The Horns of Ruin (17 page)

"This is the part where you tell me," I said.

Nervous looks, and then Tomas waved a hand.

"Follow me, child."

Tomas went before me, Isabel behind. I couldn't help but
feel that I should be carrying my bully, or at least a knife.

They took me to the solarium. In our glory days, this space
had doubled as a ballroom for formal events. Now it was just dusty, and a nice
place to watch the stars. Night now, so the wide, domed ceiling of glass
glittered with the diamond sky and the wash of alchemical light from the
surrounding glass towers of the city. We were high in the Strength, above the
fortified chambers, above even the terrace where Elias had fought his last. The
solarium was a luxury of the Strength, not found in the other fortress
monasteries of Morgan. Not that there were any left in the countryside still
dedicated to their original purpose.

Tomas paused by the door and spun up the broad
frictionlamps that ringed the glass dome. The room filled with amber light. The
marble floor was unevenly dusty, and the air was cold and stale. I waited for
Tomas to finish his business with the lights, watching Isabel walk further into
the room. She reached the center and then orbited the inlaid compass rose, very
slowly.

"No waiting around, girl," Tomas muttered as he
passed me. "We've a lot of business tonight."

We Joined Isabel at the center. He held up a hand for me to
stop, just on the edge of the compass. Isabel came to stand beside me. Tomas
kept his eyes on the floor, focusing on the dusty marble. Then, strangely, he
raised his arms in benediction. And he danced.

It was a slow step, heel and toe and careful forms that
moved him around the compass rose to an unheard tune. The dust puffed around
his feet and stained the hem of his robe. Isabel put a hand on my elbow and
tugged me slowly back. One revolution he danced, and then the floor opened and
a platform rose into the room, panels sliding and clicking like a magician's
disappearing box.

The platform was small and pyramidal, rising to waist
height at the center. On the highest part there was a cylinder of banded iron,
like a thousand pistons bundled together.

"How many years of dances and balls held in this room,
and no one just happened to step that path?" I asked, my voice a whisper.

"It is an invokation," Tomas answered. He was out
of breath, and a sheen of sweat beaded on his pale forehead. "Something
you will learn, in time."

"So. What is this thing that we have hidden behind our
god's secret life as a dancer?" I asked. Steps led up the gentle slope to
the platform. I ascended and put my hand on the cylinder. It was about the
length of my arm, and four times as thick. Heavier than I anticipated when I
picked it up.

"You will need to invoke," Isabel said. There was
a hint of amusement in her voice. I ignored her and hefted it to my shoulder,
then tottered down the stairs. Isabel shook her head, then invoked under her
breath and plucked the cylinder from my grasp. She set it on the ground, and we
all stood around and stared at it.

"We don't know," Tomas said eventually. "It
arrived, unseen, in the Chamber of the Fist. Two weeks ago."

I knelt beside it. The complicated bindings of my
ceremonial doublet creaked as I looked the device over.

"These are Amonite markings," I said, running my
finger over a band of runes along one edge. "This is the language of the
Scholar."

Tomas took a deep breath and then exhaled a deeper sigh.

"It is," he said.

"Why is this in the Strength, then? It is the engine
of a heretic. It should be taken to the Cult of the Healer and destroyed."

"Yes," Isabel said darkly. "It should."

"It should, but was not," Tomas answered,
testily. "On the word of the Fratriarch."

"And what came of that?" Isabel asked. They were
starting their argument again, as if forgetting I was in the room. "You
fought him, Tomas. It was your vote that we destroy it. Immediately."

"Yes, it was. But the vote still stands."

"What vote?" I asked. "What the hell are you
people talking about?"

Tomas and Isabel stared at each other, lost in old
conversations. When they broke their stare, the tension in the room snapped.

"There was a great deal of discussion on this subject.
The Council voted." Tomas circled the cylinder, then placed a hand on its
cap, running a finger around the Betrayer's runes. "And that vote still
stands."

"For now," Isabel answered. "But Elias is
dead, and Barnabas, most likely. The Council needs to be re-formed, a new
Fratriarch ascended, a new vote-

"Whoa, whoa, hang on. Barnabas isn't dead, not yet.
Unless you've got his body in some chandelier or stuffed behind your wardrobe,
he's still the Fratriarch. And I'm still his Paladin. Whatever the old man
decided still stands." I looked angrily down at the cylinder. "Even
if we don't like it."

"We will see. This is a time of emergency, Eva."
Isabel placed a hand on my shoulder. "We must take extraordinary measures
in times such as these."

"Or we could stand by our vows, and serve the
Fratriarch." I fixed Tomas with my gaze. "As we swore."

"Yes, yes. As we swore. Either way, you won't get a
vote, Paladin. This is a matter for the Elders. And this," he said,
motioning to the device, "is the heart of it."

"This is what got Elias killed? Do we even know what
it is?"

"Not really. As you surmised, it is an Amonite
artifact. Some kind of storage device, perhaps, or a map." Tomas took a
step away from the thing and clasped his hands behind his back. "Amon was
always fond of keeping knowledge in machines. But really, we don't know what it
is, or where it came from."

"And you didn't turn it over to the Alexians because
... ?"

"Because we did not know where it came from. It was
given to us, to the Cult of Morgan. Not Alexander."

"So this is some kind of pissing match, Elder?"

