Chapter 36 | Sephania #2
“And the Silverknights—the True’s destined fighters.” He nods diligently, like it’s been rehearsed and he doesn’t believe himself. “All are welcome in my flock.” He makes the sign of the True over his heart and forehead.
I don’t care if he believes himself or not. I don’t need to agree or like anything about the man. I just need to use him to suit my purposes.
“That means you can help us pass out the greatest weapon we have. And now with the gates separating Nuhav and Olhav lowered, we can use the damned thing much easier. We have leverage on Aramastun Wyvox—not important who that is right now—and can fool him when he thinks he’s fooled us.”
“What is this weapon?” Rirth asks. “What’s the ‘damned thing’ you’re talking about?”
I reach into my tunic and presents four vials of Silverblood, setting each one down on the table in front of the men. They stare at the cloudy red substance with confusion.
“We call it Silverblood,” I say proudly, sitting up. “It’s been mixed and tested over months, and we finally have a working formula.”
“Working . . . to do what?” Vanison drawls, picking up the tincture, tapping the glass with a finger, and rolling it around over his head to look at it from every angle.
I lean forward conspiratorially, my hands a steeple on the peeling table. “When someone who is bloodbonded to a vampire—a thrall, a human, a dhampir, even another vampire—imbibes this concoction, the bond they share, that connection, will be severed.” I slice my hand through the air.
Everyone stares blankly at me. I think I’ve forgotten that I know much more about vampires than the rest of the people here, given who I’ve been dallying with.
I let out a frustrated sigh, trying to think of easier terms they can understand.
Turning to Cullard, I say, “It’s an elixir the True themselves would be proud of, Archpriest. It brings humanity back into the decayed, blackened hearts of vampires.
It destroys vampirism. This is how we bring Nuhav to its former glory, before the infestation of vampires ever corrupted our mountains. ”
Cullard’s eyes get wide as saucers, like he’s seeing a holy spirit right before his eyes. He looks down at the vial with new reverence.
Rirth isn’t sold. The captain grunts, tossing his chin past me. “Have you tried it on your own bloodsuckers, woman?”
I sit up straight, nodding primly. “I have.”
“And?”
Garroway speaks for the group. “Can practically feel the tender blush of humanity on my cheeks even as we speak, lad.” His voice is muted, even sardonic, but these men don’t need to know what Garro’s personality is like.
His words are enough to make Rirth let out a hum and stare down at the vial with a bit more curiosity.
Vanison says, “What about the fucking silver? We need weapons against the Buvers when this shit goes sideways and doesn’t work.”
“It does work,” I assure.
“Still.” Rirth clears his throat. “The silversmith isn’t wrong. Even as my military swells in numbers, our weapon stocks diminish. We don’t have enough silver blades to go around. We still need to protect ourselves, Sephania, even with your magicked little elixir here.”
“I can help you there, too,” I quip.
“How?” Rirth tilts his head, crossing his arms, leaning back. Like he’s entering negotiation mode.
“Leave that to me. I can get you great chunks of the fucking stuff.”
He blinks. It’s a sign of the cogs turning in his head. Then he speaks formally, putting his hand out halfway across the table. “Show me you can get the Silverknights a good bundle of ore, and I’ll go along with your little scheme here.”
I reach out and shake his hand. “Deal.” My head turns. “The rest of you?”
Cullard says, “How do we administer this liquid?”
“Rub it onto blades,” I say, recalling my mother’s words, which at the time I found vile.
I jut my chin toward the Silverknights standing guard behind Rirth.
“Make each wound hurt far worse against our bloody enemies. Pour it into salves and drinking mugs.” At this suggestion I glance to Antones—who knows many of the barkeeps in town—and Vanison.
“Get the servants of the wicked to betray their masters,” I tell Cullard, “and do our job for us. Before long, Olhav will be a ship without a sail, with the vampires turning against each other. Slave against master. A story as old as time.”
Father Cullard smiles at me. It turns into something cruel just for a second. A sign of the true man behind the True cloth. Then his eyes flicker left, brow creasing—
And the front door swings open, banging on its hinges. Everyone spins. My mates draw their weapons in a flash as heavy boots pound on the rickety floorboards.
Brass-colored armor comes into view, glinting in the murky lantern light. I gasp, standing from the table, hands on my swords.
“Wait,” Rirth commands. He’s the only one who hasn’t spun in shock at the new arrivals.
Bronzemen shuffle in, filling the space with nearly a dozen of the bastards.
I twirl on Rirth, hissing and baring my teeth. “You betrayed us.”
“No.” Rirth stands. He nods his chin, and one of the Bronzes marches forward, dressed in full regalia with closed helmet, halberd, bulky cuirass, the whole uniform.
I’m utterly confused. Before this moment, Rirth was the hated enemy of these lawmen, and so was I.
“I betrayed him,” Rirth explains, nodding his chin to the long-haired man sitting before him.
All eyes fall on Vanison Shirin.
The silversmith’s mouth falls open and he leaps from his chair, knocking it down to the ground.
The lead Bronzeman pulls out a scroll and speaks in a muffled voice through the visor of his helmet. “Vanison Shirin, for acts against Nuhavians, and for selling illegal substances through the catacombs via illicit trading networks, you are hereby under arrest. Take him.”
Two soldiers shuffle over, their armor clanking and clattering absurdly as they surround Vanison. The man looks panicked, eyes darting like he’s going to make a run for it through a window. There are too many bodies in his way, no matter which way he looks.
Vanison glares at Rirth as Bronzemen pull his wrists behind his back. “How could you?” he rasps. “I’ve only ever helped the Silverknights!”
“Aye, and we thank you for your service,” Rirth says coldly. I have to agree, this turnabout is throwing me. Rirth just spoke about working with Vanison.
I realize in that moment how much my old friend has changed. Fear skitters across my nape. My mother was right. No one has reined him in.
“However,” Captain Rirth continues, “an agreement for your surrender and arrest was needed to quell the unrest between my people and the Bronzes. You’ve been an outlaw in Nuhav for nearly a decade, Vanison.
You had a good run. You had to know only the gallows awaited you, yes?
Whether today or next year, your life was forfeit the moment you first touched silver and started selling it to anyone with enough coin. ”
“Silver has flooded this city, you vagabond!” Vanison shouts, his face red, veins distending along his neck. The Bronzes begin to drag him away. “How are you any different?!”
Rirth claps Cullard on the shoulder, who looks just as confused and distraught as I am at this interruption. “We have the Truehearts on our side.”
“Sephania! Antones! Help me!” Vanison screeches. He struggles against his captors, flailing and failing.
I look back and see my mates shaking their heads.
I make no move to stop this from happening, even though it hurts to see. It feels cowardly. My plan was never to betray anyone coming here. Rirth cooked up some side schemes of his own.
Skartovius looks particularly vexed, yet doesn’t budge as the Bronzes push Vanison out of the stronghold, leaving just as quickly as they barged in.
Rirth plops down on his chair with a sigh once Vanison is gone. “The truth is, Vanison Shirin has become obsolete.” He gives me a crooked smile. “You just told us you can procure huge bags of silver.”
I gulp, nodding swiftly.
“Then it’s settled. The Bronzes are in unity with the Silverknights, just like you asked.
They wanted a figurehead for the city’s rebellion, a scapegoat they can hang from the gallows to show they’re on the public’s side.
They’ve found one.” The other side of his lips tilt, and he raises his hand, spreading his fingers wide.
“Will that suffice for peacekeeping, Sephania?”