradona people back to a city lit only by fire, to vehicles powered only by horses, to grain threshed only by hand." Molly walked over to him and knelt down on one knee so the two of them were eye to eye. "And I saw in you a sudden desire to shun the things you have sought out. But don't. Don't walk away from things that can be used for good just because they can also be used for evil. Just be wary. Not everyone who calls you friend is a friend. The greatest enemies you face feed off death and destruction—and they don't care if you win or lose, so long as someone dies in the process."
One of the guards came back in. "The body is burning. Will you wish to watch?"
"No," she said. "I have what I need. I must…keep moving."
She left The Bright standing in his meeting hall, lost in thought. She walked alone through winding passageways and down stairs and out of the round, white stone city of White Hold.
I'm doing my job, she told herself. I'm moving on. This is my life now—the whole of my life. Hunt, kill, destroy. It's better this way. Seolar will do better if he does not have to watch me fade, and I will be able to fade in peace, without being constantly reminded that I'm losing myself—that I was once so much more than I am.
The resurrection rings of the dark god jangled softly in her pocket with each step she took, and purred against her hip. They called to her with songs of decadence and lust and orgiastic feeding. She could hear the song they sang as clearly as she heard the call of the darkness itself. She could clean them. Claim them for herself. Become stronger and more dangerous.
She walked faster, forcing herself to ignore the seduction of that call.
"It's better this way," she muttered.
CHAPTER 15
Daisies and Dahlias Florist, Cat Creek
ERIC SAID, "If there are no further questions, Lauren, you and Jake need to leave the room for a moment."
Pete looked at Heyr—one of them needed to go with Lauren to make sure she was safe, and one needed to stay and try to influence the voting. Heyr caught his look and stepped out of the mirror, and shut the gate all the way down behind him.
"We'll need to have that open," Eric said, and Heyr grinned a little.
"I know. And once you've voted, either your gateweaver or I will rebuild the gate for you." Heyr didn't point out that the only two people around who were capable of rebuilding the gate were him and Lauren, or that he was firmly in Lauren's corner. He didn't need to. It was subtle pressure, and Pete liked it.
The Sentinels needed Lauren—they needed her a lot more than she needed them, but he figured she needed them pretty badly, too.
"I don't think Pete should be in here, since he's involved in this and has been working with her," Raymond said. Pete spent a few seconds fantasizing about doing a little FBI background investigation on Raymond, maybe having his colleagues go through Raymond's personal life with a microscope and a pair of tweezers, just to see what fell out.
But Eric said, "Pete stays. I'm not sure if he votes, but he stays."
Small triumphs.
"Are you calling for a vote?" June Bug asked.
Eric shrugged. "Do any of you have any comments—that we haven't already heard?" he asked, looking straight at Raymond.
Louisa said, "He's only saying what a lot of us are thinking. She's wrong for the Sentinels, whatever else we decide, and at barest minimum she needs to be sent away."
Eric said, "We'll find out how many of us are thinking that in a moment, Louisa. Don't try to make your opinion seem like the only one."
Betty Kay looked at Eric, her hands clasped on her lap. "I'd really like to hear what you think. You're the only one who hasn't said anything."
"Hasn't been my place to say anything." Eric propped himself on the corner of the heavy oak table. "But since you asked, here are the issues as I see them. Lauren is and has been working far outside the Sentinel mandate. I can't deny it, you can't deny it, and she didn't try to deny it. So that's one point against her." He raised a finger. "She's doing something damned risky, something that is going to put Cat Creek right in the crosshairs of forces we're not big enough to fight, and the things on the other end of the gun are nasty. That's two." He raised a second finger. "The Cat Creek Sentinels are only semiautonomous, and in instances where anything really big is going on, we're supposed to make sure the Council knows what we're facing—and I think it's a safe bet that the Council is going to be scared shitless of this, pardon my French." He nodded to Darlene, who, along with her aversion to smoking, had a tendency to play vocabulary police and get offended in the presence of profanity.
Darlene, Pete thought, desperately needed to get laid. And probably never would if she kept being such a bitch.
"So if we involved ourselves in this," Eric continued, "it would have to be in a nonsanctioned manner. Frankly, I cannot recall the last time an entire group went rogue or received censure." He sighed. "So that's three against, and that last one is big."
"How do you know the Council won't be thrilled to find life on Kerras?" Pete asked.
"I don't. But the Council has never, to my knowledge, voted in favor of innovation. The entire purpose of the Sentinels has been to prevent change, to hold the line, to keep things stable."
Pete said, "An exclusively defensive military campaign is by its very nature a losing campaign. If you cannot retake territory, you cannot win the war."
