"I require nothing, Pater," Chainer said. "Though my friend and partner Kamahl was gravely injured during the raid. He is not Cabal, yet he put his own body in harm's way on the Cabal's behalf."
"Then your friend and partner also has my thanks. His wounds are being seen to?"
"They are. But if it pleases you, Pater, I have chosen my reward."
"Name it."
"Give me the Mirari," Chainer said, and Laquatus fought the urge to cry out.
"Not to keep," the young dementist went on, "but to use on my friend."
"I was unaware that the Mirari had healing powers," the First said. Laquatus heard an element of suspicion in the Patriarch's voice, suspicion that Laquatus shared. How did the boy know something about the Mirari that neither Laquatus or the First knew?
"As far as I know, it doesn't. But the extent of my powers has yet to be defined. I would like to try to help my friend with the Mirari in my hands."
Laquatus could no longer contain himself. "No one yet has touched the Mirari and lived," he blurted.
Chainer smiled. "Except for me, Ambassador. And I only seek to borrow the Mirari, not to own it."
The First paused, obviously deep in thought. "It shall be done," he said. "Although I shall accompany you, to protect the Cabal's interests."
"Of course, Pater."
"I should very much like to see the Mirari in the hands of an expert," Laquatus said. "Twice now I have watched it destroy its temporary owners."
"Your presence is not necessary," Chainer said. Laquatus was preparing to argue when Chainer continued, addressing the First. "Although I would also like to employ the Mirari as an aid in fulfilling our bargain with the ambassador. I can provide him with a new familiar at any time, but with the Mirari in hand, I can exceed his expectations."
"I have no objections to the dementist's proposal," Laquatus said quickly.
The First was slower to respond. "Very well," he said. "But one use of the Mirari is a reward. The second must be paid for."
"Pater. I am always at your service."
"When shall the Mirari be employed on my behalf?" Laquatus asked.
Chainer and the First exchanged a knowing glance, then each nodded. Laquatus was beside himself that they were communicating right in front of him, and he had no idea.what they were saying.
"Two days hence," the First said, and Chainer nodded again. "Now, there is one final matter that I need to address." He clapped his hands once, and the former Master of the Games was dragged, bound and kicking, into the chamber. She was gagged, but she continued to babble incoherently through the heavy cloth.
"Capau, be still." The sound of her secret name drained all the energy out of the former Master of the Games. She stood dazed and listless, her eyes glassy and fearful. The First gestured, and one of his attendants stepped forward and slashed her bonds from her wrists and ankles. The former Master of the Games stood perfectly still as if unaware of her new freedom.
Laquatus stole a glance at Louche, who had just taken over the dangerous position. For once the bitter little man was not thinking of how much others annoyed him. In fact, Laquatus didn't need to read minds to understand the sickly, haunted look on Louche's face.
"Sadget, step forward" the First intoned, and Fleer woodenly took up the space next to the bound master.
"You have failed, my children," the First said. "But in the Cabal failure is not punishable by death. Failure requires correction, not extinction. Your failures, however, have cost the Cabal too much. You will make amends for the lives and the materials wasted by your blundering." The First spread his arms wide, and for once none of his attendants jumped forward to do his bidding. In fact, Laquatus thought, even the near-mindless hand attendants were staying well clear of Fleer and the formerly bound woman.
"I forgive you, my children, for your failure." The First smiled at Laquatus, and added, "My greatest flaw is a tendency to overindulge my family. I can never stay angry at them for long." Laquatus smiled politely, but the Cabalists continued to writhe in horror before the First.
"Capau. Sadget. Accept your forgiveness, and your Pater's love. Embrace me and settle your account, so this matter can be forgotten."
Laquatus saw frenzied bolts of terror flash across Louche's mind, and even Chainer seemed apprehensive. The merman was fascinated. He had never seen anyone so much as brush the sleeve of the First's robe. He understood physical contact with their patriarch was the Cabalists' only taboo, and yet two of them were being beckoned into the First's arms by the man himself.
