Chapter X. The Offering #2
“My old ’prentice glanced to my cousin, smoothing back his hair. ‘I mean, nae r—’
“‘Good. Let’s be off.’
“Without waiting for objection, I spun on silvered heels, stalking back across the bailey. Finishing off my bottle, I marched through the bustling chateau without pause, out into the rear courtyard, and through the clifftop gates to the road beyond.
“Afternoon was deepening now, dim daysdeath light falling over the scarred city below, the oceans gleaming black. The docks were thronged with people, gulls swarming overhead, the fisher fleet that kept the city fed unloading their catch. I was halfway down the cliffroad before I heard silver heels striking the cobbles behind, my old ’prentice slowing as he finally reached my side, wreathed in the scent of fresh sweat.
“‘Took your time,’ I muttered.
“Lachie grinned, green eyes shining. ‘Ye walk quick fer an old man.’
“‘Damn right I do. We’ve places to be. If you and Aaron weren’t so busy spitting shit at each other…’
“‘He always takes the first bite, Gabe. But I’ll take the last. If yer boy doesn’t like the taste of shoe leather, ye should warn him to stop chewin’ at my ankles.’
“‘He’s not my boy, he’s my brother. Same as you. I wish you’d remember that.’
“I turned with a scowl, drawing my pipe from my greatcoat as I marched on down the cliffroad. After a breath, Lachie fell into step beside me.
“‘Where we headed?’
“‘Checking in with M. Cortez. Sooner we’re gone from this fucking city, the better.’
“‘Aye. Warm baths. Hot food. Soft beds. It’s a shitehole to be sure.’
“‘Every day we waste, Voss draws closer to Augustin.’
“‘I know it.’ Lachlan sucked his lip, speaking with hesitance. ‘But … the capital isn’t helpless, Gabe. There are the imperial legions for Voss to contend with. Alexandre’s Golden Host, sixty thousand strong. Nae sure what four more of us will do in the grand scheme.’
“I stopped short, staring him down. ‘The hell are you saying?’
“‘Just … there’s other things to fight for, mebbe. I’d nae thought to, but I’ll admit … I’m startin’ to like this place.’
“‘I’ll bet you are.’
“‘Fuck does that mean?’
“‘It means a blind man could see the way you’re looking at Charlotte. She’s a fine woman, no matter the acid on her tongue or the poison folk spit at her back. But you’ve known her less than a week. You’re a sworn brother of the Silver Order, for fuck’s sake.’
“‘Yer honestly lecturing me about sworn oaths?’
“‘No.’ I put my hand on his shoulder, searched his eyes. ‘I know the wanting of another’s arms when night grows dark. But I also know how much weight the vows you swore to the Order hold in your heart.’
“‘What Order?’ he scoffed. ‘Our abbot is slain. Monastery gutted. Hell, after the slaughter yer brother and his fuckin’ master waged in Maergenn, I’ll wager there’s nae more than a handful of ’saints left in the whole damned empire.’
“I gritted my teeth, knowing he was right. The holy brotherhood I’d been part of was no more than a memory now. Despite all they’d done to me, to my friends, I was saddened at the thought of their passing. Ashamed at the role I’d played in it.
“‘You still live,’ I told him. ‘You embody all that was good in them, Lachlan.’
“Lachie shook his head, glancing up to the chateau. I could see Charlotte on the battlements now, ocean winds whipping through long dark hair.
“‘Just … I keep thinking on the service last night, like. What that bishop said. Love is the tie that binds us. The anchor that moors us. The wind that allows us to fly.’
“My gaze sharpened, cold whispers echoing in my head.
“‘I’ve never been in love,’ he sighed. ‘Never even kissed a girl, d’ye know that?’
“‘… No. I didn’t.’
“Lachlan pursed his lips, voice gone soft. ‘I know what it is I fight fer, Gabe. What I’d die fer. I just wonder … what now I live fer.’
“‘Only you can answer that question, Lachie. And you only need walk this road as long as you wish to. But I have a king to kill.’
“His gaze dropped, and he breathed deep. I could see the pain in him. The values that bound him: loyalty, faith, honor. But he was still a young man, my old ’prentice. A whole life ahead if he chose it. That was a great deal to give up for brotherhood.
“Lachlan looked to my cousin, stood upon the battlements. To my surprise, Charlotte slowly raised her hand to him in greeting. But Lachie nodded, squaring his jaw.
“Ever the man I’d raised him to be.
“‘Let’s be about yer blade.’
