Page 33 of The Lost Reliquary
At their command, we follow. In their light, we are seen… we are judged…
I want to chew every word to a pulp and spit it onto the street with the dirt and horse shit.
May their blessed flame find purity of faith, or else leave cinder and ash.
“Many years have passed since that joyous day,” Caius continues, when the voices have settled, “and our city continues to burn brightly under their blessings. But there are still those who deny our Goddess’s enduring supremacy, worshipping gods long dead.”
The crowd boos.
Caius again gestures for them to quiet. “Under the Goddess’s light, the devoted must not suffer a heretic to live. But in their mercy, they do not pass sentence on one who might be saved through penance. They do not punish without first rendering judgement.” He turns to the woman and rips the burlap cover from her face.
I tighten. The woman with the muddy-water hair. Her face is red and puffy from crying, and unsurprisingly, she is gagged. Wouldn’t want any truth to ruin Caius’s stage show.
“With the authority of Tempestra-Innara,” says Caius, “I will now gaze into this woman’s heart, to see if she bears any true love for our Goddess that might buy her mercy. Or, if as accused, she is a true heretic.”
From a pocket, he produces a small bottle of sapphire-blue glass. I’ve seen such vessels before, but rarely. They hold the potion the Arbiters use in their judging, a carefully guarded recipe known only to the most senior of their Order. With an absurd flourish, Caius unstops the bottle. He raises it, allowing a single drop of the liquid to fall into each eye, then blinks. Even at a distance, the new sheen is apparent.
The Judge’s Sight. An Arbiter’s bread and butter.
Caius turns to the woman and reaches for her, fingers alighting on her cheek, a gesture that appears almost loving. Her features go blank.
“Lys.” Nolan speaks so that only I can hear him. “You don’t have to watch this.”
As riveted as I am, the sensation of his hand on my arm rises in memory. A touch of genuine concern. His words are an echo of that,but I can’t look at him. Can’t see if there’s even a hint of acceptance for this twisted ritual on his face. At least he knows it’s a sham. I cling to that. Then again, if he saw the truth ofmyheart, Nolan would probably tie me to the post himself… a fact that bothers me more than I like.
I keep my eyes on the stage. “Yes, I do.”
An anxious minute crawls by, during which whatever is happening before us begins to bleed its way over the crowd. It comes on like an itch, an ache, causing the onlookers to shift and mutter, though I cannot pinpoint any specific sensation. Meanwhile, the judged woman begins to tremble, and then shake, though Caius remains as still as a statue. Life returns to her eyes, which widen with pure horror as her mouth stretches in a desperate, soundless scream. Finally, his hand drops. In the same instant, the woman releases a pained, guttural cry, her whole body going limp with the exertion of the ritual.
Caius spins to the crowd, face flush. “My evaluation is complete.” He stabs a finger accusingly. “This woman holds no love for our Goddess, only fear and resentment. She is a true heretic. Therefore, she must suffer a heretic’s fate!”
The crowd cheers as if the announcement were ever in doubt. There are exclamations of love and devotion for the Goddess, as well as jeers for the bound woman. Caius indulges the crowd’s ferocity a bit longer before turning back. He doesn’t need to ask for silence this time. A thousand people collectively take a breath and hold it.
We’ve reached the moment.
Caius cups his hands together. Then, the divine flame bursts to life with a brilliance that seems impossible in the light of day. He holds it, almost cradles it, before stepping toward the condemned. As he does, pure animalistic fear overtakes the woman. She fights her bindings, emanating a sound that sinks claws into my guts and twists. All futile. As soon as Caius touches the flame to her chest, right above her heart, it moves quickly, racing down her torso, climbing up over her shoulders. The Arbiter’s control is spent—the flame is its own creature now, one that knows only a hungry spread. But this is no divine execution. What Caius calls is only an offshoot of the Goddess’s. Less pure, less powerful.
Which means it takes a very long time for the woman to die.
Her screams begin immediately, though. The gag flakes away like paper, freeing the sounds further, and I have to grit my teeth to keep myself from looking away. This is what I needed to see, to witness.Iwas the one who sent this woman to her fate. I owe her something, if only that I will have to carry this memory until the day I die.
Leave.My thoughts screech as the scent of burning flesh reaches me, as I hear the greasy crackle of her fat.Go.
I stay right where I am.
Meanwhile, Caius stands back with an appropriately pious expression, hands folded before him. I sense he’s practically bursting with satisfaction, a suspicion that is confirmed when his gaze deliberately finds mine. I keep my expression neutral. Let him think he’s gotten the best of me, of us. And maybe he has.
But I know how to kill his goddess.
And if I succeed, his line—our line—ends. No more Arbiter’s judgement, no more divine flame.
Maybe he’d still be able to keep power. Someone always does. Still, I allow myself the fantasy of him tied to that post instead of the woman, of him screaming instead of her.
Finally, the woman’s cries cease, but Caius remains staring at me. Raising my hand slowly, I flash him a rude gesture, before yanking Mortimer around and heading for the city gates. Nolan follows.
Behind us, the bells begin to cry again.
Sixteen
