Page 110 of The Lost Reliquary
—JOGUE’S DIARY OF A SUPPLICANT’S TRAVELS(RESTRICTED TEXT)
NEW GODS.IDON’Tthink I’ll sleep, gripped by the idea of them, but I’m startled out of twisted dreams by a pounding knock at my door a few hours after dawn.
It’s Nolan, looking probably as rested as I do. Which is to say, not at all. Mind and body, I feel like one big, living bruise as he pushes into the room, all tense energy. “Good, you’re dressed already.”
After last night’s outing, I never even managed to get my boots off. “Are we going somewhere?”
“We need to go see Caius. Another message”—he holds up a folded piece of paper—“was slipped beneath my door last night.”
Rion works fast. The mysterious appearing notes, Avery’s well-timed comings and goings… it all makes more sense now.
At the Silvered Pearl, Caius eyes the paper skeptically, Ramiro so close he might as well be curled up at the Arbiter’s feet. He glares. I give him a smirk that sends his hand to his sword.
Caius refolds the paper and flicks a hand at the Caerula leader. “Out.” Curt as the command is, Ramiro has apparently been welltrained (or well bought) enough to obey promptly, though not without a last edged look for me. “You’resurethis is from the heretics who attacked our blood mother?”
“Yes.” Earnestness clings to Nolan in a way that unsettles my conscience. It isn’t as easy as I’d like, seeing him set upon on this fool’s errand while still believing what he desires is within reach. Even if I was always going to take the reliquary and run.
Of course, maybe he’s not the only one being played. I pick through the memory of Osiron’s offer, looking for traps or snags, for whatever it is they’re keeping close. It seemed sincere, the chance at freedom being offered… but then again, so does this note.
Dusk, the day of the Arbiter’s departure. Same location. —A
Clean and simple, with only a single requirement yet to be fulfilled: for Caius to get the hell out of Cyprene.
“Theywantto deal with us,” Nolan continues. “When you’re gone—”
“When I’m gone,” Caius echoes sourly. He tosses the note onto the table and leans back in his chair, letting out a sigh. He looks tired. There are dark circles under his eyes, consort to a growing air of irritation. Apparently, the distance from the Goddess is hitting him even faster than it did Nolan and me. Or maybe his fancy feather bed simply isn’t as comfortable as he expected. “One note. One line. And I’m supposed to believe that this is what you’ve been waiting for.”
I scoff. “You expected a gilded invitation delivered on a silk pillow?”
Caius blinks at me with red-limned eyes, unamused. “I expected something more.”
“It’s a where,” says Nolan. “A when. And if you—”
“I have no intention of going anywhere.”
Nolan stiffens. “We had a plan. An agreement. The heretics—”
“Yes,” Caius cuts in. “The heretics.” He sits a little straighter. “Those particular, special heretics, not the common ones you laid at my feet to placate me. Do you think I’m a fool? That I’d been pushed away that easily?”
“I knew it.” Exhaustion and vexation turn my words acid. “We never should have tried to work withhim.”
Caius frowns. “Don’t test me, Lys. The port may be reopened, butmy guard still holds the towers.Iam still the authority in Cyprene right now.”
“Exactly,” says Nolan. “Do you not understand what you’re doing by being here? It’s more than the heretics. Cyprene is placated for the moment, but only because they believe you are leaving soon. How long do you think it will be patient? Before the people decide to push back?” His words tighten, come faster. “The longer you remain in the city, the more likely it is something will go wrong. Something neither you nor we can control.”
The Arbiter merely stares, waiting for him to finish. “Or this foul, cowardly city will do nothing. Because they know the Flame will come for them if they do. A tempting thought—burning Cyprene to the ground would certainly take care of the heretics you seem so determined to handle like porcelain dolls.”
A chill silence falls. Then:
“Caius,” Nolan implores. “Please.”
The sound of that word, the desperation in it… My hand almost moves. Almost deals with the problem of Caius in a definitive, conclusive way. As revolted as I am by Nolan’s casual damning of the Salt priests, even worse is Caius taking away what brutal, but strategic, justification there was for it, making their deaths pointless.
“Let me clarify,” Caius continues. “I understand my power here… and my part. Iamwilling to leave Cyprene… in exchange for one thing.” He speaks to us both, but locks those cold Arbiter eyes with mine. “Tell me what you’re really after.”
Shit.
Nolan and I trade a startled look, one that tells me he’s thinking the same thing I am: that Caius is more perceptive than either of us gave him credit for.