“He turned his back on the chateau, trudging down the cliffroad with tattooed hands clasped behind. I lingered a moment, staring up at my cousin. My thoughts were atumble, but I kept them well behind my teeth as I rejoined my brother, trekking side by side to the port town below. Through the bustling markets, past Le D?me and the beautiful Angel Way. Commonfolk bowed, messieurs wishing me fairdawning, mesdames asking for my blessing. Again, my grandfather’s offer swum to my mind, and unbidden, I found myself wondering what it might be like to stake claim here.
To tend the fire ma famille had lit, burning in the sea of darkness this empire had become.
“Love is forgiveness. Love is acceptance.
“I have a king to kill.
“La Forge de San Javon was busy as we arrived, ’prentices stoking flames, journeymen working with hammer and tong, the hymn of iron in the air.
I’d not taken time to appreciate the genius of this place when I visited yesterday, and studying it now, I found it the marvel Baptiste had declared.
Its design was altogether arcane; a great series of burning maws and hissing bellows and a vast snaking nest of pipes.
Breastplates and blades hung on the walls, etched with filigree and roaring lions.
Great racks of those wondrous mechwork crossbows lined the walls, scripture etched around their iron sights.
There’s little uglier in this world than war, coldblood, but there can still be beauty in its instruments.
Yet looking about at the marvel that was La Forge de San Javon, I couldn’t see its master.
“‘A moment, garcon?’
“The ’prentice’s eyes went wide as I spoke, and he wiped a grimy hand on his apron before offering it. ‘The Black Lion … An honor, Chevalier.’
“‘Merci. But pray, where is your Master Cortez?’
“‘I…’ The lad frowned, looking around the hammering din. ‘He and M. Baptiste were here a moment ago. You might try the storeroom out back?’
“Lachie nodded thanks, and we made our way through the foundry, dodging scurrying ’prentices, breathing in the boiling scent of coal and coke.
Double doors parted before us, and I led Lachlan through to a large stone building at the foundry’s rear, blessedly cool after that stifling heat.
We heard murmuring ahead, making our way past sacks of ore, crates of gear, racks of tools.
And far at the warehouse’s rear, amid cool shadows and old cobwebs, we found Baptiste and Cortez.
“Wrapped in each other’s arms.
“The sight was a punch to my chest, my stomach dropping into my boots. I was reminded of the night I’d discovered Aaron and Baptiste in the San Michon Armory, kissing in the light of the forge.
Cortez and Baptiste were kissing too, bodies entwined, skin to burning skin.
Baptiste’s shirt was cast aside, britches unbound, the forgemaster’s hands plunged within.
Their mouths were one, their passions flame, Cortez gasping as Baptiste dragged him back by the scruff, forcing the smaller man to his knees.
Cortez pressed his mouth to Baptiste’s leathers now, kisses rising up, up toward—
“‘We interrupting?’
“The pair startled as Lachlan spoke, Cortez rising to his feet and staggering back. Baptiste was aghast, eyes wide, face bloodless, lips parted in shock.
“‘Lachlan,’ he whispered. ‘Gabriel…’
“Cortez looked chagrined, casting about for some escape as I hissed.
“‘Hard at work on Ashdrinker, Forgemaster? All your skill brought to bear?’
“‘I … I beg pardon, Chevalier.’ His dark eyes met mine, knuckles dragged across stubble-burned lips. ‘Forgive me, I … I should return to my forge.’
“‘What for?’ Lachlan scoffed. ‘Heat enough in here aready by the look.’
“‘Get out of here, Lachlan,’ I growled, eyes on Baptiste. ‘I’ll meet you up at the chateau later. We need to talk.’
“Lachlan smirked, looking Baptiste up and down. ‘We’re not the only ones.’
“I grabbed his arm as he turned to leave. ‘Keep this to yourself, you hear? Not a fucking word to anyone. Especially Aaron.’
“Lachie raised a hand, half solemn, half delighted. ‘Saint’s honor, like.’
“I scowled as my old ’prentice spun on his heel, winking farewell to Baptiste.
Cortez took his leave, hurrying past my glower with tail tucked firmly between his legs.
With a mouthful of mumbled nonsense, Baptiste made to follow, held up short by my hand on his arm.
I waited until we were alone, rebuke seething behind my teeth all the while.
“‘Baptiste, what the fuck are you doing?’
“‘I…’ He clenched his jaw, not meeting my eyes. ‘It’s not how it looks, Gabe…’
“‘Then how is it? You’re supposed to be down here mending Ashdrinker and instead…’ I gritted my teeth, searching for the words. ‘Fuckssakes, Baptiste, Aaron is up there sleeping in horseshit, and you’re down here saddling up another man!’