The errant Cabalists stepped woodenly forward, shuffling like sleepwalkers. Tears of terror were streaming down Fleer's face, and the former Master of the Games seemed almost catatonic. They came forward, however, and stood perfectly still as the First wrapped them both in his long arms.
As soon as the gray flesh of the First's hand touched the squirming Cabalists, they began to scream. The First tightened his grip and locked his hands together with Fleer and the deposed master held tight. Their skin blackened where he touched it. The patches of stricken skin spread like fire across a pool of oil, and fine tendrils of black smoke drifted from the victims into the First's waiting nostrils. The Cabal patriarch tightened his grip again and threw his head back. The two figures in his arms were now scarcely recognizable as human. Instead, they seemed to be delicate, paper-thin flowers that were drooping, dying, and rotting all in a matter of seconds. The hollow, brittle rinds of two adult Cabalists collapsed into a thousand fragments as the last of their essence was converted into ebon mist and absorbed by the First.
"Now," the First had grown larger, more robust, "all is truly forgiven." He clapped his hands together, dislodging ashen fragments from his sleeves. "Chainer," he said, "stay with me. The rest of you are dismissed with my thanks."
Laquatus followed Louche as the guards led them out and down the hallway. He would have to be especially careful now. In two days he would be in the same room with the Mirari while Chainer employed it. Everyone else who tried to use the sphere died in cataclysmic circumstances while the Mirari rolled free. If Chainer were going to destroy himself as Pianna and Aboshan had, Laquatus intended to make sure that this time he was the one who caught the bouncing ball.
*****
While the others were led away, the First had his attendants hold up documents for him to read, nodding once for each when he was finished. The attendants made the First's mark on the scrolls he approved, then took them away.
"It was a terrible thing, this crusat raid," the First said.
Chainer nodded.
"Such a thing should never be allowed to happen again," the First continued.
Chainer nodded.
"There were a hundred Cabal fatalities and twice a hundred injuries. But even more than for the murder of our brethren, I want Major Teroh and the other hard-liners to pay for their arrogance. Do they think they can attack us in our own home and walk away with only a bloodied nose? They owe us restitution, and no one walks away from a Cabal debt."
"The First is wise."
"You know what I'm going to ask, don't you?" The First's eyes were calm and wide.
"Yes, Pater."
"And in return, you know I will grant you a second use of the Mirari."
"Yes, Pater."
"When can you leave?"
"Tonight, Pater. After I have visited Kamahl and tried my best to heal him. He was instrumental in my shikar. I cannot leave him to the leeches."
The First nodded. "What did you think of my demonstration?"
Chainer paused. "I think the ambassador either encouraged or enabled the raid. I think he still wants the Mirari. I think he intends to use it to take control of Mer, and then he will come for Otaria."
"He will try," the First agreed. "But there is value in an ally with no morals. If he will betray us to the Order, he will in turn betray the Order to us."
"The First is wise."
"Let us discuss the details of the casting you have planned for
him. I may be able to… improve the overall result."
"As soon as I return, Pater."
"Outstanding. Now," he thrust his hands deep into the sleeves of his robe. "Let us attend to your barbarian friend."
CHAPTER 21
Thirty miles up the eastern road from Cabal City, the Samite sanctuary was filled to capacity. Nibahn the healer was on her third trip to the apothecary for clean bandages and sleeping herbs. The majority of her patients were expected to live through the night, but only if she and her staff worked round the clock. She believed utterly in the Order, but she despised the brutality of the crusat. The Samite way of universal tolerance was the only way she knew to bring about a better world.
Halfway back to the hospital, a whispered voice from the shadows hissed, "Healer." Nibahn adjusted the thick bundle of bandages and clay bottles under one arm and approached the sound. "Hello? Are you wounded? All are welcome. All are safe. Will you come forward?" She could make out two human figures in the darkness, two men of roughly equal size. One of them took a half step forward and spoke.
