Chapter 66
Mater Councillor Visit's husband was a Night Cleric, someone who works to clear reports and petitions whilst no more are received, so he was home when Request and Tone went to interview him. What's more, he would be asleep when they got there, meaning he would be disoriented and at a disadvantage.
“Such are the small tricks we play,” Tone said as they walked. “The tools to shine Sol's light in dark places are many and subtle.”
They were in Sol's Greeting, the wealthiest area of Aureu. Crab and Visit lived toward the edge, not quite rich enough to afford a place on the Circumference even with Visit’s newfound status. Tone seemed to know where she was going, so Request followed, listening to the Contegon Councillor’s anecdotes.
She even allowed herself to use Tone's first name. A Contegon's second name was another of Sol's subtle tool, a way of placing them above others. Request wondered whether Maya had considered asking for second names for the Acolytes, but decided no, not when she thoroughly rejected the Contegons.
That, she guessed, was another reason why Stations kept secrets: one might not respect their capabilities and moral authority if you knew their mistakes and secrets. That Acolytes were told by their own Councillor to hide their Spirits was proof of that: Maya might have excellent intentions in wanting to break the Stations apart, but she would also suffer from increased openness.
“You're walling up for the Stations, you know,” Ink pointed out.
Request nodded, astonished: she was defending the Station system. She was beginning to understand them, the circles within circles, processes within processes. Maya had lectured on that subject before. Request had dismissed it as a waste of time. Now, she understood a little more of what Maya had been saying about consequences and reactions, about Geos' connectedness.
That didn't, though, forgive the Stations' mistakes and hubris. They still had much to learn, especially in working with and treating the Stationless. No one cared about the problems of the poor, such as forcing Merchants and Artificers to improve the standards of all housing, not just the politically-sensitive places.
“You're pretty absent too,” Ink hissed. “What have you achieved?”
Once again, her Spirit was right. “Remind me of that later,” she whispered.
“Sorry?” Tone asked.
“Just talking to myself, sorry,” Request lied, before saying, “Tell me about the Maters: all I know is their little recruiting campaigns, those women handing out white feathers on the street.”
Tone's eyes narrowed. “The official story is that, just after the Battle for Aureu, Visit had a vision of Geos losing the war due to under-population. She took this dream to the Lord Councillor, who saw the wisdom of Sol in her, and helped her create a new Station dedicated to preventing that grim future.”
“And that was the Maters?” Request asked.
“It was,” Tone nodded. “Conveniently, the matter had been on the Council's agenda for weeks: we had lost so many people, we didn't know how to cope with such death. Then Blind came with this proposal to make women who dedicated themselves to producing children, bolstering our ranks, into a Station... A proposal brought by a woman admittedly filled with Sol's vigour.”
Request frowned. “So they just... what, fuck a lot and give birth a lot?”
“In a holy fashion,” Tone said after laughing.
“But you don't like them. And you don't like Visit.”
Tone lowered her voice. “I do not. I abstained from the vote on the Station's creation: this was the same meeting where the Acolytes were created, and I knew that blocking Blind's pet Station would lead to him blocking the Acolytes. It was a trade-off. One I still question the value of.”
Request hoped there would be enough time for Tone to finish her point before they arrived. “You said before that they were part of a... a Revisionist agenda. What did you mean?”
“Before the Maters, the only single-gender Station was the Contegons,” Tone said, gripping her white glove into a fist. “That role was indelibly linked with strength, power, and protection. Now, there is another role: spewing out babies. I fear this is the role some would prefer for us, that the Maters represent the start of a transition. Soon, someone like Blind will say the Maters should be the priority, and that men should swell the Contegon's ranks... and then the other Stations will venture down the same path, leading us where the First Servant was terrified of going.”
“Where?” Request asked, her head spinning at such a slow, long game being played in the Solaric Council.
“Eventually? Another Cleansing,” Tone said. Then her shoulders slumped and her eyes glazed over.
Request let her have her privacy to process what she had said. Tone's concerns sounded crazy, but she was one of the holiest people in Geos, so she mustn't be mad... but, then, neither should the Lord Councillor be. Her thoughts felt muddy, clouded.
After minutes of silence, Tone shook her head and looked around, as though they'd just appeared in the wide, clean street. It was surrounded by houses with gardens that would hold another fifteen families where Request grew up, and this was the poorer part of Sol's Greeting.