Raymond leaned around to sneer at him. "Thank you, General Patton. But as Eric has pointed out, we have a job to do. This is not our job. I think the issue is as simple and obvious as that—and I think Eric has outlined perfectly the reasons why we cannot participate in this. I'm voting with him."
"I wasn't finished yet," Eric said, voice mild.
Raymond froze like a deer in headlights. It was fun to see.
"Those are my three points against Lauren and what she's doing. Here are my points in favor"—he looked from Raymond to Louisa and back to Raymond, and then scanned the rest of the Sentinels—"and yes, I do have points in favor."
"First of those is that what Lauren is doing is working. You saw life on Kerras. You saw magic working here. At present all of the live magic coming in is limited to tiny areas in unpopulated regions, but it's spreading out. For the first time in thousands of years—or maybe longer—things are getting better instead of worse. And we can point a finger to the exact reason, to the exact source, of the improvement, and that is Lauren. So, one in favor of Lauren. She's doing something that is making a difference." He raised a finger on his other hand. "Next, she had every reason to keep this to herself and distrust all of us, and at the same time, every reason to take the chance she was taking. If one of you knew how to save our world and everyone on it, including your child, wouldn't you? I would, or at least I like to think I would. And if you thought the people who should be helping and protecting you would instead find a way to have you killed for what you were doing, wouldn't you hide your actions from them? I would. So, that's two in favor of her." He paused and raised another finger. "Actually, that makes three. I understand that she chose to act. And I understand why she hid her actions." He looked at his hands, three fingers raised on each one.
A tie, Pete thought. A singularly unhelpful tie.
And then Eric took a deep breath. "Finally, the question of Sentinel involvement in what she's doing." He let his breath out and shook his head. "She's going to bring trouble wherever she is. But I don't think we should take the NIMBY approach to this."
"NIMBY?" Pete asked.
"Acronym. Not In My Back Yard. Usually refers to corporations looking to build power plants, landfills, recycling centers, prisons, and group homes." Eric leaned back and studied all the Sentinels again. "All things that people need, and know they need, but that they'd rather shove off on someone else. I think sending her away would be the wrong thing to do. I think leaving her to do her work alone would also be the wrong thing to do. I think we need to say to ourselves, 'If not me, then who? If not now, then when?'" He stood again, and hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his uniform pants. "This is our moment, I think. Today, with war all around us, and with a winning strategy before us for the first time, we have been called to serve. And we can either fight or we can run." His voice went quiet. "I'm a Southerner," he said. "Running doesn't sit well with me."
"So, Sheriff," Louisa said, "you're in favor of taking the Cat Creek Sentinels rogue?"
Eric winced a little at the way she phrased the question, but said, "I don't see that we have any other choice. Just as when Lauren decided to do what she's doing, I don't see that she had any other choice. We must do what is right. We must."
"Then you're not going to call for a vote? You're just going to tell us that we're going to do this?" Louisa asked.
Pete liked that idea, but Eric shook his head.
"No. If we do this, we must all do it, and we must all agree to it. We cannot have any in the group that we cannot trust to stand behind us—because if we do this, all we're going to have is each other."
"Then you don't even have to vote," Raymond said. "Because nothing you can say will convince me that sneaking around behind the Council or going rogue is the right thing to do. It isn't, and I know it, and in your gut every single one of you knows it."
"Not even to save this world and everyone on it, Raymond?"
Raymond crossed his arms over his chest. "If that's what's at stake, you'll be able to take this before the full Council."
"We can't risk that," George said suddenly. Everyone turned to look at him.
"We can't?" Eric looked surprised and interested.
"If the Council decides in her favor, fine. But if the Council decides against her, there is no one else who can do what she's doing. At least not that we know of."
Darlene hadn't said much, either. Now she spoke up as well. "This isn't something a committee could replace or correct if it made a mistake. They couldn't just plug someone else into her job to make everything better. They can't be given the opportunity to make a mistake, because if they make a mistake, they can't fix it."
"So we get to make the mistake instead," Raymond said.
"I can't believe you people. This is simple. This is wrong versus right, and you're trying to make it into something else. And you, Darlene. I thought you and I had already agreed to vote against Lauren on this."
Darlene said, "Healthy magic is coming through to us from Kerras for the first time since the Cuban Missile Crisis. There's life on Kerras again."
Raymond gave Darlene a murderous look. "And in a day or two the Night Watch will discover that and wipe it out. And they'll come here, too, and kill you and me and everyone else in this town on their way to get to Lauren."
Eric studied Raymond. "You're not going to see reason on this? You're not going to see why this is important?"
"I already see reason," Raymond said. "Either banish her or have her killed and be done with it. The Sentinels don't need her. We can do what this world needs, just like we always have. We don't need rogues, or traitors, or the children of traitors."