Chapter 72
Maya finished reading Snow's letter aloud and looked across the table at Request. The young Acolyte had kept silent, fascinated to hear from the Acolyte Shield-General on these Acolyte Killers.
Maya didn't know how she felt about a class of Disciple being named after the death of her students. Nor did she know how she felt about the sacrifice Snow had made: she obviously knew Cyrus Force sensitive people could give up Spirits, but to do so to your only Spirit... She shuddered, unable to consider it further.
Request summoned Ink and wrapped her arms around it. The liquid form returned the gesture, gripping her as hard as it had been gripped.
“If it makes a difference,” Applekill said, “Snow has not given up his status as an Acolyte. He will be able to, with enough effort and time, form a new Spirit.”
“It won't be Sigil, though, will it?”
Applekill opened her cracked lips to answer, then thought better of it.
“Exactly. Exactly,” Request said, breaking her embrace with Ink. “How can you be so calm when it's your fucking kind we're talking about? That's the first Spirit we've ever seen die, actually fucking die, and you're calm as a windless day? What in the name of Lun's wrong with you?”
“Request, it's because I would do the same thing for Maya. I'm calm because Sigil is a hero.”
Ink nodded. It communicated with Request somehow, sharing images or emotions, and Request shook her head. “I'd never give you up for anything or anyone, Ink. But thank you.”
“What else do you think?” Maya pressed. “I'm keen to get your views: I’m still confused about all of this.”
Request considered the question. “I think Snow is lucky he has a brilliant Contegon as a friend. And I think we're going to need more Acolytes to deal with this problem. Maya, Lun's Burst suggested it, but this new Disciple proves it: we're more vulnerable than we thought. We can't waste time picking out the perfect fucking Acolytes and spending all year to get them right. We need more of them now.”
“What are you suggesting?” Maya asked.
“We step up recruitment. I know you spend months vetting candidates, letting the other Stations fuck about, but we need to be stronger. We need to produce as many, if not more, Acolytes as the Academy produces Contegons. Our sort need to be out there to protect people from these Lions, Black Widows, and Disciples, and to replace one another when an Acolyte Killer takes one down.”
Maya shook her head. “No, Request, we can't do that.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because I say so, as your Councillor,” Maya hissed.
“That's not good enough. Give me a real reason.”
She jabbed violently at Applekill. “There's an element of picking the right people, of picking those who have the most power and flair, but that's not even it. The fucking Spirits, Request. Have you forgotten about the sheer shock you felt at being introduced to Ink? The religious terror at meeting a representative of Sol? We must pick people who can handle this, or else the work we’ve put in until that point is wasted.”
“'Perfection is a horizon,” Request said, “you never catch it.'”
“Yes, you don't need to lecture a former Contegon on the Sol Lexic, Request.”
Request shook her head. “Apparently I do. But it's not even about that, not really. There's something else, isn't there? In the first few years, you were slowly increasing the numbers of Acolytes you produced. You were getting better, improving your processes. One, then two, then four Acolytes appeared. And then it stopped rising, right after Draw's Folly.”
“You don't know–”
Request slams her fist on the table. “I fucking do know what I'm talking about, Maya. Do you forget I can read emotions as well as you can? That I'm an Acolyte too?”
“That's an unacceptable way to talk to me, Request.”
“What's unacceptable is saying 'because I say so' in response to that idea, Acolyte Councillor Maya,” Request hissed. “What's unacceptable is your pain at Draw's monumental idiocy costing lives. This year, Maya, is your final chance before the other Acolytes ask why their ranks aren't swelling. And I can see you were wanting to use Lun's Burst as an excuse against ramping the efforts up further. Because–”
“Request...”
“Because you didn't want to see any more of your Acolytes die.”
“Request!”
“That's it, isn't it?”
“Yes!” Maya howled. She slammed her fists on the table over, anger flooding her senses. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Applekill touched her on the shoulders. “Maya?”
Maya blinked, looked at the burning form in front of her: the Spirit's eyes were red rubies and her skin was dark. She shook her head, and the vision passed.
“What... what was that?” Request asked. She was a few feet from the table, holding her paintbrush like a weapon. “Maya, what the fuck just happened to you?”
“I... I must have had an episode. Like I had with the Shields....”
“No, Maya, no. Stop fucking lying to me! That was something else. That wasn't you. It was dark, sick, and slippery. It was... I don't know what it was. Sol, Maya, what just came over you?”
Maya goggled at her young Acolyte. She'd sensed something... external in Maya too, something that wasn't her? Until then, she'd hoped that feeling had been a mid-battle delusion, something she entertained because she couldn't handle the truth. But Request had confirmed it.