"Alexander abuses the knowledge of the Scholars,
Eva," Isabel said, stepping into our conversation from where she had been
observing from the side. "He keeps them as pets, milking them for whatever
benefit he can manage. Whatever will further his power."

"Are you feeling empathy for the Librarians Desolate,
Lady Elder?" I asked, smirking. "Doesn't sound like you."

"Not empathy. I don't think they should be kept at all.
Alexander allows the worship of Amon, Morgan's murderer, to further his own
needs. He speaks to us of justice, but only as far as is convenient for him. He
promises us revenge, and then allows the scions of Amon to live in captivity,
so that they might build him weapons, and grow him armies of peasants."

"Weapons that have contributed to the downfall of our
Cult, Elder? Is that your concern?"

She stepped close to me, her breath a mix of spice and
sweat. Her finger hammered into my chest, inches from Barnabas's pendant.

"My concern is that the servants of the Betrayer are
allowed to live, when our god Morgan lies dead."

"Regardless of fault," Tomas said, "we do
not wish to further Alexander's knowledge of the ways of Amon. Whatever
knowledge this archive contains, it is for us, not him."

"And that's why we were fetching the girl," I
said. "In the hope that she would be able to decipher the device, and
further the cause of Morgan."

"That was the Fratriarch's hope," Tomas answered.
"We were opposed to it, but ... he's the Fratriarch."

"Was," Isabel said. I rounded on her, but she
held up her hands in peace. "And shall always be. Settle, girl."

"So why are you showing me this?"

"You should know what caused all of this. Barnabas's
kidnapping, the murder of our brother Elias. Whatever is to come. We all felt
that you should be aware of the cause."

I nodded to myself. That was the reason they were willing
to tell me, at least. I suspected there was more going on, more that I wasn't
being told. I would speak to Simeon, later, and get his side of their
disagreement.

"And why was Elias killed?" I asked. "Did he
have some secret knowledge of this device, or something?"

"We don't know," Tomas answered, shaking his head
slowly. "Someone is warring against us. We assume they are aligned with
the Betrayer. Perhaps trying to recover this device, or destroy it."

"They're welcome to destroy it," Isabel spat.
"I don't want this Scholar filth in my monastery."

"If the Betrayer wants it destroyed, then isn't that
reason enough to preserve it?" Tomas asked. Isabel took a step back,
looking at him with confusion. He nodded at the question in her eyes.
"This is not as simple a question as I would like to believe, Isabel. The
more troubles develop, the more questions I have. The less sure I am of my
earlier vote."

Isabel grimaced, then hefted the device with her
still-invoked strength and placed it back on the platform. Without a signal
that I saw, the platform folded intricately back into the floor. When it was
smoothed away, Isabel turned to Tomas, fire in her eyes.

"Do not speak to me of complicated answers, Tomas.
This course will see us all killed. Alexander fails us. Amon will lie to us. It
is only in Morgan we can trust."

"Morgan is dead, love," Tomas answered, quietly.
Isabel spat, then whirled and marched out of the room.

Tomas watched her go with sad eyes, then put a hand on my
shoulder.

"How will we stand, if not together?" His voice
was very quiet. "We must speak of your duties, Paladin."

"What would you have of me, Elder?"

He turned to me, his clear blue eyes wet and bright.

"The girl is in the hands of the Chanters," he
said, very carefully. "What does she know?"

"She can chant a hell of an Unmaking, Elder. Beyond
that," I shrugged, "that's what the Chanters are for, aren't
they?"

"It matters to us, Eva. It is important. We cannot go
back to the Library Desolate and simply withdraw another. Besides," he
drew close to me, "this girl, she was with the Fratriarch when he was
taken. Might have been involved in it."

"Yes. I hope she can lead us to him."

"Lead us? Perhaps. But we must know how it happened.
Who is responsible. And worse, Eva ... what did he say, there at the end? What
if she escaped, ignored by whoever it was that took Barnabas. What does she
know of why we summoned her? She surrendered to you, did she not? Why would she
do that?"

"To preserve her fellow scions, I think. It isn't
unreasonable."

"That is not the action of a Scholar. Of a Betrayer.
She must know something of the archive, something of Barnabas's reason for
visiting the Library."

"And if she does?" I asked.

"The Chanters will know. And then Alexander will
know."

I crossed my arms.

"Is it that important, Elder? That we endanger the
search for the Fratriarch, perhaps cost him his life, to keep this thing hidden
from Alexander? He is our god's brother, after all."

"As was Amon." He pulled away from me, shuffling
slowly to the center of the floor, his head down. He traced a pattern in the
dust with the toe of his old boot. "It is important, Eva. It was the
Fratriarch's will. He knew the danger, when he went to the Library alone, with
only you as his guard. He knew, and accepted it."

"What are you asking of me, Elder?"

"To do the Fratriarch's will. To obey him, as you
swore to obey him." He stopped his scuffling and looked up at me. His eyes
were sad. "Alexander has the girl. Bring her to us."

It didn't really matter what I thought. The Elders were
going to do what they were going to do. I had never understood Cult politics,
the secrets we kept, the secrets the Healers kept from us. Never understood why
either of the Cults put up with the bloody Amonites, either. There must be
other ways to keep the city running, besides the Betrayer's slick invokations.
Again, not my decision. Not my business. The Elders were going to do what they
were going to do. And I was going to do what I was going to do.