Page 29 of The Lost Reliquary
Thankfully, the first course arrives: soup. A bowl is placed in front of each of us, including the Princess, who gets her own special servant to help feed it to her. The first spoonful mostly trickles down her chin. After that, I keep my eyes on my food.
The soup—velvety squash drizzled with oil and cream—is delicious, as is the butter-poached fish and sauteed greens we are served for the second course, and the wine the servants pour almost continuously. Caius and Nolan keep up the polite small talk, mostly discussing the upcoming festival: how long it runs for, what sort of non-execution entertainment there will be—topics so dull I almost long for the spectacle of the Princess’s soup eating.
“How is your venison?” Caius contemplates the wine in his glass, as if seeing some vision in its redness. “Delicious, yes?”
“Your cooks should be commended.” Nolan dabs at his lips with a linen napkin. His wine remains untouched.
I drain mine yet again. Prior Petronilla was always stingy with it, and the vintage being poured demonstrates that the local vines remain enviable despite the lack of the Green God’s favor. The warmth of it spreads through me, taking the edge off a dinner I’m increasingly ready to be over.
“It’s a shame you must leave so quickly,” says Gottschalk, tone conveying the exact opposite.
“Definitely.” I affect a yawn. “But orders are orders, and we shouldn’t linger. Speaking of which, we should probably turn in so we can get an early start.”
I start to get up, but Caius signals. “Wait, please. You can’t miss dessert. We’ve arranged for something special for you.”
I couldn’t care less about whatever cake or trifle the Arbiters have had whipped up for us, but we’ve crossed them enough already. If the price of getting what we needed includes suffering through some buttercream frosting, I suppose I can manage a little longer.
I settle in my seat. “Who doesn’t love dessert?”
“Indeed. The Belspire royals have always insisted on a full formalmeal, with all the courses, when they entertain. It’s considered a necessary politeness.” A sly, feline smile touches his lips, then disappears. “We’ve done away with some of the royal formalities, but evenwewould never allow politeness to fall by the wayside. To do so would be to violate the contract between host and guest. And here… well, that’s taken quite seriously. The host shows respect to their guests.” His gaze turns to me. “And the reverse is expected.”
My cheeks burn, the weight of the little tome in my jacket suddenly turning from paper and board to what feels like lead. I’m sorting through explanations and excuses to justify the theft when Caius snaps his fingers.
The doors to the hall open, but instead of servants, more of the Thorn Guard enter, escorting three women in rags. They are herded over to us, burlap bags over their heads to hide their identities. I tense, book forgotten, fingers pressing into the wood of the table, even as I manage to keep outwardly calm. Beside me, Nolan stares at the women with a worrying intensity. I look to Arbiter Gottschalk, but he keeps his gaze downcast and as distant as the Princess’s.
“Not sure what kinds of sweets are popular in Belspire,” I say lightly, worry worming its way through my full stomach, “but I was sort of expecting cake.”
“Don’t you like it?” Caius feigns innocence.
“What isit, exactly?”
“Like I said… dessert.” All of his polite friendliness is gone. “Tomorrow’s festival is an important one. It celebrates the city’s conversion to the ways of our Goddess. But it’s more than that. It must also be a reminder—of what happens to heretics, and anyone else who would cross Tempestra-Innara. But your actions earlier saw fit to deny the people that.”
Nolan sits a little taller, also abandoning the guise of civility. Anger radiates off him. He turns to Arbiter Gottschalk. “This is unacceptable. We did what we needed to fulfill our orders.”
But the senior Arbiter doesn’t look at him either. “I do not object to your actions, as I have been instructed. The remuneration Caius calls for is something else entirely.”
Then he goes back to drinking his wine, at which point I realizesomething very important. Something that Nolan and I should have seen earlier: that despite his clear dissatisfaction with his post, Caius is the real power in Belspire.
“We have orders too,” Caius continues. “The Goddess has entrusteduswith their justice. And it will be had.”
“Knock off the dramatics.” I am heartily regretting agreeing to this dinner. “What do you want?”
“It’s simple. The city will see a heretic brought to the Goddess’s justice. Since you two killed the one slated for that fate, we need a replacement.” Caius gestures to the women. “And you get to choose who that will be.”
Fourteen
The Goddess’s justice must be more than a balancing. More than a price paid. It must be the paragon of their doctrines, a lesson through which the devoted and non-devoted alike learn virtue.
—FROM THE TEACHINGS OF HIGH ARBITER DIETRELIK
IALWAYS SUSPECTEDARBITERS WEREassholes. Now I know it for sure.
One by one, the Thorn Guard yank the burlap hoods from the women, revealing their faces. Weariness monopolizes them, mingled with fear and confusion.
I can sympathize.
“The Goddess demands justice, as do their devoted. Both will have it.” Caius is clearly reveling in his control. “Choose which one will replace the heretic you killed.”