Maya looked at Applekill, who shook her head. “I... I can't be a part of this conversation.”
The Spirit disappeared. Mission took her place, stepping forward.
“What's going on?” Request asked, growing in panic.
“I'd like to know that as well,” Maya asked.
“You really don't know, do you?” Request said, astonished.
Mission coughed, stepped forward. “Applekill can't be a part of this. Maya, Request, promise me you will not call her back, nor will you ever mention to her what we are about to discuss. It is... it is so, so vitally important that you do not. Am I understood?”
“Mission, you're scaring me,” Maya said.
“Promise. Both of you. Swear on what you hold dearest.”
“I swear on Sol, Mission,” Request said.
“I swear,” Maya echoed.
Mission’s stiff, military posture softening. “It's taken me a while to piece this together, mainly because Applekill wasn't sure what she could and couldn't say. She has shared some of her... shall we say, ancestral memories, and that helped me understand what I'm about to say. Even then, I only had the confirmation a moment ago, when you lost your temper.”
“Confirmation of what?” Maya asked.
“Maya, Request, there is an... anti-Gift, a twisted form called Taint. Normally, it requires an extraordinary amount of negative and inhuman emotion to form such a thing, but it can also apparently be formed when something is brought back from... I guess you would have to call it Sol's Brilliance.
“Before you were gifted Applekill, you Dived into that brilliance. Whilst there, you accidentally killed one of Sol's... natural Spirits. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, one that remained when you returned? That remnant of a Spirit twisted: it fed on you, and then on Aureu's negative emotions during the Battle for Aureu, becoming true Taint. It has continued to feed on you, remaining in the background as it grew stronger. Now, it is strong enough to take control of your body.”
The Spirit added, only to Maya, “As it did during your part of the Battle for Aureu. When you lost control of yourself just after Candle's death? That was the Taint coming over you.”
“Sol... I mean... Sol...” Request said.
Maya looked Mission up and down. Her chest felt sunken with panic that a malevolent Spirit was inside her, one that could take her body. It explained so much: her blackouts, the warpath she cut through the Shields, that external feeling her anger gave her...
Questions remained, though. “Why couldn't Applekill tell
me this?”
Mission replied with his own question, that impassive mask coming down to her level as it sat, “What's the last thing you remember of the Battle for Aureu, Maya?”
“I was... fighting. I fought a number of Disciples alone. They wounded me. I fell unconscious and then... that's it, until I woke up in Aureu. Why, is there more?”
“Prepare yourself for this.”
“For what?” Request asked.
“Are you braced?”
“I'm angry and scared,” Maya said. “Is that what you were aiming for?”
Mission nodded. “Maya, you died. The Disciples ripped their claws through you, and they ended your life. Applekill tried to save you, but she couldn't because healing requires a supreme effort, as Sigil showed. She didn't even have enough strength to sacrifice herself.”
“No, that can't be right. No...”
But Maya's words weren't strong. A memory tickled her, one of Disciples standing over her as strength faded from her body. She'd always thought it a nightmare, something she'd dreamt when she'd fainted. But now, it felt more like something which had happened, her last moments before...
“What's that got to do with Applekill?” Request asked.
“Applekill, in her desperation, begged this Taint to heal Maya's wounds. Taint... it has more innate power than Sol's Gift because it deals in destruction, pain.” 'Entropy,' Mission added for Maya's benefit. “It was also fat from consuming Aureu's panic and stress. Applekill convinced it that saving her was in the Taint's best interest. So it agreed to grant Maya life in return for Applekill not telling her, you, about its existence. And it did so, 'eating your destruction.'”
“Wait, aren't you fucking risking Maya's life by telling us this?”
Maya felt claws in her skin, cold steel that wanted to bleed her. She looked down and saw blood seeping through her robes. Standing, panicked, she pulled her clothes up and found three surface wounds in her sternum. They looked like Disciple wounds, but they weren’t even bleeding.
“Sol, Maya...” Request said.
“How–?” Maya croaked, her throat raw, as it had been when she returned from the Dive.
“How do I know the Taint won't kill you? Because I worked this out on my own. Maya, I've sensed something odd in you for some time. It was only when Request noticed the Taint that Applekill could no longer hide the truth from me. I am not you, Maya. I am... different, as you know. Which means Applekill did not tell you when she told me.”
“And she didn't tell us when you did,” Request said. She appeared at Maya's side and helped her up. “Fuck. How could she keep a secret like that?”
