Votive

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Votive Page 18

by Karen Brooks


  ‘Not all of us.’ He frowned and gathered his thoughts. ‘There’s been a terrible disagreement among us, Katina. Oh, we present a united face to all you Riders, but within our ranks there’s great discord. Elders Nicolotti and Pisano, along with a couple of the others, they want to encourage Tallow towards a particular choice. They feel that the term “choice” is flexible, that it’s in the Riders’ best interests to pursue a particular line. They also argue that the prophecy states the “end of the world as we know it” – not its imminent destruction.’

  He rose and walked around for a moment, holding the book he’d first picked up in his hand, discussing Plato in a loud voice. Katina watched him, bemused as to how he could switch from one topic to another until she realised he was not talking about the book he was holding. She glanced at the pile on the table. There was no work by Plato sitting among them, though she was familiar with his writings. Elder Maggiore continued, discussing the philosopher’s book, The Republic, an imagined ideal state where one class ruled and all others fell into an ordered hierarchy, where certain professions were excluded and others embraced. He was not babbling. He was telling her something.

  He sat back down quickly. ‘The Elders would create a new world order?’ she asked.

  ‘Sì. A closed one, here, within the Limen. One where Bond Riders rule.’

  Katina gasped and hid it with a cough.

  ‘What about the Estrattore?’

  Elder Maggiore stared at her gravely. ‘It’s because of the Estrattore that they seek do to this. To protect us from their intentions.’ She recoiled in disbelief. This time, he took her hand in his. ‘Katina, do you know why they brought Tallow into the world?’

  Katina shook her head.

  He squeezed her hands tightly. ‘We believe Tallow was created to do one thing and one thing only. She’s to destroy the pledge stones.’

  Katina pulled away from Elder Maggiore’s grip and retreated to the back of the bed. She was speechless.

  He watched her for a moment and then continued conversing for the benefit of other ears.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us? You had us searching for the baby all that time and you knew …’ she hissed.

  ‘What would you have done?’

  ‘Back then?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Killed her.’ Horrified by the truth of her response, Katina drew up her knees and hugged them close. She thought of how immersed she’d been in the welfare of the Bond Riders. Years ago, she wouldn’t have thought twice about eliminating a threat to them – even a baby. Thank the gods she hadn’t known. Thank the gods Tallow lived.

  ‘That’s what we thought,’ said Elder Maggiore, studying the expressions that crossed her face.

  ‘Are you certain? I mean, the Estrattore made the pledge stones. Why would they destroy them?’ How does that restore balance? How could this be true? Katina sat in shocked silence. It went against everything she knew of the Estrattore. And as for Tallow – sweet, innocent Tallow was born to be a weapon. She recalled the immense power she felt in the girl. Tallow couldn’t. She wouldn’t, would she? She shuddered; doubt replaced the fear. She glanced at Elder Maggiore and, unwrapping her arms from her body, lowered her legs.

  Elder Maggiore gave her time to think about what she’d been told before he resumed. ‘Once it was discovered that Bonds could be made without the intervention of the Estrattore, that they were required only to return a person’s soul, well, you can imagine what happened.’

  Katina regarded him gravely. ‘Anarchy.’

  ‘Sì. To many, the Estrattore lost their purpose. The nobiles started to pledge people to ridiculous, long-term enterprises, force them into Bonds. The Estrattore resisted this. This is what led to the huge schism between the Estrattore and the ruling classes of Serenissima. It was a battle for the souls of the people.’

  ‘And the Church of the Great Patriarch entered the rift.’

  ‘Esatto. And, they won. How can the popolani live without spiritual guidance? The nobiles, well, they worship soldi. And, once the Doge turned from the Estrattore, it was only a matter of time before the Church, with another band of followers, only this time with power and wealth on their side, met that need. To the Estrattore, destroying the pledge stones will destabilise the power of the nobiles, the power of Serenissima. It will allow the Estrattore to return from exile and bring back balance.’

  ‘So why now? The Church has been a fixture in Serenissima for centuries.’

  ‘Who knows? Revenge? A sense of right or righteousness? Anyway, when we learnt what the Estrattore intended, we ordered you to take the child. We had to get her away from them until we could work out what to do.’

