Page 25 of The Lost Reliquary
I scanned the instruments offered, each of which I’d used before. By then, drawing blood was nothing, a daily occurrence in our training. But I’d never taken a life.
I had, however, watched lives taken. Many of them, most notably on a morning nearly as icy as this, and it was that memory that rooted me in place so long that the first prisoner was dead before I realized we’d gotten started. It was Morgan, of course, a consummate suck-up even then. No spears yet—on that morning she chose a short sword and drove it through a prisoner’s heart to the hilt. The other condemned whimpered, one even began to cry, but there were no illusions of hope. One by one, the other Potentiates of the Dawn Cloister killed them, until only a single prisoner was left.
It was the one who’d glared with such hate, left all for me.
I still didn’t move. I’d gone completely cold in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature, my ears filled with a thick, rushing sound. Only when Prior Petronilla shuffled impatiently did my fugue crack. Memory had dragged me deep, but survival’s roots went deeper. I went to the table and grabbed the first weapon I saw—a sickle. Then I returned to the prisoner. His heart was thumping so hard I could see it beneath the wasted flesh of his chest. But still, that insolent stare. I was glad to see it.
Even if it changed nothing.
One swing, and it was over. I stared as the blood pooled at my feet, mingling with what was already there, expecting something. A new understanding, a change within myself.
Instead, there was only a familiar sensation. One that chased away the cold entirely. I looked up, unsurprised to find that the Goddess had appeared, a smile on their face as they surveyed their Chosen’s grim handiwork. It was a smile that blessed the completion of our lesson. A smile that blessed our ruthless decisiveness.
A smile that I couldn’t stop myself from returning.
Nolan gently moves Magda aside, leaning her body against the wall, then stands. It’s too quiet suddenly, the beat of her heart silenced. She doesn’t look asleep. There’s no peace in her face. She simply looks dead, a living, breathing creature full of misguided faith one minute, a sack of meat and bone the next.
Still, better this fate than the one awaiting her.
Nolan appears tired, but determined. I wait for him to say something about my little confession, even chastise me for my past heresy. But he holds his tongue.
“Next stop, Novena?”
He only nods.
“What have youdone?”
Behind us, Caius stands in the door of the cell, looking as if we’ve smashed a prized toy.
Nolan’s expression shifts, turning from fatigue to indifference. “What we needed to do in order to get the information we required.”
“You denied the Goddess their justice. This woman was to be purified tomorrow, before the eyes of the city.”
“She needed to be interrogated,” Nolan says calmly. “In a better manner, apparently, than before.”
Caius’s eyes narrow. “What did she say? Whatever it was, it was likely a lie. Especially if this is the trade you offered her.”
Nolan shrugs. “If it is, we’ve no less information than before.”
“What did she say?”
Nolan doesn’t flinch. “The Goddess has entrusted us to handle this matter with discretion, including among our blood brethren.”
Caius isnothappy to be denied. “No matter what you learned, this is an affront to the Goddess. Andyouwill have to pay the price for it.”
Nolan’s gaze darkens in a way I don’t like. I step between the pair. “Hey! Enough. You’re fighting over a corpse.” I face Caius. “You can still purify her for the festival. It’ll be more like a barbecue than an execution now, sure, but you’ll get your show either way.” That doesn’t seem to assuage him, but it’s all I’ve got. “Sorry, but we did what was needed. We’re all serving the Goddess here.”
Playing diplomat is the last thing in the world I’m used to doing, but the reminder does the trick.
The anger fades from Caius’s features, replaced with a practiced calm. “Yes, of course we are. But Arbiter Gottschalk is not going to be pleased.”
“Then tell him to reread our letter again,” says Nolan. “And if he’s still feeling vexed, he can go to the Cathedral and bring it up with Tempestra-Innara themselves. But trust me, I can tell you right now how that will go.”
Caius considers him coolly. Then: “You are under the orders of our blood mother, and their will takes precedence above all else. Please forgive my loss of temper. This prisoner was under my charge, and sometimes it is hard to see beyond one’s own responsibilities.”
The air around us settles.
“Apology accepted,” I say, before Nolan can stir things up again. That’smyarea of expertise. “And you’ll be rid of us soon enough.”