“‘Mind your own affairs, Gabriel.’
“‘This is my affair! You’re my friends! I watched you and Aaron give up everything! Defying the Church, the Order, all you had just to be together! And in a world rotted halfway to hell, your love was the one thing I knew would endure through it all!’
“‘You still believe that?’ he scoffed. ‘What do you think will happen to our love when I’m fifty, Gabriel? When I’m seventy? You think he’ll love me then?’
“I clenched my jaw, my voice softening as his shot hit home. ‘No man knows what comes amorrow, brother. All I know for certain is Aaron loves you now.’
“‘And this is how he shows it?’
“Baptiste broke free of my grip, turning with a snarl and punching the wall so hard his knuckles split. The blade-bright scent of blood stabbed the air, the beast suddenly snaking up from my dark, poised but one shivering breath behind its bars.
“‘He’ll not touch me, Gabriel! Do you understand what that’s like?’
“I took one step back, belly rolling as that red scent kissed the air, tongue sticking to my teeth. ‘I understand any refusal Aaron makes of you comes not from a dearth of love, but abundance of it. Fuckssakes, don’t you see? He doesn’t want to hurt you!’
“‘I see my own husband looks at me like I am poison, and he but one sip from hell!’
“‘Aaron is in hell! I know the heat of those flames all too well!’
“Baptiste breathed deep, goosebumps prickling over his skin now. And fixing me with eyes gone dark as sin, he whispered into the blood-stung air.
“‘I know you do.’
“He stepped forward, pupils so swollen they near swallowed his eyes. And licking at dry lips, he lifted his hand, bright crimson across his knuckles, dripping from his fingertips.
“‘You need not burn alone, Gabriel.’
“I recoiled, knives of cold dread sinking into my belly.
“‘… What the fuck are you saying?’
“‘Just a little, Gabe,’ Baptiste pleaded, trembling. ‘Just one bite.’
“‘This isn’t you, Baptiste.’ I looked at him aghast, heart thundering. ‘Seven fucking Martyrs, this isn’t you. I know you and Aaron are having troubles, but this isn’t the answer. He needs your strength, now more than ever!’
“‘God help me, I’ve tried! I’ve prayed God to take this cup from me, but I can’t forget the bliss of that Kiss! Aaron claims it a sin, just as the silver brothers once did! But I say no sin is love! No sin can come of it, for no evil can be born of that which is divine!’
“Those words struck me, in truth and familiarity—the homily Santiago had spoken just last night, echoing again in my skull.
I could recall drinking from my Astrid; endless nights of blood and fire in our bed, the love between us writ deepest red.
But I shook my head to clear it, teeth sharp against my tongue as I tore my eyes from his bloody hand.
“‘Get back to work, Baptiste. Never speak to me of this again. I want Ashdrinker whole and us gone from this cursed place by weeksend, you fucking hear me?’
“He stared a moment longer, that awful, hellborn desire burning in his eyes.
“‘… I hear you.’
“I near fled the warehouse, dragging out my pipe as I burst back into the foundry.
I spared a glower for M. Cortez as I passed, but he refused to meet my eyes.
I saw Ash laid on his workbench, starsteel gleaming red in the forgelight.
But the sweat, the heat, the scent of all those bodies filled my lungs, and I staggered into the street, striking my flintbox and dragging a bowlful into my burning lungs.
“The sacrament washed over me, water-thin and weak, the smoke I breathed near emerging as a sob. A mother brushed past me, her scent like a gaff hook in my belly, the boy who walked at her side looking up into my eyes and quavering at the thing he saw there. I’d never felt so close to the precipice, screwing my eyes shut against the sight of the folk around me, the tempest of their heartbeats, the images flooding my mindseye; heads torn from necks, throats ripped wide, bathing myself in that blessed red flood.
“And then the bells began to sing.
“I opened my eyes, found myself on my knees, looking across the thoroughfare toward the song.
I saw graceful spires rising above tumbled rooftops, ringing in the hour before duskmass.
The sky was daysdeath dark; a great pall flung across the heavens and smothering the light.
But the sinking sun was eclipsed behind Le D?me now, and it seemed the cathedral was wreathed in a halo of flame as those bells tolled across the city.
Amid their song, I fancied I heard that voice again, not one but a multitude, ringing in the thirst-scorched halls of my heart.
“Love is the cure for all suffering.
“The balm for all pain.
“The answer to every question worth asking.
“And I knew then, where all of this led. Dragging myself to my feet and one shaking hand across my cracking lips, eyes on those spires that stabbed at heaven.
“‘Time for church.’”