Chapter 16 #3
It still felt awkward when Sir Adalbrand found his place between me and the High Saint.
He didn’t look at me. Didn’t touch me. His hand was on top of the High Saint’s and his other reached over and clasped Hefertus’s forearm, his wrist brace barely brushed mine, and yet I felt his nearness like one feels a fire near. It was impossible to ignore.
We said the benediction together, in unison.
And for those moments that our lips moved as one and our bodies were joined by touch and intention — for those moments — I felt like I was a part of something bigger, greater, deeper than I was on my own.
For those moments, I felt more like a paladin than I had since I kept vigil.
It bound me to these others, knit us to each other in hope and faith.
And when the words were spoken, the God entreated, our duty — but also our gift — imparted, we broke apart. The gaze of the High Saint grazed mine and for a moment there was a ghost of a smile on his lips, as if all had been forgotten.
I did not find forgiveness so accessible.
“We made stew,” Sir Sorken said, enunciating the word “stew” like he was making a grand announcement. “I hope you like mushrooms. The ruin is full of them and Cleft has a surprisingly deft touch.”
We ate mushroom stew and drank tea in a strange attitude — a kind of mix of gentle grief over the Seer combined with an almost jubilant relief — the kind you feel when the end of a difficult job is finally over and you can rest.
The High Saint whispered a quiet word to Adalbrand, and when he went to get his bowl of stew, his limp was gone and Adalbrand’s was worse.
I couldn’t have explained why that rubbed me the wrong way.
Perhaps it was unreasonable to expect the paladin sworn to me to keep his healing from the one who hurt me so.
Particularly unreasonable since you intend to abandon him in the morning.
Ouch.
The Majester explained what had happened down below to the Engineers with the air of one giving a military report.
“Bad circumstance,” Sir Coriand said. “Very sad. We should sort through the Seer’s things. Send anything personal on to her family.”
“Did she have a family?” the Majester asked.
Everyone shrugged.
I felt my throat carefully and tried not to look at the others. No weakness. No give. If they saw me so much as flinch, another of them might take a swipe at me.
“Everyone has a family,” Sir Coriand said. “Originally.”
I tried hard not to think of mine.
“What’s it like down there?” Sir Coriand asked. “A proper monastery?”
The Majester produced his map and we all pored over it.
“Strange architecture,” Sir Sorken had said. “More like a house of learning than a house of faith.”
“More like a house of sin,” the High Saint said acerbically.
“Do you really think so?” Sir Coriand asked. There was a note to his voice that made it hard to tell if he were serious or teasing. “I was in a house of sin once. It didn’t quite have this architecture.”
The High Saint sighed as if unwilling to concede that he could be wrong.
“And the cup?” Sir Sorken asked. “Any sign of it?”
The Majester produced his sack and dumped it out beside the fire. With a grunt, Hefertus began to line the cups up from tallest to shortest.
“Interesting,” Sir Sorken said, studying them grimly, though what he saw, I couldn’t have guessed.
To me, they just looked like cups. None of them more or less likely to be a prized Cup of Tears.
None of them had the cabochon blue gems. But did the cup really have that, or was it mere fancy?
How accurate were records a thousand years old?
I didn’t really care anymore anyway. After we buried the Seer, I would be gone. Another leaf drifting on the winds.
Oh dear. This is one of the things I neglected to tell you.
“Will you go down again tomorrow?” Sir Coriand asked gently.
He was treating us like … survivors, I realized.
The same kind tones, the same interest in trivial things to keep us occupied.
The same nonjudgmental way of asking without prying.
I’d done this myself. Young as I was, it still made people trust me, listen to me, tell me things.
It felt unnerving to have someone using it on me.
Sir Branson had never done that. He’d always left me to make my own judgments and find my own comfort.
“We all must,” the High Saint said grimly. I saw him flicking through the beads of his rosary as if on instinct. “For the Seer.”
Yes, that’s the part I forgot to mention. Once Sir Kodelai began his ceremonial prayers and beseechings, well … you can’t leave before he passes judgment. It’s a law of a sort.
If I broke it, would they take away the paladincy?
Yes.
It may still be worth it.
They’d also torture you to death. Slowly.
That would not be worth it. Fine, so I’d wait for the Seer to be buried and also for the judgment to be made. He’d said he’d do them both at once. Mayhap it wouldn’t take very long.