  ‘How did you find this out?’

  ‘One of the Estrattore confessed to us.’

  ‘You have contact with them? But I thought …’ Her voice trailed away. She didn’t know what to think anymore.

  Elder Maggiore sighed. ‘That we didn’t know where they were, that they were lost to us? They were. It was only because there was one who sought us out. It was from her that we learnt about Tallow; she revealed to us the ambigious nature of the prophecy and what the Estrattore were doing; just as we are doing now, they were manipulating it for their own ends. In telling us, she sought to give the prophecy a chance – maybe even restore balance; or maybe we’re still being duped and I am nothing but an old fool. But I fear with what’s happening now, what some of the Elders intend, we’ve all failed. We hover on the brink, Katina.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Because I believe that you and Dante, with your Obbligare Doppio, can influence fate. Oh, not in narrow, conventional ways, but by allowing destiny to take its course – and I’m not the only one. You are both Bonded to Tallow. You and Dante will protect her interests – not those of the Bond Riders or the Estrattore or anyone else – just Tallow – the child of the legends. That’s what has upset the other Elders so much. You have, out of nowhere, overturned their well-laid plans. In doing so, you’ve given the prophecy a chance to unfold according to fate or free will, not somebody’s determined outcome.’

  He fell silent. There was something he wasn’t revealing. Katina chose not to press him. Not yet.

  Sitting down next to her on the bed, he continued. ‘You’ve seen the changes in those who trickle through the Limen over the years. They don’t think of others, only themselves. They no longer seek to fulfil their Bonds, but hide, timid and lazy, caught in the lust of their relationships, of the liberties they experience here, hoping they will never be called into Vista Mare. They’re prepared to forego their sacred promise, to commit sacrilege, and all for a false freedom.

  ‘We cannot go on this way. Our life has no meaning. What we do here has no purpose except to gather wealth and power – just like the nobiles of Serenissima we claim to despise. Look at us.’ He gestured to his robe of office. ‘Look at me. We’re nothing but pale imitations of what we left behind.’

  ‘What can I do?’ Katina asked finally.

  ‘Find Tallow before either the Riders who Elder Nicolotti sends or the Estrattore do – for I have no doubt they will all try to use her to influence the outcome of the prophecy. If that happens, then all hope is lost.’

  ‘What’s Elder Nicolotti got to do with this? What Riders?’

  Elder Maggiore leant so close, his lips touched Katina’s ear as he spoke. ‘Elder Nicolotti is one of those who will seek to influence the outcome of the prophecy. He has persuaded some of the other Elders that Tallow should be our weapon and he will use what ever resources he has at his disposable to ensure he has her.’

  ‘So, he’s the one behind the plan to use her to release the souls trapped in the pledge stones?’

  ‘Sì. And, as I said, in doing so, create a new order, a new world with him at the helm. Imagine it, Katina, thousands of souls all with unnaturally long lives.’

  Katina pulled away and regarded him gravely. ‘And his Riders? I am guessing
you’re referring to Santo and Stefano?’

  Elder Maggiore patted her knee. ‘You do not disappoint, Katina. You’re right. I do not presume to understand the nature of Stefano or Santo’s Bonds, but it seems that whatever they are, Nicolotti has suborned them and is using them for his own purpose – a purpose in which you, or at least your new Bond, feature strongly.’ The twinkle in his eye darkened. ‘You must be careful. For some reason, even beyond this –’ he reached for her hand and turned it gently so the new mark could be clearly seen ‘– you pose a huge threat to Nicolotti’s intentions.’

  Katina’s fingers curled protectively over her scar.

  ‘What about the Morte Whisperers? They hunt for her as well.’

  Elder Maggiore’s eyes slid to the door. ‘Ah, the Morte Whisperers. Sì, we know. They grow in numbers. They wait until we stray beyond Settlement and they take us.’

  ‘What are they, Elder Maggiore? Do you know? Or is that another secret you keep from us?’

  He regarded her for a long time before speaking. ‘You’re asking the wrong person, Katina. Find the Estrattore, then ask what they know of the Morte Whisperers.’