"Kindness for kindness, Samite. No one walks away from a Cabal debt." Nibahn felt something round and hard strike her forehead, and she fell back in a swoon. Though conscious, she was too stunned by the blow to see or move. Someone wrapped metal bonds around her hands, and dragged her roughly by the collar into the shadows.
"You understand why you're here?" the whispering voice said to something in the shadows. The only reply was an angry, ominous buzz.
"Then go," the voice said, and Nibahn heard no more.
*****
Major Teroh made a brief obeisance to the angel guarding the door and entered the hospital. The Samites were deluded fools, but their healing arts had been handed down for thousands of years and were still unmatched.
Inside, the Major scowled as he took in the rows and rows of wounded troopers, aven and human alike. Teroh cursed Laquatus for giving him the idea for the raid, but he could not blame everything on the ambassador. The merman had gotten them into the heart of the city with some sort of water teleportation spell, just as he had promised. It was a risky plan from the start, and the Cabal had offered far more resistance than Teroh had expected.
Still, he thought, as he continued to tour the hospital, it might not be a complete loss. The Cabal still held the Mirari, but now that the crusat was open and declared, other Order commanders from all around Otaria were contacting Teroh, looking to join his army. It would be well worth the loss of a few hundred troopers if a few thousand rose up in righteous fury to avenge them.
There was a scuffle at the entrance, and Teroh turned to see what was causing it. A tall, thin man dressed in what appeared to be black paper was attempting to enter the hospital, and the angel had drawn her sword to block him. The man's face was featureless, hidden under a wide-brimmed hat.
"To arms," the angel cried. "Hostile on the ward." She couldn't take flight amid such close quarters, but she spread her wings anyway to keep the man from darting past her. Teroh still did not understand the concern in her voice. The intruder looked about as substantial as a scarecrow, and he wasn't even armed.
The angel struck first, something Teroh had never seen before. Usually they waited for their opponents to strike or threaten an innocent before they attacked. From his vantage point across the room, he could see the angel and the intruder in profile. She had driven her sword straight into his torso, where it met no resistance as it plunged through. The scarecrow didn't flinch.
The angel turned her head and screamed across the room, "Run! In Serra's name, run now!" The staff of the hospital looked to Teroh, and he shrugged. Most of the wounded were dozing, and few of them were fit enough to get out of bed anyway.
"Sister," Teroh raised his voice as he addressed the angel, "what are you-" He stopped when he saw a clinging gray smoke waft out of the scarecrow's chest wound. Teroh realized the intruder wasn't dressed in paper, his skin was made of paper-or something very much like it. His chest had not been cut by the angel's sword, it had been torn like parchment.
The mist floated in midair between the two figures for a moment longer, and then it rushed at the angel. The smoke began to bubble and boil as it touched her face, her neck, her arms, and she screamed, something else Teroh had never known an angel to do.
"Swords," he called as he drew his own, and two more angels and a handful of on-duty troopers responded.
As her comrades approached, and the mist churned and boiled across her flesh, the first angel flailed wildly with her sword. It passed harmlessly through the mist, but whenever the blade touched the scarecrow, his papery skin split, and more gray mist wafted out to join the assault. The angel was in agony, but she refused to abandon her post.
A second angel lunged forward with her sword. There was a swish and a rustle, and the intruder's head dropped backward, connected to his torso only by a few papery threads. His body still stood, however, and now the gray mist poured out of his neck to attack the second angel.
"Stop cutting him," Teroh barked, but it was too late. Whatever filled the scarecrow's body was caustic and was quickly stripping the exposed skin off the two angels. Teroh grabbed a nearby Samite by the shoulder and said, "Bring bed sheets. Towels. Anything that we can wrap him in to staunch that smoke and get him out of here."
