Chapter 49
Snow sat at the head of his table, Scar's signet in his hands, trying to find some trace of Sigil. He was no longer an Acolyte in the true sense, which worried him personally and as a Shield-General whose Front was weakened, though the Lun Cultists may help offset that deficit. Not that he could explain that comfort to anyone. Except, perhaps, for Maya.
With all his reports given, and the Council working on a new, official strategy for dealing with the Disciples' underground lairs, the day-to-day running of the Front took over. Until there was official word from Draw on how to proceed, their main work was in moving reserve forces forward: everyone except a skeleton crew for high-level decisions was now on the Front. That made his days easier, but it had also given him moments such as these to dwell on Sigil’s death.
The tent flap opened and Grit, the western Front's other Acolyte, entered. Slight, young, he would have been three years into his Farmer training if Maya hadn't pulled him out.
Snow dropped Scar's signet, and rose. “Grit. I'd not expected you.”
“Certainty didn't feel like she could be here, sire,” the boy replied. “I was only a bit more able. It... it feels weird to even look at you.”
“The last thing I need, Grit, is a guilt festival. I'm... I'm doing enough of that on my own.”
Grit acquiesced. “I apologise, sire. I didn't mean to... Yes. I've been thinking about it, and, despite my discomfort about what happened, there must have been a reason for Sigil's death. Sol would not allow one of his Spirits - Servants, sorry - to... well, what happened... if he didn't have a higher purpose. This Contegon you saved, she must have a future akin to Maya's.”
“I can only hope so,” someone said.
At the tent flap was Element. Snow felt a strange, bitter-sweet joy at seeing her whole and strong. She stepped inside. Her Contegon's robes were clean. Her weapons had been repaired.
“Contegon Insight. Welcome,” Snow said.
“Hello, Shield-General Snow.”
“Not until tomorrow,” Snow replied.
“Why did you call us here, sire?” Grit asked, taking a seat beside Snow.
Snow shook his head. “There's still one more person we're waiting for.”
Element sat beside Grit, obviously expecting their final guest to be of a higher Station. Technically, she was right, but he wanted her next to him. He wanted to be close to her.
“How are you feeling, Contegon Insight?” Grit asked.
“Element. Call me Element, sire.”
“Of course,” Grit said with a nod. “Still, how are you feeling? I'm fascinated to learn how your wound has healed: horrible as the circumstances were, there is much they can tell us about the Gift, and about Sol.”
Her eyes flitted across at Snow, and the corners of her mouth drooped. “I... The Doctors tell me that the Gift's healing was akin to natural healing after a complex surgery, only accelerated by years. I will need to avoid heavy spices to not aggravate the internal scarring, but, beyond that, I'm as I was.”
Grit nodded. “I find that fascinating. I guess it makes sense, doesn't it? Sol would never undo the mistakes and pain, but he would make up for them.”
“He hasn't made up for any of my pains,” Catch said as he entered. He wore his full Shield uniform, and an expression that said his valuable time was being wasted. “If he did, I'd be living in a golden mansion on the Circumference by now.”
“That's not how–” Grit started.
“He was joking,” Snow said.
“Was I?” Catch asked. He sat next to Snow, completing their little gathering.
Snow looked at them, his mentor, his friend, and one of his Station. They watched him back, nervous and curious about this gathering. The pause allowed him to compose himself, but it also piqued their interest, an old trick Maya had taught him.
“You may not have heard, but it was recently confirmed that Contegon Chain Justicar uncovered a plot in the Mining Town of Buckle to smuggle Disciple goods throughout Geos. She ended it spectacularly, as you'd expect from a Contegon of her name and stature.”
“Praise Sol,” Grit said, acquiescing to the air.
“Praise Sol,” Element repeated.
“What's that got to do with anything?” Catch asked.
Snow tried not to smile: he'd trapped Catch just as he'd hoped. “The problem, Catch, is that Contegon Justicar fought Merchants, a Cleric, and a Stationless man. All of them Heretics. If those noble ranks can be compromised, only one Station can be trusted to not contain Disciple traitors.”
“The Acolytes,” Grit said.
Snow nodded.
Element looked around the table. “Wait, no, what about the Contegons?”
“And have you forgotten your other Station, Snow? You know, the Shields?”
“I have forgotten neither, Element, Catch,” Snow replied. “The problem is there is no tangible link to Sol, or proof of his approval, in either Station. Only the Acolytes have the Gift, absolute evidence that Sol approves of them. As such, only the Acolytes can be trusted.”
Catch's lip curled into a snarl. He wanted to respond, to fight back, but he couldn't think of a valid argument. After a few seconds, he tutted and looked away. “Fine.”
“No, it's not fine,” Element said. “You can’t disparage entire Stations on the actions of Heretics.”
Grit tutted. “Even if there are human, Disciple-supporting Heretics? Your own fight with the Acolyte Killer shows that humans have turned to the Disciple cause.”
“I'm saying,” Snow said, interrupting the argument, “that people I don't know can't be trusted, and that a person’s Station is no longer proof of their incorruptibility. However, I must trust them to run this Front: the four of us and Acolyte Certainty can’t protect the Front alone.”
“These two and the Acolytes are the ones you trust most?” Grit asked.
“I’d trust everyone here with my life,” Snow rose and rested his fists on the table. “Element, Catch, Grit, we now know Heresy can remain hidden in our ranks for years until it bursts like a blister. So far, the Disciples have damaged us, but there is no killer blow. I do not want there to be, not in my Front.”
