CHAPTER 23 #2
“Thank you, Marino,” Ilva said, a note of tension in her voice as she nodded towards the map. “Althorne, you may resume.”
“Wait,” Helena said. Her heart was pounding as she forced herself to look up from the numbers, staring at the empty seat where Luc was supposed to be.
Anything. Anything. Anything. “I submitted a proposal to the Council a week ago, along with my report on the hospital inventory, and several weeks before, too. I never received an answer.”
There was a tense silence. She plunged on.
“I know—it is hard to consider, but I believe we should offer Resistance members the choice of donating their bodies to the cause in the event that they’re killed in combat,” she said.
“Rather than burning the bodies, we could—” She hesitated a moment, knowing she could never take back what she was about to say.
“—reanimate them and use them as an infantry in order to protect our living combatants. This would be done only with their written permission—”
“Absolutely not,” Ilva said, cutting her off.
“That is treason!” came another voice.
Helena looked up and met the eyes of Falcon Matias, who glared down at her, his face livid.
“You stand before us and propose a desecration of the natural cycle. This is the reason why vivimancers can never be trusted, not even for a moment. They are corrupt from conception! This is why this country faces war even now. One moment of leniency and their corrupted natures will seek to spread their contamination.” He turned to the Council members seated beside him, inclining his head.
“I am ashamed that such apostasy could be uttered by my oblate. I beg the Council’s forgiveness.
She will be taken in hand, placed in chains, and stripped of all—”
“We are fighting a war against the dead and the Undying,” Helena said.
She’d known they wouldn’t listen, but surely by now they understood the Eternal Flame couldn’t possibly win if things continued as they were.
“It wouldn’t be done to anyone who didn’t consent while they were still alive.
Our soldiers are willing to die for the cause; why not at least give them the choice to keep fighting and spare the living? ”
“What do you know about fighting?”
The question came from behind her. She looked back, but there were so many people glaring at her, she couldn’t even guess at who’d spoken.
“Your proposal is a violation of everything the Eternal Flame has stood for since the moment of its founding,” Ilva said in a cold voice. “You want us to consider the damnation of our soldiers’ souls? You took oaths, Marino. Did I misjudge you? Have your abilities made you forget your humanity?”
“No!” Helena said, ragged with frustration.
The file in her hands was crumpling as she gripped it.
“I am loyal to the cause. My vows are to protect life and fight against necromancy no matter the cost. This would be to that end. I would sacrifice my soul for the Eternal Flame. There might be others who would as well. Can’t we ask? ”
Falcon Matias stood up. He was a tiny, bony man, and he looked prepared to launch himself over the dais at Helena and strangle her.
“The Order of the Eternal Flame, created by Orion Holdfast himself, was founded on Sol’s principles of the natural cycle of life and death.
It was for Orion’s bravery and willingness to sacrifice his life that he was blessed by the heavens and made victorious.
Any use of necromancy is a violation of the cycle.
Your thoughts and words are a stain upon the Eternal Flame and history itself. ”
“Who are we saving right now?” Helena said, her voice rising. “How many more can we lose before—”
There was the firm smack of a flat hand on the marble table, and the ceiling overhead abruptly rearranged itself. Helena’s words were swallowed, leaving a deadly silence.
Jan Crowther lifted his hand away from the dais, his eyes narrowed into slits as he studied her.
“Marino, your voice is no longer recognised by this body,” Ilva said after a moment, her voice cool and deliberate.
“However, it is plain to see that you are—hysterical. Given that you are clearly not sound of mind, we will not have you disavowed for this.” As she spoke, Ilva looked sharply at Matias, who looked ready to protest. “In gratitude for your years of service, I will have this outburst stricken from the records.” She closed her eyes briefly as if in prayer.
“I’m only grateful that Principate Lucien was not here to witness this betrayal of faith.
Tell Matron Pace she will handle all future reports from the hospital. You are dismissed.”
Without another glance in Helena’s direction, Ilva turned towards the map once more. One of her hands rested on Matias’s arm to calm him. “Moving on now. Althorne, you may continue.”
Althorne’s voice was a distant rumble in Helena’s ears as she turned and left the war room.
