The people she led needed her to be strong. They needed her to be special if they were to follow her against gods and monsters.
So she’d made a new goal:
Become the woman they hope I am. Become the Iron White.
Rhoda was still chattering, and Karris loved her for it nearly as much as for her amazing hands. “There is no part where you argue. Understand? I have fired more important patients, thank you.”
“Of course, Rhoda, I—wait, more important than the White?”
Rhoda grumbled. She put her hands around Karris’s neck as if to wring it. “Do not flag-wave bull in open field!” But she was amused. “My Iron White, here is what you should do: more sleep, less exercise so you can have regular moons by the time husband is back, more standing, some riding if you can fit it in, less wine to relax and more use of your room slave.”
I already use—oh. Karris had promoted one of Marissia’s underslaves, an intelligent young woman named Aspasia, to be her room slave in Marissia’s absence, but the woman served as chief slave and messenger, she slept at the foot of Karris’s bed, not in it.
Karris knew that in the absence of their husbands, it was not uncommon for women to use their female room slaves as their husbands did, for relief. Many nobles didn’t consider it being unfaithful for a woman to use a female slave that way, though they believed using a male slave or even a eunuch was. But Karris had never even considered it. As a Blackguard, she hadn’t had a room slave. That just had never been part of her life, except for her hating Marissia, who’d served so ably as Gavin’s room slave. Apparently excelling in all of a room slave’s duties and more.
Damn you, Marissia. The searches had turned up nothing. No one had seen her leave. The Blackguards swore she’d yelled fire, but hadn’t run past them or dangled a rope down the outside of the tower. She was just… gone. Nor had Karris found any money trail. Turgal Onesto had confirmed that Marissia had access to at least one account he knew of—but it hadn’t been touched. Nor had anyone seen her at the markets, at the docks… anywhere. It was as if the woman had evaporated.
Regretfully, Karris gave up on it. There were too many other things to do to waste more time on that one.
Find Marissia.
So when do I scratch off Gavin? Every criterion that justified crossing off Marissia applied to him. He’d disappeared exactly the same way and on the same day. The searches for him said exactly the same thing—nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Find Gavin.
She would never take that off the list. She would die first.
Karris paid Rhoda—insisting on it, since the woman had woken with her and this was in addition to her normal duties—and then threw on a robe. She hadn’t even noticed her own nudity as she’d walked across her room to grab the coins. She was alone here with only her physicker and the two Blackguards at the door.
After Rhoda left, Karris said, “Baya, what’s the problem?”
“High Lady?” he asked, pained.
“We’ve been in the field. We trained together. You’ve seen me naked dozens of times. You’re as nervous as a boy beckoned to a woman’s bed for the first time.”
He swallowed. “Honestly, High Lady?”
“Yes!”
“I, um, I guess you always notice. I mean, a man does, right? But I mean there’s noticing and noticing. And I guess it’s one thing to sort of… appreciate you when we were Blackguards together. I mean, I didn’t stare! Tried not to? But now that you’re holy, I… it makes me feel—”
She held up a hand. She needed to remember that when the White asked for total honesty, she sometimes actually got it. Some people took her orders as a religious obligation. “Just… pretend not to notice. That’s part of the work. Do better. Now get out. I’m angry with you. I’ll be going over papers for the next couple hours until my day begins. Adrasteia can handle watching an empty room and me until then.”
Baya Niel, who’d faced the green god with her, unflinching as death came for him, practically bolted from the room.
Karris went to her desk and sat. She gave the Blackguard hand signal: ‘Clear?’
Teia nodded. “Lot of work, just to get your own Blackguard to report to you.”
“It seemed you had more to say after you gave your official report. I had some more questions.” Days ago, Teia had finally given her report about how the Mighty had been attacked and then how they’d escaped in the presence of Commander Fisk, but Karris was certain there had been more to the story that she’d held back. It just hadn’t been the most important thing to find out about in the midst of all the crises she’d had to deal with every day for the last couple of weeks.
