Page 46 of The Lost Reliquary
Fedic. The name isn’t familiar, but all that tells me is that they are old enough that we didn’t share time at the Cloisters. “Prior Fedic is the Goddess’s hand in Sethane?”
He nods. “But he departed some months ago. I thought perhaps you had come to take up his position.”
“Departed? To where?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know. He left quite abruptly, leaving no word on where he was going or when he might return.” The cleric’s eyes drop once more. “Of course, I would never question the comings and goings of the Chosen. It’s only… at Prior Fedic’s age… I had concerns, you understand.”
… no decrepit Prior…The memory of what was said in the barn is less than heartening, and I suspect Prior Fedic isn’t showing up again anytime soon. But if the Renderers got him, why hasn’t the conclave in Lumeris sent a replacement yet? Or investigated the Prior’s disappearance when reports stopped coming in?
“I would not presume to know your business, Chosen One,” the cleric continues. “But if I can be of any assistance…?”
“You can,” I say, still mulling over the possibilities of Fedic’s fate. It doesn’t make sense. There is no greater asset to the Goddess than their Chosen… or so we’ve been told. I examine the humble surroundings plopped in the center of this distant smudge of a city. This isn’t exactly a choice assignment. It wouldn’t be given to anyone considered of high value among the Goddess’s ranks. And the strength of our blessing fades, eventually. Maybe Fedic’s had faded so much that he wouldn’t be considered any great loss.
Prior Petronilla’s threats rise in memory. I always thought she’d be doing me a favor, making sure I was stationed in some quiet, boring place. But if a city like Sethane is the reality of that? No… even Petronilla would never send me to a place filled with Renderers, not knowingly.
I turn my attention back to the waiting cleric. “I’d hoped to find the Chosen in charge, but it is not necessary. First, no one else needs to know I’m here, nor do you need my name, or any other identifying information other than what I’ve already communicated. Do you understand?”
The cleric nods emphatically.
“Good. I’m here to investigate some… disturbing rumors about heretical practices in the area.”
The cleric blanches a little. “Heretics? Here? That’s… unthinkable.”
“Is it?” I crook an eyebrow.
“I mean, not unthinkable,” he stammers, growing increasingly nervous. “Sethane is pious, of course. Dedicated entirely to Tempestra-Innara… and their Chosen.”
“But…?”
He twists his fingers. “You must understand… here, so far from Lumeris, beneath the crystal ziggurats…”
“The ziggurats? Those towers on the mountain?”
“Yes.” The cleric seems surprised at my ignorance of them. “The former places of worship of… of…”
I stand straighter, summoning my feigned authority. “You may be frank with me, cleric. No punishment will come of it.”
This seems to assuage him a little. “The Stone God,” he gets out finally. “Prior Fedic was dedicated to smothering any questionable practices, but the ziggurats have always drawn those who cling to heretical beliefs, who feel they are a symbol that dead gods only sleep. Sethane used to be… more than what you see, but the number of penitents needed to work the mines at any meaningful level of production…” He pauses, hesitating again. “There were uprisings, aided by the heretics. Lumeris deemed support an inefficient use of resources, and so the majority of the mining enterprises were abandoned.”
And a disposable Prior installed.
“The ziggurats,” I say again. “Tell me what you know about them.”
His head ducks. “Very little… and only what is common knowledge in the city,” he adds quickly. “They were built by the Stone God’s followers centuries ago—the materials quarried from the mountains—to be closer to the heavens, to the stars. They believed the Stone God’s heresy that the answers to all would be found in the marriage of the stone to the heavens. But then… when the Stone God fell…” He trails off.
“Please.” I keep my tone soft, encouraging. “You may continue.”
“When the Stone God died, the ziggurats changed. It is said the earth quaked like it never had before, and a great wave of power washed through them, changing the normal stone to the crystal that remains today.”
Crystal? “Interesting,” I say aloud, yet again irritated that my extensive, Cloister-based education has so many gaps that a simple cleric in the middle of nowhere is better informed than I am. But I’m not here to learn about the Stone God. “The heretics who still worship the Stone God, are there any in the city?”
Again, the cleric hesitates. “We try to keep them out, drive them away, but…”
“Just tell me, cleric. I’m not here to report back on how well you are doing your job.”
That doesn’t seem to encourage him. “Most keep to the mountains, near the ziggurats. They come here for food, supplies. Every so often one of your honored Bellator brethren and their legion sweep the hills, but the heretics simply retreat deep into the mountains. And, of course,Prior Fedic tried to find them when he could, but they are like rodents. No matter what is done they return.”
“I am seeking some very specific heretics. I know they are here, though I don’t know the city well enough to guess where they might be. Do you have any idea where they might congregate?”
