Chapter Thirty-Eight
Thirty-eight
This city is a remote, aching hell. And I have my doubts as to how deep the devotion of its local militia runs. In my opinion, the Goddess’s Chosen have little purpose and less solace here. Which would make it the perfect posting for a rival one desired to see ensconced well out of the way.
—FROM THE PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE OF CLERIC DELO TO HIGH CLERIC OF THE BLOOD SULLIVAS
AN ARBITER. IN CYPRENE.
When that might have last occurred, I have no idea. But given the jeers from the docks that followed Caius’s appearance, it’s been a while.
On the mainland, it would be blasphemy for an Arbiter to be treated with such disrespect; penance would be swift, severe, and put on display.
But Caius seemed to eat up the indignation like a sumptuous dessert, a satisfied smile spreading on his lips as he raised a hand in greeting, even after some brave soul lobbed a gutted fish at the hull of the ship.
The reason for that quickly became clear; dozens of Belspire’s Thorn Guard appeared on deck behind him, fully armored, oozing the same discipline that I remember from our visit.
“They’ve taken the towers,” someone near us growled, “closed the port.”
That triggered new anger, the simmering sense of animosity spreading through the crowd. And understandably. After years of tolerated defiance, the authority of the Goddess had abruptly returned to Cyprene.
The question was: Why?
“If there was anything we needed less right now…” With Hiram bandaged up, Nolan and I have retreated to his suite. “… it’s him.”
“Agreed.” Nolan slumps in his chair. “The timing is… less than ideal.”
“Why is he even here?” I pace one end of the room to the other. “Lumeris wouldn’t have sent him. The Goddess hasn’t sent anyone here in—”
“I sent him a letter.”
The words take a moment to sink in. “You what?”
Nolan sits up straighter, scowling. “A letter. From one of the ports the Squid docked at.”
“I’m sorry…” Frustrated disbelief rises. “Please explain this to me like I’m the idiot here. After how he treated us, you decided to invite him along to Cyprene for… for fun?”
“I didn’t invite him anywhere. But after… after the Renderers… after you told me about the cleric you encountered…” He exhales defeatedly. “Lumeris needed to be informed. The local clergy couldn’t be trusted, but Caius is Chosen. I had no question where his loyalty lay.”
Of course not.
“I sent him a coded letter with the instructions to go to Lumeris himself and inform Prior Yiorgo about Prior Fedic and the Renderers in Sethane. And that we were on a ship named the Squid’s Shadow, continuing on our mission.”
“Great. So, instead of going to Lumeris, he came here,” I snap. “You remember this was a secret mission, right?”
“Caius was already suspicious.”
“Exactly. Enough to track down the Squid, figure out its destination, and pack enough muscle to practically shut the city down.” It was clever, I have to give him that.
Caius didn’t need an army to take Cyprene, just enough soldiers to take the cannon towers, giving them the power to sink any boat that might try to make a run for it.
“I thought he’d jump at the chance to make the report, distinguish himself. I… I underestimated his ambition.”
“And his ego, and his obedience…” I throw my hands up. “Me, you read like a book, but Caius is impossible to predict?”
Nolan’s frown deepens. “He still doesn’t know where we are, or what we’re doing. Right now, I’m more concerned about Marzela and her Salt Sect. You’re sure they won’t find the Renderers’ abominations?”
“Not this year, or next, most likely.” It took a little convincing for Nolan to accept I’ve hidden our best leverage away. Even more to keep him ignorant of where it is. But not as much as I would have expected a few days ago.
“Then we’ll have to rely on their desire for that to overcome any further interest in harming us. And stall long enough for Avery to convince the heretics to deal.”
Right. Avery. Vexation squeezes tighter. There was nothing waiting for us upon returning. How long will a response take? A day? A week? Having removed my jacket to tend to Hiram (my own blood barely rinsed out), I slip it back on and grab my sickles.
Nolan eyes me. “Going somewhere?”
“To let Rion know it’s safe. Better than sitting around here twiddling my thumbs.”
“You shouldn’t go alone.”
I begin to protest, but he’s right about that too. Surprises have been in abundant supply lately.
Even with the Salt priests held temporarily at bay, we take care as we make our way through the streets.
We’re not the only ones. In a matter of hours, Cyprene has shifted into an entirely different place.