But Teia goggled. “Are you joking?”
“Whatever do you mean?” Karris asked.
“I set the emergency meeting signal twice! Even though Marissia told me I’m never supposed to set it more than once, in case I’m being watched. And you never came!”
Karris’s heart dropped into her stomach. “Marissia never handed over the list of emergency signals before she fled. That bitch!” What else had Karris missed?
Teia paled. “Orholam have mercy. What if those were in that package? I could be dead already if the Order was watching. And what do you mean she’s a bitch?”
“What?” Karris asked.
Karris and Teia had seen each other almost every day in the last weeks, but to keep their relationship as handler and spy secret neither of them had acted out of the ordinary. It must have been killing Teia.
“Just, just report,” Karris said. “Quickly.”
Luckily, Teia had obviously prepared herself for this in case she needed to report the essentials in only a few minutes. She told about the Lightguards’ murdering Goss, and the flight down the stairs, the flight back up the lifts, and out onto the roof. She backtracked briefly with “—And you know that Andross Guile had the White assassinated, right? He hired my master Murder Sharp to do it. I overheard him offer the contract myself.”
Karris hadn’t known. It was a punch in the guts. They’d had a quiet funeral for Orea Pullawr, according to her wishes—everything in her life had been public for decades, and she’d long demanded her parting be private. How Karris had wept, and thanked the old woman for the privacy so she could do so freely.
That soulless piece of shit, Andross. Orea had been dying anyway. Why hadn’t Andross Guile simply let her go?
Because that wouldn’t be a win over his old nemesis?
No, because he’d stacked the deck for who would become the next White, and he’d wanted to get his grandson approved as Prism-elect, and he feared that Orea Pullawr was going to stop him. By killing her before Sun Day, he’d gotten both—except that Orea had seen it coming.
She’d taken care of Karris. Prepared her.
“You said something about a package of letters?” she asked suddenly. “Wait… not bound with red ribbon?”
“On Marissia’s desk, yes,” Teia said.
Oh no.
Teia spun out the rest of the tale to Karris’s growing horror: The discovery of the escape lines, which Orea had given Kip a hint about. The flight to the docks. Kip’s hasty—Andross Guile–arranged—marriage to Tisis Malargos. Karris had known Tisis was gone, but none of her spies had been able to tell her why or where yet. The girl was supposed to be a hostage for Ruthgar’s good behavior. Scratch that item off the list, and not the way Karris had hoped.
Teia then told about her own decision to stay, then backtracked to tell how Tremblefist had been the one to blow up the cannon tower to save the Mighty’s ship from being sunk.
Karris had already learned about that one from other sources, but the loss was still fresh. Tremblefist had died for his young charges. Sacrificed himself for Kip.
Then Teia told her about kidnapping Marissia with Murder Sharp, and how the woman had tried to get the bundle of papers to Karris—and failed.
So Marissia wasn’t a traitor. She was a martyr.
The woman Karris had been d
enouncing as a bitch, and whore, and disloyal had been doing everything in her power to be Karris’s friend and faithful servant.
Damn me.
But why would Andross want Marissia? This Murder Sharp hadn’t known that Marissia was a spymaster. But that meant only that the Order didn’t know she was a spy. Andross had instructed Sharp to take her papers.
Maybe he knew or suspected what she was. Maybe he’d just gotten lucky.
Karris had felt as if she were drowning ever since she’d taken the white robe and watched a roomful of nobles prostrate themselves before her. To hear that someone had tried to throw her a lifeline—only to have it snatched away—was almost too much to bear.
I need to kill Andross.
Except he was untouchable. Too valuable. Too powerful. Irreplaceable.
“High Lady, I’m sorry to rush, but I want to make sure I tell you everything.”
Karris motioned she should go on, and then Teia told her about the Order’s offering to kill whomever she’d wanted killed and how she’d tagged and then untagged Quentin.
And there we got lucky, Karris thought.
“Have they followed up with you about that?” Karris asked. “Will they kill you for it?”
“I’ve got a plan,” Teia said. “But if I just disappear… I’ll do my best not to talk.”
It seemed surreal to be talking so blithely about such things. People didn’t just disappear from the safety of the Chromeria. That was Ilyta, the satrapy of traitors and pirates and cutthroats and bad men. A young girl like Teia shouldn’t have to be a warrior. She should be overanalyzing what she’d said to some boy who might reject her because of it, not analyzing what she’d said to some cultist who might murder her because of it.
This is the world we’ve both been thrust into now. Sink or swim, girl. And Orholam have mercy on my soul for throwing you in the water.
They talked a bit more, bringing each other up to speed and updating their dead drop and emergency drop procedures. Then, finally, Karris said, “We’re almost out of time. Any quick questions before I give you your new orders?”
“Yes. How’d you know that Quentin was telling the truth about High Luxiat Tawleb?”
Karris sniffed, amused. “Orea Pullawr left me many tools. Not only eyes and ears; I have fingers and blades as well. My spies learned of Quentin’s guilt. When he confessed, I had no one in High Luxiat Tawleb’s house, but I did have people in place to see if he would do what a guilty man would do when he hears a fellow conspirator has been seized. But Tawleb didn’t liquidate any of his goods or home, which either meant he was innocent or just intelligent. He did hire out an entire well-known smuggler’s ship, without telling the captain what he would carry.
“Within the hour, we had that smuggler sail ‘on other quick business.’ If Tawleb’s timing had been merely a coincidence, say, he was hiring a smuggler for some other illicit cargo that we didn’t know about because we’d never really examined him that closely, then he would have waited for his favorite smuggler to return. He didn’t. He went to another instead. This one we let stay. And then early the morning of the executions, one of my light fingers returned to me with Tawleb’s diary.
“Most clever men just can’t help but brag about their cleverness, even if only to themselves. His wording was always vague enough that alone, it could have meant anything. Combined with all the rest of the evidence, though, it was damning.” She paused, a chastened grin stealing over her lips. “But perhaps I shouldn’t blame anyone for boasting of their cleverness, now should I? I’ve just done it myself.”
“I won’t tell. Promise,” Teia said, and she grinned for the first time.
“It’s nice to see you smile, Teia,” Karris said. There was a quick rap on the door, and five beats later, having given Teia just enough time to take up a post against one wall, a stoic Baya Niel poked his head in. “Breakfast and correspondence, High Lady.”
“Two minutes while I finish these papers,” Karris said.
He closed the door. Karris looked at Teia, somber once more.
“You’ve no hint what happened to Marissia or even Gavin?” she asked Teia. As if the girl would have held that back.
“No word at all, High Lady. Nor way to ask without arousing suspicion. Else I would have done it, I promise. I care for both of them, too, you know.”
Karris did. She was silent for a long while, querying Orholam and her own heart if she was ready for this next step. Orholam, please, this is the last moment to let me know if I’m stepping out of your will with this.
But he said nothing, and she saw nothing except that it must be done.
“Teia, I hoped that we could defang the Order. But serpents make poor pets. They offered a murder to you, as a gift? And allowing one of their own to kidnap the Prism’s own room slave? These are not actions of a group that can be brought back into Orholam’s goodness. Teia, what you’ve told me changes what we need to do. Much as I wish we could concentrate our forces in one direction at a time, this war must be fought on two fronts simultaneously. Are you familiar with the bull luxiatica Ad abolendam?”
“Uh, something to do with the luxors?”
“It’s a letter sealed with lead giving certain powers to an office or a person. It’s too dangerous for you to carry anything like that, so if you are challenged, yours will be hidden in my desk—in the secret compartment you found. Please don’t give me occasion to have to produce it.” Dear Orholam, forgive me. Even as I denounce serpents, I’m creating one.
“What are you talking about?” Teia said. “Why would I need such a thing?”
Will they put me on Orholam’s Glare for this? Will I deserve it? Her face as still and hard as the Iron White she aspired to be, Karris said, “In secret, I’m conferring upon you the title of Malleus Haereticorum. ‘Hammer of Heretics.’ You are now named and empowered as a luxor, Teia. The first named in my lifetime, and let us hope the last. Your mission is no longer merely to infiltrate the Order of the Broken Eye. You are to destroy them. Do whatever you have to do—up to and including murdering innocents. The blessing and forgiveness of the Chromeria and the Magisterium entire rest upon you for every lie and sin you deem necessary to accomplish this task. This is war. Kill the Order, Teia. Kill them all.”
Chapter 37
“Pity that by saving the village, we’ve destroyed it forever,” Big Leo said. “The Blood Robes’ retribution for this is going to be ugly.”
The Mighty were seated around a small fire in a hollow on an island, listening to Sibéal Siofra report what had happened below the falls as they had fought above them. The Mighty and the Ghosts would rendezvous in the morning—the battles had concluded after sunset, so there was no way the skimmers could cover all the leagues of river between them.
Sibéal had come alone overland, sneaking through the woods with the natural ease of her people. Conn Arthur had known the Mighty would want to hear how things had gone as soon as possible.
And Big Leo, bless the glowering lunk, had had the presence of mind to decide that the most vital provision that must be stolen before they scuttled the barge was wine. They passed several bulging skins around the fire, feeling young and invincible.
Except for Ferkudi. He’d been selected to be the lookout, which meant sober. He was vocal about his martyrdom.
The distraction raid below the falls, Sibéal reported, had been a huge success. She confirmed that the villagers had sunk their own barges before the Blood Robes arrived, hoping to protect their stockpiled grains. The Blood Robes, however, had brought their barges. When the Ghosts of Shady Grove attacked, they’d overwhelmed the Blood Robes’ barges so quickly they hadn’t needed to sink them. Instead, sparing only a few people, they’d stolen them and their nearly full load of flour.
The rest of the Ghosts had pressed on to the warehouses, seizing them as well, because the resistance was so light that the conn thought the Blood Robes would smell a trap if he pulled back.
He’d wisely shored up his def
enses at the warehouses, avoiding a disaster when they discovered that there were over a thousand Blood Robes camped less than a league away—and coming fast.
“A thousand!” Cruxer exclaimed.
Instead of engaging in a hopeless battle, the Ghosts set fire to the warehouses and retreated before the reinforcements arrived.
Final tally: fifteen to twenty enemy killed. One dead and two wounded among the Ghosts. And all of the Blood Robes’ provisions either stolen or destroyed.
But Big Leo was right: The White King’s men wouldn’t believe that the opposing force had simply materialized without local support. There would be retribution. Conn Arthur had told the people to flee, but Sibéal said that some wouldn’t listen. Some never listen.
“We can’t let our fear of what they’ll do to retaliate dictate what we do,” Kip said. “If we let that work, they’ll do it again and again until we can do nothing at all.”
“On the other hand,” Ben-hadad said, “not to be coldhearted, but the more brutal the Blood Robes’ retaliation, the more people will come to our banners.”
“Which brings both help and trouble,” Cruxer said, “in logistics and loyalty. With the skimmers and a small platoon of drafters? We’ll be unstoppable raiders. I’ve got nothing against munds, but they’ll slow us down.”
Sibéal piped up, “Like people who haven’t trained to fight their whole lives slow you down?”
Cruxer looked at her flatly. “Yes. But your Ghosts have strengths that more than balance out your weaknesses. I don’t think that will be the case with… non-drafters.”
“We’ll deal with that when it comes,” Kip said. “For now, know that I see the problems coming. I don’t know what we should do about them yet, but I’ve got them in mind.” These were things he would need to discuss with Tisis first.