  The candle flickered and the shadows in the cave lengthened, casting Elder Maggiore’s face into darkness. Ask the Estrattore? What did they have to do with the nightmarish creatures that took whatever remained of a person’s life-force and consumed it? She shuddered. There was so much she still didn’t know and already her heart was heavy with what she’d learnt.

  ‘What’s going to happen to me and Dante now, then?’ she asked finally.

  ‘That I don’t know. I wish I did. I wish I could reassure you. I will do what I can to influence the trial in your favour. That is –’ He hesitated.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘If you will help me, help those of us who believe in the prophecy – those who believe that in order for balance to be restored, Tallow must be able to choose freely.’ His eyes were liquid flint.

  Katina could not shake the notion that she was either being moulded into a shape she detested or sacrificed for a cause she wasn’t sure she believed in. But trapped in her cell she could do nothing to influence either the direction or outcome. Outside, she had a chance and that meant Tallow had one too. ‘I will help you,’ she said.

  Elder Maggiore drew in his breath sharply, his shoulders straightening as he withdrew from her slowly. Katina felt as if she’d just passed an important test. ‘Bene, bene. Eat, drink, build up your strength.’ He lowered his voice one last time. ‘All that matters is the prophecy. That it should be allowed to unfold without interference from those who feel they have a stake in it; that Tallow be able, when the time is right, to choose. What the fates decree, we will then have to accept, whoever we are. Whatever we believe.’

  Katina bowed her head.

  Elder Maggiore stood and shook out his robes. ‘Well, Katina, I don’t know if I’ll be able to visit again. I will try. But take advantage of the food – do not reject that which is offered, will you?’

  He stared at her earnestly.

  ‘No. I’m not yet so foolish,’ said Katina, rising to stand beside him. ‘I am even grateful.’ She took the Elder’s offered hand and kissed it. He lifted her face and touched his lips to her forehead warmly.

  ‘Gods be with you, my daughter.’ Without another word, he left.

  The door clicked and she heard the key turn in the lock. Katina stood in the centre of the cell staring vacantly at the spot Elder Maggiore had last occupied, his words, his hopes, his fears, his information echoing in her ears. Her head was full of everything she’d been told; the answers she’d so longed for had been given. Only with them came more questions and more doubts and foreboding.

  With a long sigh, she lit another candle before collapsing back onto her bed, placing her hands behind her head. She studied the ceiling, noting the way the candlelight enlarged her silhouette, causing it to fill the uneven rock face, distorting her form. It was how she felt inside – altered, transformed. She would never be the same again.

  Everything Elder Maggiore told her she went over, sifting the information bit by bit, slotting pieces into the puzzle. What had once seemed so straightforward was more elaborate and challenging than she could have imagined. Nothing was black or white, but everything, like the Limen itself, was in shades of grey. Disagreement among the Elders, the Estrattore; conflict within: all of them working at cross purposes, which led to secrets, betrayal and worse. Why was she surprised? Why should the Bond Riders be any different from anyone else? Since when did large groups of people agree about anything?

  It occurred to her that she hadn’t asked about Dante. Not that she needed to. The Bond they shared let her know he was doing well – better than well. It was a wrench being away from him, especially now, when she had so much to share, information she could not impart to Alessandro or Debora for what that knowledge would do to them; the danger it would place them in.

  As her thoughts roamed, a great pair of eyes filled her vision, silver ones staring at her own with such love and trust that it took her breath away. In them, she knew if she looked hard enough, she would find her own face.

  Only she wasn’t so sure she wanted to see it, carved as it was into an expression of suspicion, weighed by new understanding and graven dread.

  ‘Oh, Tallow,’ she said softly. ‘What have we done?’

  TIME FLEW BY SWIFTER THAN A PETREL, and with its passing came the heavy snows and thick blue mists that wrapped the city in soft, pale blankets, obscuring everything in their wintery embrace.

