1. In Reckoning #3
It took everything not to snap something back Resh would have regretted. This was Shu’Khan. There was no reasoning with his brother, especially not when he looked so pleased with himself.
“Where is the Sokar?” Resh asked again.
Shu’Khan’s finger stroked his lips thoughtfully. “We imagine she is in the Lattice somewhere, studying a recent discovery. An unknowable thing. Impossible to tame. A matter of time, perhaps. We have yet to encounter a creature beyond breaking."
Vargrún rose to that challenge, his voice burning into Resh's nape like a brand.
Not if I break her first. You will let me try, won't you, Iridias? I do want to taste her…
Resh clenched his jaw. He focused on the steady beating of his false heart. The hard marble beneath his boots. The way the room breathed with the magic of the Polis, still charged bright from the morning Litany.
Her duty.
Your voice reached these walls, my starlight. I will find you, and I will kneel for the rest of my days if it means you will forgive me.
Shu'Khan watched him. Hawk-like. Sharp as living steel. Through Resh’s defenses, through his centuries-old armor—his brother saw everything.
“We shall say it again,” he drawled. “Your Sokar is unruly.
She was never meant to be more than a decoration on an altar.
Something for the People to look up to. Something to give them hope and keep their minds from straying.
But she was not cut from such cloth." He made a sound of displeasure. "She seeks to have a voice at Council."
"By law, she is allowed," Resh insisted.
Shu'Khan glanced at him. "She is allowed to bow to Doctrine. To echo the voices of her betters. Not to sneak in the Umbral Archives and study forbidden magic. Not to challenge laws and speak out against them."
"By my choice, she is Sokar. By the blood I gave in the Rite, she is Holy Blood," Resh said. "She bows to no one."
"And that is the complication, is it not?
" Shu'Khan looked him up and down. "The magic of the Rite of Scars was meant to ensure that the Void remains impartial.
Yet here you stand, ready to slit Our throat should We speak ill of her.
Tell Us, Iridias, how is it you broke magic created at the dawn of the Shattering?
How is it that you remember that which should have been lost? "
Resh stared ahead, unwilling to give his brother even a hint at the truth.
"The answer is simple," Shu'Khan continued.
"She is not what she seems, and she has come to break the foundations that have held up this city for millennia." He paused, considering something, then shifted in his seat. "She obeys.” Shu’Khan gestured, hands fluid and slow. “Most of the time. But she is wild beneath it. You feel it, don’t you? We see how her chaos poisons you. How it calls.”
Resh said nothing.
"Iridias, you carry thousands on your back. You bring Us glory. Fight Our battles. You are Ours to wield. However…as Our brother…We do pity you. And so, We shall give you warning. The same one We gave in the Vox Ring when we cut penance into your flesh."
His lips stretched wider, showing gleaming white teeth. "The Void must remain impartial. None may see how you favor that shapeless little creature you have bled to make a goddess.”
Shu’Khan reached down and nudged aside his robe, baring a black mark on his chest, right over his heart.
“A reminder, dear brother. This magic binds Us, but We agreed only to tolerance. We did not agree to your fixation.”
Resh held his neutrality. “She is my consort. It is natural that I ensure the Law is observed. She is owed respect, worship, opulence.”
Shu’Khan readjusted his robe, smoothing it back to perfection.
“She did not attend the ceremony, though it is Law.”
“She is Sokar. She has the right to miss a hollow pageant.”
“She destabilizes you.”
“She is bound to me.”
“And you are bound to Us.” Shu’Khan raised an arm, gesturing to the room. “Your duty is to the Shields. To quell rebellion. To find those who would break this sanctuary We have built and eradicate them.”
He steepled his hands beneath his chin once more.
“You have given your life for this purpose. Done much for this city. It is only by that grace that We agreed to your absurd request.”
Resh shifted his weight between his feet, feeling the floor, letting it steady him.
“The Rite of Scars is an irrevocable part of Doctrine,” he said. “The Sokar’s place is now Law. Even if you disagreed with my request, by sacred Law you are mandated to keep it.”
Shu’Khan’s eyes narrowed. They stared at each other, neither one giving ground. At last, the Emperor’s shoulders relaxed. He sat back in his throne, waving a hand.
“Go to her, then, Iridias. But heed Our warning. The Void is impartial, and should someone witness the Resh’Agar’s distraction, We will have no choice but to remove what draws the Arm’s gaze too far from duty.”
Worry not, Iridias. If the false king should exile her, I will draw her into our madness. She will burn with us in this prison. Safe. Together. All you must do is let me have a taste…