S TANDING IN THE CORRIDOR OUTSIDE, Helena looked down at herself.
Except for the clean gloves she’d pulled on as she left the hospital, she was covered in blood.
The file slipped from her fingers onto the floor, and she clamped her hands over her mouth to keep from keening as her chest started to heave.
A heavy hand landed on her shoulder. “Not here. Sweet fire, you’re a dunce.”
She was guided, blindly, down the hallway into the adjoining corridor before being let go. She sagged against the wall, sliding to the floor, head pressed against her knees as she sobbed until her head felt hollow.
She looked up at Soren, who stood a foot away, leaning against the wall, watching her with his deep-set eyes.
If he was here, it meant Luc must be back, too. He must have crashed from exhaustion if they’d run the meeting without him.
Soren shook his head. “You should have cried before you went in for your report, unless you were betting on Ilva forgiving you for reasons of temporary insanity.”
“Shut up,” she said, shrinking smaller, her chest hitching.
“You could’ve at least washed up if you wanted to be taken seriously.”
“Shut—up,” she said again.
“You knew it wasn’t going to work,” he said, folding his arms. “You had to have known. They’re never, ever, ever in a million years going to approve using necromancy on our soldiers. Or on anyone not our soldiers, before you get any other ideas.”
She pulled her knees tight against her chest. “You have no idea what it’s like in the hospital.”
“No, I don’t,” Soren said in a flat voice, “and neither does anyone else in there, so I don’t know why you thought screaming at them while looking like that would change their minds.”
She was too tired to argue.
“You know what your problem is?”
Helena said nothing. He’d tell her whether she wanted him to or not. He’d always possessed all the sharp edges and wariness that Luc lacked.
“You don’t have faith in the gods.”
“Yes, I do,” she said quickly.
“No. You don’t. You think you do because you think they probably exist, but that’s not faith. You don’t trust them.”
“Why would I? They haven’t done anything to deserve being trusted,” she said, her voice thick.
“I’ve tried everything, Soren. I try to believe, but it’s never enough.
Even if I did really believe—if my soul’s the price of saving you, of saving everyone”—she choked—“that’s not a price. That’s a bargain.”
He dropped into a squat in front of her so that their faces were al most level. “That doesn’t matter, though. They’ll never agree. No one will. You’re just hurting yourself.”
She looked down. “Then we’re going to lose,” she said in a dull voice. “And I’m going to be the one who puts you back together, over and over, until I have to watch you die instead. And we still won’t win.”
Soren gave a heavy sigh. “I’m guessing no one told you, but this battle was actually quite the victory for us.”
She should have felt something at this news, but she was empty. “Whether you win a battle or lose it, all I see is the cost.”
“Just figured you’d want to know, because Luc thinks it’s a sign that things are finally taking a turn.”
Helena felt as if her chest had caved in.
“Don’t take that from him. Please.”
She nodded silently. Soren rested a hand on her shoulder. She could tell he wanted to say something else, but he just stood up instead.
“We’re back for a few days. I’m sure we’ll see you around. You should clean up and get some sleep. You need it.”
He walked away.
Helena stayed curled against the wall, too crushed beneath her despair to move.
“M ARINO.”
A cool voice jolted Helena awake.
Her eyes snapped open, and she found Ilva Holdfast standing before her, both hands resting idly on the head of her cane. Helena was still huddled against the wall where Soren had left her.
“Let’s have a private chat,” Ilva said, her tone even and emotionless.
Helena’s stomach shrivelled as she stood stiffly.
They went up a floor to Ilva’s office, and she produced a little key from her pocket to unlock it.
Helena had always admired that Ilva never tried to hide her lack of resonance, never acted ashamed or apologetic about it.
Even though most people didn’t possess measurable resonance, once swept into the world of alchemy, the absence sometimes felt startling to encounter.
The guild families staked everything upon their alchemy; their future and fortunes depended on maintaining their traditional resonance.
They were borderline superstitious about their children’s abilities, and so a Lapse in the family was often taken as a sign that the bloodline was weak.
But Ilva had never been hidden away by the Holdfasts. The Faith had long held that resonance was no form of superiority; it was Sol’s will to endow whom he would.