“Easily,” Mission said. “It saved Maya's life.”
Maya looked down at her torso: the wounds were not getting worse. She shook her legs and arms, tried to return some blood to them. Grabbing a mug of water and downed it, quenching the burning in her throat.
“I... I need to think about this all.” Maya shook her body, which felt alien now she knew that somewhere, somehow, it was infested. “In light of this, Request, I agree that we need to step up the Acolytes. Mostly because I can't be trusted. Not whilst this fucking thing is in me. We'll talk through what we do tomorrow. For now, I need some time to myself.”
Request considered Maya for some time. “Maya, I think more of you now I know this.”
“What makes you say that?” Maya asked, perplexed.
The young girl put a hand on Maya's arm. “You gave your life for Aureu. Addled by this Taint, you fought the Disciples and whittled down ninety percent of their ranks. Maya, you're brilliant.”
“No. I should have done better. Could have done better. This should never have happened.”
Request laughed. “You idiot. Of course you should have done better. Everyone says that afterwards. Don't you think I've thought that a million times since Lun's Burst? What matters is that you did very well, so very well. I’m proud of you.”
Maya smiled. “Thank you, Request. You may go now.”
This young, brilliant, amazing Acolyte who had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with a Contegon Councillor, who survived more than one Disciple attempt on her life, smiled as she left.
Maya turned to Mission. “I need privacy from you two as well. Especially Applekill.”
“Of course,” Mission said. He was gone before his second word was finished.
Maya plonked herself down and stared ahead. She did not move, her mind in turmoil, for quite some time.
Epilogue
Maya enjoyed being back in her office. Now that the investigation into Lun's Burst and the night of the Declaration had been concluded, she was allowed in public locations. And, with a clean bill of mental health, she was a full Councillor once more. Standing in the thick dust, she looked around her uncared-for office and smiled. This felt like normality: this felt like she was getting back onto track.
Dirt entered just after her, the young man's officious face screwing up as he took in her office. “I'd not realised how much work would be required here.”
“That's a great way to talk about me on your first day,” Maya said, stepping inside.
Dirt sniffed. “I'm merely reporting the truth, sire.”
Maya laughed at the Cleric. His stuffiness might eventually annoy her, but it would also come in handy. To truly escalate the production of Acolytes, she would need help from people like him. Request couldn’t provide it – she was now deep into recruitment, finding people with talent and capability amongst the Stationless of Aureu – and it was not a job for an Acolyte, so a Cleric would have to do.
“What's on my agenda for today, then?” Maya asked.
“Besides a thorough cleaning for this office?”
“I don't believe that went through the proper channels, Dirt.”
Dirt made a note on his paper. “I'm allowed to add meetings I think are appropriate. Of course, the cleaning will be handled in your absence.”
Maya wanted to wave him off, to tell him not to be ridiculous, but that was the old her talking. She needed to devote every spare moment to the hiring, training, and deployment of Acolytes. Nothing else mattered. She and Request had agreed a motto for their activities: 'If it won't create or improve an Acolyte, it's not worth doing.' Cleaning wouldn't do either. It certainly wouldn't improve her mood.
“My schedule, Dirt?”
“There are meetings with the Cleric and Shield Councillors this afternoon, a regular catch-up with Request, a session with Portrait, and a game of Skulls with Note, Request, and the new Contegon Councillor.”
“Her name is Mint Piety,” Chain said.
“You have passed the test,” Dirt said archly. “Before all of that, though, you have the special meeting. The one you asked me to keep off the official schedule?”
Maya sat at her desk. “When is that?”
“Now, sire.” Dirt acquiesced. “I'll go and get enough dusters to sort this place out. May I hire a carriage?”
“No, you sod, you can carry them all yourself,” Maya said, laughing.
Dirt acquiesced with a wry grin and went to the entrance to her office. Two minutes of silent anticipation later, and there was a knock on the door.
“Enter,” Maya said.
The Contegon entered, stiff and tall. Maya had been told to expect the wound, but it was still shocking.
She rose as the Contegon entered, stepped around her desk. “You'll have to forgive the mess,” Maya said. “I've only just been allowed back into the office. It’ll take a few days for things to get back to normal.”
“Of course, sire.”
“There's no need to call me that. Not you, of all people.”
“Of course... Maya.”
Maya stood before the Contegon and looked her in the eye. “Your letter wasn't very specific. I've arranged everything I could. Now, do you mind telling me what you've found?”
Chain licked her lips and nodded. “I know where we can find more Heretics.”
Thank you for reading bo
oks on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends