Page 108 of The Lost Reliquary
Rion chuckles. “Oh, I didn’t kill them. They’ve been dead for centuries.” He waves at the niches. “All of them have been. Perfectly natural deaths as far as we know.”
The contents of the mortar answers another question. “Bone? Arethese bodies of the Salt Goddess’s Chosen?” My hand goes to the Renderers’ book in my coat pocket, still secreted away. “Have you been supplying the Renderers with blessed bodies when they can’t manage any on their own?”
Rion nods, unbothered by the macabre nature of it all. “Mostly old ones.”
“Mostly? And what about the powder that gives their ‘hounds’ the ability to see us? You supply that too?”
“Yes, once I figured out its curious little effect.” He goes to a niche and pulls out a box. Within are dozens of crystal shards, large chunks down to tiny slivers. “Most of the reliquaries have been destroyed over the years. But I was able to put the remains I found to good use.”
“Putting remains to good use,” I say flatly. “How economical.”
“I know. It’s all a little distasteful. Especially considering the unintentional inspiration possibly given to the Arbiters. I’m showing you this because I wanted to be transparent. Staying unknown all these years, inserting spies into the followings of the living gods, building my network… none of that came easy. Or inexpensively. I followed paths that you might find disagreeable, I understand that. But are you at peace about everything you’ve done to survive while in servitude to the Goddess?”
He’s got me there. I cross my arms and say nothing.
“Divinity is scarce these days. But remnants of it, no matter how well hidden, sometimes call out. They pulse at the edges of my senses like fireflies in the night. And by feeding the continued demand for those remnants, Tempestra’s Chosen are reminded that even they are not protected from every threat. That their ‘blood mother’ is not all-powerful.” He pauses. “But you don’t wantmoredivinity. No, whatyouwant is what I’m offering in return for your help—freedom. Nothing more, nothing less. And in the end, what is more valuable than that?”
Freedom.The word quivers in my throat.
“All you need to do is say yes.”
Such a small thing. But decisiveness feels as far away as Tempestra-Innara right now. Staring at the ancient remains on the table, at the shards of reliquaries I can’t shake a sensation like when I was falling inNovena—drowning in the dark, grabbing blindly for whatever salvation I could find. The idea of more gods is stifling. But at the same time,Iwouldn’t be bound to any of them. They wouldn’t bemyproblem.
“If this happens”—my tongue is heavy, forming the words with tacky slowness—“if I agree to work with you… how? How does it play out?”
“As simple as this.” Rion walks over to another one of the niches. It opens, not to a body, but to something that I recognize instantly. Mostly because I saw it only minutes ago. Crystal, emerald, and silver. The Whisperer’s illusion was faithful save for one detail.
The reliquary is nearly empty.
When he places it in front of me, it’s clear there’s no more than a few swallows’ worth. More than Emmaus had squirreled away in his reverie, but not by much.
He taps the silver stopper with one finger. “This is all that is left of Arcadius, the Green God. I spent centuries searching for any remaining reliquaries, understanding that there was no better weapon against my brethren, even if I would have to wait to wield it. Most of the ones I found were empty or, more often, reduced to shards. I could never risk sending a follower divinely gifted with my blood against Tempestra—I would be revealed before they got close enough to strike. So, I waited until I judged that their current avatar would be close to being spent before sending Emmaus.” He shrugs in defeat. “It was a gamble that failed. And now my only choice is another gamble: to give you the last of Arcadius and hope what Tempestra did to you will result intheirundoing.”
“You’ll just…giveme the reliquary.”
“If you agree to help us, yes.”
Dead gods. Dead blood. New gods. New… I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. My own blood beats thickly in my ears, making my cheeks feel like overplump ticks. Thoughts stumble over themselves, trying to make sense. And even more frustrating, they keep casting back to the Petrel. To Nolan, ignorant of the absolutely shattering truths I’ve been gifted tonight. What would he think if he knew what I know now? What would hebelieveafter learning it?
And why do I even care?
“You need time.” My indecision is as clear to Rion as the reliquary crystal. “I do not know how much of that there is. We have a ship waiting, ready for when the Arbiter reopens the port. But there’s no telling if that will last.”
“I need to think… to consider.” Hesitance isn’t the only problem right now. But, for once, I may have a solution. “Nolan, my… partner. And Caius. They believe we’ve gotten close to your heretics. That you’re almost willing to work with us.”
“And you’re suggesting…?”
“Continue letting them think that. The closer they think we are to your inner workings, the further we’ll be able to back Caius off.”
“You believe that is the best way to deal with them?”
Everything tightens, my eyes going to the table. And the body parts.
“I wasn’t implying another avenue,” Rion says, as if reading something he doesn’t like on my face. “Enough attention has been drawn to Cyprene as it is. We can spin a fiction instead, give you time. But not much.”
My chest loosens, though only a little. “And… what happens if I say no?”
Rion knows what I’m really asking—if refusing will lead tomebecoming the heretics’ next source of illicit income.