The High Saint looked up, his face a mix of grim concern and smugness he couldn’t quite hide.
“You Engineers will have to come, too. Do not fear. You get back what you have to give to the door when you come back up again.”
“Are you certain of that?” Sir Coriand asked lightly.
“The Inquisitor has his hand back,” the High Saint said, pointing at the hand with which the Inquisitor was holding his bowl of stew.
We all stared at it grimly.
“And will you offer up the same sin again, I wonder?” Sir Sorken asked.
“What?”
“You confessed to pride on the way in. Will you choose a different sin next time?”
“I hadn’t … I hadn’t thought.”
The High Saint’s eyes met mine and I looked away. I didn’t want to see into his soul. I didn’t like the look of shame in his eyes. I wanted to go back to the moment where we were all in unity praying over Sir Kodelai.
“I need to get water,” I murmured. My voice was rough from being choked, but I couldn’t help that. I stood, gathering up my dishes.
“What did you lose when you went through?” Sir Sorken pressed as I left the fire.
“My confidence.” The High Saint sounded agitated.
“So it stands to reason that if you want to keep your confidence, then you should offer something else. Greed, perhaps.”
“That’s no sin of mine.”
If they landed on an accurate sin, I was too far away to hear it.
I made my way to the stream, checked on Halberd and cared for him, washed my dishes, and was refilling my water skin when I heard the drift of voices.
It was only then — for some reason — that I remembered my promise.
In the chaos of having to defend myself, in the relief of returning to the land above, in the pain of my bruised throat, I’d forgotten it entirely. It stung as I remembered my words to Sir Adalbrand. Words that meant I couldn’t just abandon him.
Oh, I forgot, too. Sir Branson sounded ashamed of himself.
The demon only laughed.
I had promised Sir Adalbrand that I would work hand in hand with him until the cup was found and returned to the church.
I couldn’t just get up and go. Not now.
Saints bless it. What my curse lacked in originality, it made up for in sincerity.
The mere thought of returning to that place under the ground made my skin crawl and my stomach try to worm its way out of my mouth. I had not wanted to go back for Sir Kodelai’s judgment. I certainly didn’t want to go back for any longer than that.
Perhaps I could convince him that we could keep our vow without going back down there.
I wish you the God’s blessing with that.
Thank you, Sir Branson.
The demon’s laughter told me I’d guessed wrong again.
The voices grew louder and now I could distinguish words.
“ … with us.”
“Cramped enough in there already,” Hefertus complained.
“You saw how the High Saint was looking at her. And the first victim was a woman. It stands to reason that if her killer strikes again, he might go after the other woman here.”
That was Adalbrand. He sounded thoughtful, though why he was worried about me was a bit of a puzzle. I’d held my own down in that monastery. Against two opponents at once.
The man is a knight. Will you truly deny him the right of chivalry?
I glanced over to Brindle, who looked up from lapping water innocently.
Perhaps you feel like you need to prove yourself, but you really don’t. That’s a desire that can only lead to trouble. People who need to prove how independent or strong they are … well, my girl, those are the weakest people in the room.
“I find it strange that you think whatever killed the Seer might harm the Beggar. Whatever killed her, I would guess it was most likely due to her insight. So what did she know that we don’t?” Hefertus’s voice grew nearer.
“The future.”
“Ha. Yes. But what else?”
Adalbrand shrugged, but he looked thoughtful. I’d pay my last coin to know what he was thinking.
It’s copper. I doubt he’d take it.
“I should also remind you that it’s unseemly for you to invite a lady into your tent,” Hefertus said, but now it sounded like he was teasing. “People will talk.”
“I’m sure you can manage to chaperone.”
“Oh, it’s not you that I’m worried about, my friend. A hot-blooded woman like that? Who knows what she might do in the darkness.”
“I wouldn’t get too excited, Hefertus. If I had to guess, I’d say she will likely sleep, or failing that, she may plant a dagger in one of our throats. As yours is by far the prettier, I will pray for your sake that it remains whole.”
Hefertus was still laughing when they turned the corner around the ruined masonry and saw me there, squatting over the stream, filling my water skins, likely looking as wild as a creature of the forest.
The hitch in Adalbrand’s breath told me I did look like a threat. Good. These two shouldn’t underestimate me. I had two knives. That was enough to put one in each of their throats.