There are fewer people out, and those that are huddle in tight groups or in doorways, glancing around with faces full of suspicion, anger… and fear. All because of one Arbiter.
Then again, after seeing the show Caius put on in Belspire, I can’t blame them. This city might be filled with heretics, but they’re also normal people, simply trying to live.
We reach the shop, which is dark and locked, as expected.
No sign of Rion—also expected—but some part of me wanted him to be here, so I could reassure myself the Salt priests hadn’t nabbed him after he left us at the baths.
But he’s not, which means all I’ve got is the hope that wherever he’s gone to hole up, it’s safe.
Thrown by Caius’s arrival, I didn’t think to write a note, but there’s a mud puddle in front of the shop.
I think, then dip a finger in and draw one of the Shadow Cult symbols near the base of the door.
Nolan watches. “What, exactly, is that?”
“Rion will understand.” I straighten.
Nolan grabs my arm.
When I turn, I find we’re no longer alone. Avery stands in an arched doorway, waiting for our attention to turn his way.
He waves us over. “We need to speak.”
“Are your associates satisfied with the sample?” Nolan pours the eagerness on, only some of which is affected.
“Yes.” Avery frowns. “But there won’t be any deal.”
“What?” says Nolan. “Why?”
“The Arbiter.” Avery practically whispers the word, as if afraid to summon Caius by speaking it aloud.
“He’s closed the port, with no explanation as to why he’s here.
But Cyprene has a long memory. When the Chosen come to the city, nothing good follows.
We can’t take any unnecessary risks.” He looks directly at me. “Or make any deals.”
“One Arbiter shouldn’t stand in our way.” Nolan’s disappointment rivals even my own. “Please, you must get them to reconsider. He’s barely arrived. If we move fast, we can settle this before—”
“I’m sorry,” Avery cuts in. Though he’s speaking to Nolan, I know the message is for me. “It’s too dangerous.”
My hands ball into fists. But as much as I want to argue the decision too, I bite my tongue.
“We don’t know his reasons for coming here.” Nolan isn’t ready to give up. “They may be brief. If he were no longer an issue, would you…?”
Avery contemplates this. “We might reconsider,” he says finally. “But for now… I’m sorry.” He steps clear of the alley and disappears.
Nolan slumps against the wall. “Shit.”
Glad you sent that letter now? I resist the urge to speak aloud.
“Go on, say it,” he mutters.
“Say what?”
“Whatever biting condemnation is caught in the back of your throat.”
“Don’t know what you could possibly mean.”
He snickers bitterly.
I claim a bit of wall beside him, tense with defeat.
Every inch of me wants to chase after Avery, but nothing I can say will change anything.
The question now: Is there anything I… we can do?
“So not only is Caius sniffing around, but the heretics we want have cut us off, and there’s no telling how long before the heretics we don’t want are up our butts again. Ideas?”
Nolan stares at the ground, gaze distant as he thinks. Finally, he sighs. “Caius is the obstacle. I don’t think there’s any way around it.”
“Oh, please don’t say it.”
“We need to pay our blood brother a visit.”
The least surprising thing about Caius’s arrival is where he takes up residence: the Silvered Pearl, Cyprene’s most luxurious guesthouse.
Even at night, it glows with finery, six stories of the island’s alabaster marble peppered with arched windows and pillowy clamshells carved into the stone.
Most of the windows are dark, their occupants driven away, and Thorn Guard are posted at every doorway, smudging the guesthouse’s pristine appearance.
“Do you think he’s actually paying?” The narrow alley we’ve crept down is cleaner than any other in the city, nary a bit of refuse or opportunistic rodent in sight. Only shadows. Good cover for a bad idea. “Or did he use his toy soldiers to get what he wanted, like with us?”
“Shhhh.” Between Avery and the Salt priests, and now having to deal with Caius, Nolan is more focused than I’ve seen since Novena. The distance from the Goddess still grips, I’m certain, but clarity of purpose has sharpened him again. “C’mon.”
We climb, dark spiders in a darker night, scaling the guesthouse exterior, making liberal use of the abundant ornamentation.
Four stories up, the ocean wind begins to tug at my hair and clothes.
At five, I make the mistake of glancing down.
My stomach lurches. It’s not that a fall from this height would kill me, but I’m not keen to test out how it would feel.
“Given that everyone was kicked out”—I dig the toe of my boot deeper into a gap—“we really could have taken the stairs.”
Nolan ignores me.