Element furrowed her brow and shook her head. “What are you asking?”
“There is no one I trust more than you. So I need you to lead tacit investigations into the people on my Front. The Mariners, Farmers, and Clerics are already searching their ranks with a fine comb. They'll be thorough because they'll want to show they are weeding out these corrupt fools, but we can’t trust they’ll all be honest. And nothing will happen amongst the Contegons and Shields. I want the three of you, and Certainty, to be Sol's light: I want you to shine in the dark places, eliminate the shadows in every Station under my Front.”
“You want us to... what, run secret investigations at all times?” Grit asked.
“The Acolytes can read emotions. The Contegons are authorised to investigate anyone. And Catch could order a dark cloud to turn white. Between you, I expect that you will uncover every darkness. Obviously, I want you to be quiet as possible in all you do: we don’t need a war within our ranks too.”
Catch shared a brief look with Element, before standing. “As you command, sire. I look forward to it.”
Snow smiled. “I thought you might.”
“And how could I resist an order to shine Sol's magnificence onto the face of evil?” Grit asked as he stood. “As the Sol Lexic says, 'Never pass on an opportunity to shine, for the only thing Sol loves more than creating good and undoing evil is to shine on his beloved, allowing them to do both for themselves.' I will pursue this, as, I'm sure, will Certainty.”
“Well put,” Snow said. Grit's knowledge of the Sol Lexic was encyclopedic. The focus for his Gift was a small, hand-written copy of the book too. His memory could not be questioned.
They turned to Element, who took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders. “I am uncomfortable with the idea that a Contegon could ever be suspected a Disci
ple-supporter. The very idea seems Heretical to me.”
“It wouldn't be the first time a Contegon turned Heretic, would it?” Catch asked.
“Nowhere is it written in the Sol Lexic that Contegons are always pure,” Grit pointed out.
“Nor does it speak about Acolytes,” Element fired back.
“I disagree. Consider the follow: 'Sol said, 'Sometimes, he will gift his followers–'”
“Let's not get into a semantic argument,” Snow said. “Contegon Insight, you were named for the quality I'm asking you to exercise. Will you do this, not for your Shield-General, but for me?”
Element sighed. “We'll have to agree the parameters of any investigation into the Contegons, but yes, in principle, I will prove to you that my Station has no Heretics.”
“Thank you. Thank you, all of you,” Snow said. “I shall contact you over the next few days to confirm how you should report: obviously, we can't meet like this every month or people will realise what we're doing.”
“Or think us Heretics ourselves,” Element said.
Snow looked Element up and down. “Perhaps. Thank you for your time. Return to your duties.” He added, when they rose, “Except for you, Contegon Insight.”
Catch and Grit acquiesced and left. Element remained on her feet, gripping the back of her chair with her white gloves. Her eyes were narrow, her breathing erratic.
She waited until Catch and Grit were gone before saying, “I don't like this, Snow. And I don't like you manipulating me into something that feels an awful lot like Heresy. You’re breaking the clear delineation of the Stations. If you were to order an investigation like this at any other time...”
“I'm not ordering it at just any time, though, am I?” Snow asked. “We've been attacked by Disciple Heretics among our ranks, behind the damn Fronts. The report on Chain's fight makes a strong case for heavier actions: Disciple materials were smuggled beyond the Fronts to waiting people of Station. And there are tunnels beneath Geos' soil, which the Council struggle to come to terms with.” He sighed. “Element, we are not fighting the war we thought we were. The Disciples are working in different ways. So should we.”
“'Chain?'” Element asked. Her lips were tight, and she crossed her arms. “Do you know Contegon Justicar well enough to use her name?”
Snow laughed. “I suppose so: she was the Contegon present when we landed the barges from Port. Do you not remember her?”
Element shook her head. “I only remember fear, and then you were gone. I remember being led to a strange place by kind Mariners. It was Contegon Justicar who led you away, was it?” Element laughed. “Sol has a strange sense of humour.”
“Why did it matter that I called her Chain?” Snow asked.
“I was worried it was disrespectful,” she said stiffly.
“That was a poor lie, Element,” Snow said, standing and walking over to her. “A Contegon wasn't made to lie, I don't think.”
The Contegon took a breath, hitched and staccato. Her eyes crossed his face. She licked her lips and said, “I... I might have been jealous.”
Snow's mouth felt dry as he reached out and touched her cheek. Element sighed, a pleasant and happy sound, and took his hand. “Snow...”
“Yes?”
She pulled him forward and into a kiss, the motion swift and strong. At first, he was surprised. Then he was astonished. Then he melted into the kiss.
He pulled back and smiled. As he looked at Element, this beautiful and powerful warrior, this woman he had given his Station to save, a faint green haze surrounded her: love, lust, and hope. Element took his expression as a deep compliment – which he supposed it was – and pulled him into another deep kiss. This time, Snow was prepared for it.
Their time was interrupted, however, when someone landed heavily outside his tent. Snow and Element stood away from one another to protect their reputations.
Snow didn’t get chance to dwell on it as Certainty came running into the room. “Sire, I need to talk to you,” she panted, red-faced and out of breath.
“What is it, Certainty?” Snow said, his joy lost in panic. “Another firework?”
The Acolyte shook her head. “No, worse. Aureu has been attacked.”
Maya
'What could be more dangerous?
Oh, what could be worse?
Then Lun preparing for some months,
And releasing one great burst?'
-- Lyrics from Lun's Burst, a folk song.