  I had been with the Maleovellis for over three months, and in this period I had learnt much. But it was my time with Baroque that, above all else, I enjoyed, and not only because of the conversations we shared and the emotions we plumbed. I could relax with Baroque, let my guard down. After that first lesson, when we were both awkward with each other – like dancers who didn’t know the steps but who had been flung together to perform, day by day – bit by bit, Baroque’s and my relationship shifted. Whether it was the little scraps of gossip that would trip from his tongue, information about the Doge, his family, other nobiles and the life in the palazzo that he divulged, or that he could make me laugh, I was uncertain. All I knew was that one day, I anticipated my time downstairs in a way I hadn’t before.

  Jacopo may have read about Estrattore and be considered the family authority, but it was Baroque who instinctively knew how to teach me.

  From him I acquired knowledge, not just about the Estrattore and potions and herbs, but also the fierce Sultans of the Ottoman Empire and their bloodthirsty legionaries, the Kings of Moroko, Aquitaine, Konstantinople and Hibernya. About the sand people of Banghazi that ruled the dry lands across the Mariniquian Seas with their dark, smooth skins like Hafeza, and the courageous warriors who dwelled in the Contested Territories of Judea. He did not tell me with words so much, but by bringing me samples of produce such as cloth from a merchant who traded across Vista Mare, or the dried seeds of fruit that had tumbled out of a barrel brought from Hellas. Every day, I would enter the workshop and he would either gesture to a new object on the table or he would pull something from underneath his jacket – a piece of wood, an earring, lace, grains of dirt, salt or spices; seemingly innocuous, they were like plunging myself into a vat of experience.

  He also kept his promise to the Maleovellis and taught me that which he did not wish to – the tricks of his former trade. I learnt how to crush the petals of certain flowers and herbs to cure fevers, make a laxative, create feelings of great well-being and aid sleep. I also discovered how these same flowers, when mixed with the ground root or bark of other plants, could be malignant.

  At first, I found it difficult to work with these powders and pastes. I found myself gasping for air, becoming lethargic, euphoric or breaking out in a sweat and shaking so badly that I couldn’t wield the pestle against the mortar. We’d have to stop and I would flee outside and breathe in the cold air.

  It took a few days to d
iscover the source of the problem.

  ‘You’re extracting while you’re mixing,’ complained Baroque. ‘If you keep doing that, there’ll come a time when you’re no longer able to prevent the effect it has on your system. What if you’re mixing a poison and you’re overcome? What use is a dead Estrattore to anyone?’

  Desperation entered his eyes.

  ‘You’re right,’ I said slowly. ‘I am extracting. Not deliberately – I do it instinctively because it helps me understand what it is I’m handling.’ I ran my hands over my face. They came away damp. ‘It’s how I used to make the candles.’

  Baroque frowned. ‘I thought as much. Some of the potions we’re making, the essences we’re creating – there’s a huge difference between the effects of what a little can induce and what a larger amount can do. You must be more careful. We must be. You need to understand how to work these, the balance required before you can even think about distilling the effects into your own body, let alone the candles.’

  He placed his hand against my forehead. ‘Hmmm. You have no fever, but you’re clammy. Would you like to stop for the day? Rest?’

  I glanced through the window towards the small patch of sky above us. Although it was cloudy, the light was still bright. It was only early afternoon. ‘Can we keep going? I am so close to being able to understand what it is this plant can do.’

  And so we’d resumed.

  It was a relief to lose myself in the pure essence of plants such as comfrey, the sweet-scented melissa, periwinkle and the beautiful tri-coloured flower, heartsease.

  Whether grinding these plants into potions or ointments or simply studying them to extract their properties, they offered me an escape that being in the casa didn’t allow. Over the weeks, I’d learnt to mine the essence of the plants and distil them to their most rudimentary form. Whereas Baroque told me that comfrey was used as a poultice to mend broken bones, I was able to discover that when I drew on its essential components alone, I could distil its quintessence in different ways. Candles infused with a little comfrey worked to heal broken relationships as well, to make whole what had once been fractured emotionally or physically. Once the Maleovellis realised the effects of these candles, they began to burn them whenever they had the chance, working hard to re-establish old friendships, encourage partnerships. As the candles melted, so had the hardened hearts of those who once swore never to associate with the Maleovellis again.

 

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