“Ah, that's the one,” Tone said, pointing. “Two-hundred and thirty-nine.”
“Lead the way,” Request said.
Tone knocked at the front door, firm and confident impacts that boomed within. There was movement inside, and a man with a slender frame who stooped into a black suit answered the door. His eyes widened when he saw the two white uniforms.
“Crab?” Request asked.
“No, this is his Butler,” Tone answered. “We want the man of the house. I assume he's in?”
“Cleric Crab is currently asleep, sires,” this 'Butler' replied, “but I will assume he'd want that to be rectified in the presence of a Councillor and an Acolyte.” He stepped aside. “Please come in.”
Tone took his offer, walking confidently inside. Request followed, eyeing the tall man, wondering what he was. His shoes were polished, his clothes pressed, but his hands were rough and he looked tired, worn. He looked like someone Stationless who’d stolen some clothes.
“Take a seat in the parlour,” the Butler said, gesturing to a large room with several sofas and glass cabinets filled with antiques, “and I shall awaken Cleric Crab.”
Again, she took Tone's lead and sat on a wide leather seat so new it couldn’t have hosted many people. She tried to make herself comfortable on the firm chair and whispered, “What is a Butler?”
“They are a kind of Servant,” Tone replied.
Servants, the step above being Stationless: a secure life where you never had to worry about where your next meal, but the Stationless looked down on them. Not talented enough to be Stationed, unable to take the fight of being Stationless, they bent their knees instead. Perhaps, she admitted, the Stationless envied mostly their relative comfort.
The Butler returned a minute later with a portly man wearing Cleric robes he'd obviously hastily thrown on. Balding, he had a red complexion and the bleary eyes of someone who'd just woken up.
“Cleric,” Tone said, rising from her seat, “we are sorry for waking you.”
Crab's eyes widened as he saw who addressed him. “Sire, the Contegon Councillor doesn't need to apologise for interrupting anyone. Let alone when she brings an Acolyte with her. Good day to you.”
“Good day, Cleric,” Request said, standing as well.
“Please, sit. What can I do for you both today?”
Tone sat. “The Acolyte I have with me is Request, one of Acolyte Councillor Maya's latest batch. We appreciate you must be incredibly busy during your shifts, but we have a specific question for you: you were responsible for purchasing the travel equipment for Maya's journey to the eastern Front?”
Request was impressed: Tone had said why they were here without mentioning Lun's Burst, and put him on edge with reasonable words.
The Cleric showed this by looking from Tone to Request and back. “I... By which, I me
an...”
“Calm yourself, Cleric,” Request said smoothly.
Crab took a deep breath, but he still seemed filled with a blind, feral panic. “I was in charge of that yes. Though I must, must stress that I had not a single inkling of what the items were for!”
Though he had the opportunity, the sickly fear he emanated meant he had nothing to do with it: he only feared he would be blamed for something he had not been involved with. Besides, his Councillor, poor Pale, wouldn’t have explained what the suitcases were for.
“And we do not believe you are directly involved in Lun's Burst,” Tone said, “but we wanted to ask about how you bought the suitcases, trunks, and so on?”
“In the standard way,” Crab answered, feeling a little more comfortable behind Cleric processes. “I identified a preferred Merchant and placed an order using a Cleric Replacement Note. Then I had the items delivered and provided them to the Clerics ordered with delivering them.”
“You also gave one item to the Farmers?” Tone asked.
Crab shook his head. “The Cleric above me, Minus, may have done so, but I did not.”
That put a little salt in their sugar, but of course Pale would separate the assembly of a secret carriage into smaller tasks so no one involved could grasp the whole of what they did.
Tone stood. “Well, thank you for your time, Cleric.”
Request did her best not to frown. The Contegon Councillor hadn't forgotten their main reason for interviewing the man, so she must be playing a game. Request stood too, started for the front door.
“I'm glad to be of any help I can, sires,” Crab said with a frown.
Tone joined Request by the door, and then turned back to the relieved-looking Cleric. “You had the travel gear sent here, didn't you?”
“Yes, of course,” Crab said without thinking.
Tone nodded and opened the front door. Request followed, casting one look back to see the Cleric frowning, looking down as he puzzled through that exchange. She wondered how long it would take for him to clock that he had implicated his wife in Lun's Burst.