The first angel dropped where she stood, her face stripped down to the bone, and the smoke was not dissipating. In fact, it seemed to be growing, larger and thicker as it consumed the rest of its first victim. Teroh stared in horror as he realized it wasn't smoke at all. It was insects. Millions of them, each no bigger than a pinpoint, stripping the flesh from the angels' bones by the mouthful. And with each mouthful, they were growing bigger. "Fire," Teroh yelled to a trembling trooper. "We need fire." The buzzing of the tiny swarm grew louder and more furious as the insects themselves grew larger and larger. The second angel fell, little more than a winged skeleton. The bugs on the first angel were now as big as wasps, and Teroh could see their savage mandibles working as they consumed their victims. The Samite he had ordered to fetch bed sheets came forward with them, but the healer's eyes were locked on the ever-increasing swarm that blocked the only exit.
"You," Teroh pointed at a trio of soldiers, "and you and you. That thing has to be driven outside. Charge." "Charge, sir?"
"It's going to kill us all! Gods damn it, I gave you an order! Now charge, troopers! Defend the Order!"
Two of the three soldiers rushed at the deflating hive man and were promptly engulfed in gray mist and voracious insects. The third stood frozen while his partners died screaming. Teroh stormed over to the man and ran him through where he stood.
"Coward," he snarled.
The bugs were now as big as carrier pigeons, and they started to spread out across the hospital. New cries of pain issued out from bandaged faces and cloth partitions. The last angel on the ward leaped in and slashed one of the larger insects in two. Both halves reformed into smaller versions of the original and promptly attacked the angel's face.
The air was thick with the sounds of agony and the terrible buzzing of the hive. The insects were so numerous and so large that it became impossible to see clearly. Teroh held his sword loosely in his hand, and scanned the crush of screaming people. There were no ranks in the room anymore, however, only panicked individuals fighting for their lives.
I must escape, Teroh realized. I have to get word of this to Bre-tath. Though he was livid with rage at the thought of another retreat, Teroh knew his original thinking was correct. It was worth the loss of a hundred, or five hundred, or a thousand, if ten thousand more would march to replace them.
Teroh turned his sword on the cloth wall of the tent beside him and dove through the rent. He got to his feet and looked back into the hospital, but there was nothing he could do for those who remained inside. He could only take their deaths to Bretath and use them to raise more troops for the crusat.
Teroh turned and sprinted for the command tent across the
compound. Without a torch, he didn't see the two spears jammed deep into the ground with a length of chain stretched neck-high between them. He felt it, however, as the chain and the spears held, cracking his larynx and slamming him flat on his back. Choking, dazed, and helpless, Teroh stared up at the starless sky. A calm, careful tread approached him. Whoever it was carried a light source on his chest, and Teroh watched a tall, slender man with braided hair and hollow eyes lean over him.
"Hello, Major." Chainer's dagger was out, and he laid the tip of it on Teroh's jugular vein. "The Cabal is here, and everywhere. Your crusat ends now. Goodbye, Major."
When he was done, Chainer wiped his dagger on the long grass and stayed on the eastern road until the commotion in the sanctuary, the command tent, and the barracks died down. Under his direction, the bugs focused their attack on the soldiers and stayed away from the ranch and stables. He knew the insects would continue to gorge until they had consumed everything in their immediate area, growing larger all the while. Then, they would turn on each other.
Chainer practiced making snakes while he waited. He was getting quite good at it.
When he activated the First's teleportation spell several hours later and returned to Cabal City, the only things left alive in Teroh's camp were an unconscious Samite healer and a stable of fine white chargers.
*****
The first thing Kamahl saw when he awoke was Chainer. In the cramped, candlelit room, the Cabalist crouched over him like a smirking vulture.
"The Cabal is here," Chainer said, and Kamahl groaned.
"How long have I been out?" Kamahl's body felt heavy, drugged, and leaden.
"Just over a day. You should lie still. You've been wounded, and you aren't done healing yet."
"Wounded?" Kamahl searched his fuzzy memories. "I was fighting at the gates. We were breaking them on the walls. I remember a glowing knight, and the smell of… burning air. Then everything went white and jagged and hot."
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