Catalyst Moon: Breach (Catalyst Moon Saga Book 2)

by Lauren L. Garcia

  Warning prickled Talon’s scalp, but she kept her voice cool. “No, Captain. But the sergeant is nothing if not diligent. It’s one of the reasons I promoted him.”

  “Diligent,” Cobalt repeated. “Of course, ser. I only ask because it struck me as odd.”

  “Has anyone else seen Stonewall inside the bastion alone and at unusual times?”

  Cobalt nodded. “Just this morning, a few minutes before we met. Redfox and Slate saw him leave, with a similar claim of diligence.”

  Not good—not at all—but Talon refused to give in to the worst judgment just yet. Still, it was difficult to keep her disappointment from bleeding into her voice. “Has anyone documented these ‘unscheduled patrols’ of the sergeant’s?”

  “Not to my knowledge. I thought it wise to bring them to your attention before taking any action.”

  “You thought correctly.”

  They both glanced down at the bastion; the two-storied mage dormitories sat silently in the growing light, casting a creeping shadow upon the surrounding wall. By now, a few mages were stirring, emerging from their private spaces and making their way to the workshops, animal pens, and garden. A day like any other.

  “Thank you for letting me know,” Talon replied. “I’m not sure what I’ll do with the information, but it’s good to have.” She turned away from the bastion to make her way to the stone steps.

  Cobalt caught up with her in two strides. “Let me know if you need anything else, ser. A statement from Gray, perhaps, or from Red–”

  “How is Redfox?” Talon broke in, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “Feeling any ill-effects, yet?”

  The captain did not hesitate at the change of subject. “She wants a burn, ser, as do all the cinders, but she says she can hold out a while longer. I fear that we’re going to use up our store of biris pretty soon.”

  “I’ll request more,” Talon said. Their conversation turned to more mundane topics, but she could not be at ease within.

  ***

  The knock came again. “Commander Talon?”

  Talon glanced up from her desk, frowning outside her window. It had been morning when she'd arrived at her office; now it looked to be about mid-afternoon, and the cup of tea she'd brought with her sat full and cold at her elbow.

  And yet she'd made little progress on the stacks of requests for mages' aid, sent through the Circle on behalf of beleaguered citizens. Charts of watch rotations and patrol schedules mingled with the hastily scrawled requests. She'd been considering the city guards' petition with what her sentinels could contribute during the Heartfire celebration in… was it really only a week from now? The city was already filling with people, which meant that everyone had to be on increased alert; more people meant more chances for something to go wrong. And although this was the reason that the city guards claimed they needed the sentinels’ aid, she knew the truth: the guards wanted to enjoy the festivities themselves. But service and sacrifice were not part of the sentinel oath for nothing, so Talon had agreed—as she agreed every year—to supplement the guards’ numbers with her forces.

  On top of all of that, Argent’s orders were still not carried out. She had sent two other squads out hunting for Sufani and any renegade mages; both squads had returned empty-handed. Apparently the thieving mage and the nomads had moved on without leaving so much as a speck of cloud dust behind.

  But Argent would not accept any excuse for failure, and Foley and the other mages would bear the brunt of his anger. One way or another, she had to find a way to carry out the High Commander’s orders – no matter what she thought of them.

  She smoothed her hand across the braid pinned to her head and called out. “Yes?”

  “You've a visitor, ser,” Hornfel replied through the closed door. “Mage Clementa.”

  Foley? Now? Their standing appointment wasn’t for another few days. Unease danced in her belly but she sat up straight in her chair. “See him in.”

  The door opened, allowing Hornfel and Foley to step into her office. Foley's remaining hand was bound with a hematite cuff, as was protocol, and he walked obediently to where the young sentinel directed him into the room.

  Hornfel shot her an inquiring glance so she nodded once. “You may unbind him and return to your duties.”

  After Hornfel departed, Foley took a seat opposite her desk, giving a cursory glance at the mug of tea before his brown eyes rested on her face. “I have reason to believe that one of your sentinels is involved in a romantic relationship with the mage Kalinda Halcyon.”

  Waves of fire and ice swept through Talon as horror and shock fought for dominance, and she gaped at the First Mage.

  Foley continued calmly, but quickly. “I came upon them this morning. I believe he was leaving her room.”

  “You're certain their interaction was… romantic?” she managed.

  “I saw them embrace,” he replied, quieter than before. “And… kiss. Quite passionately. It did not...” He exhaled slowly. “They seemed very familiar with one another, which leads me to believe this was not their first encounter.”

  Talon rose abruptly and turned to look out the window, where half a dozen of her squads were gathering to spar. She knew the answer, but had to confirm anyway. “Which sentinel?”

  “I was not close enough to make out more than a few general features, but I saw he had the coloring of someone from the south, possibly Indigo-By-the-Sea.”

  Something like bile rose in her throat even as the shock and horror faded into fury. Unscheduled bastion patrols, indeed, she thought bitterly. Idiot. I’ll kill him, myself. Even without Cobalt’s report that morning, Stonewall was the only logical culprit, given his history with this mage and his record of insubordination. She'd told herself he was headstrong and admired him, in a way, for giving voice to the feelings she could not. But this development was too deep a river to ford. His carelessness would bring death to every mage in the bastion; especially the mage seated before her, the man she'd worked so hard to protect.

  A thought occurred to her, and she looked back at Foley. “If you weren't close enough to identify the sentinel, how do you know the woman was Mage Halcyon?”

  His eyes dropped to his hook. “She has a very… distinctive limp that no other mage shares.”

  Ah, yes. The crippled mage. At least disposing of her would be that much easier, if matters came to that point.

  As for Stonewall…

  Despite Talon’s anger, his execution was a line she would not cross unless there was no other recourse. Should she reassign him to another garrison? She shook the idea away. Until she had a Sufani—or, even better, a renegade mage—to turn in, she couldn’t afford to draw Argent's notice. Even if Talon didn’t tell Argent, Stonewall’s new commander surely would. Reassigning a new officer, a man Talon had only just promoted, particularly in secret, would show poor decision-making on her part and give the High Commander further reason to turn his attention to Whitewater Bastion.

  “Thank you for telling me,” she said, settling back down. “Halcyon will be arrested, of course, but–”

  “No,” Foley broke in. The interruption was so unexpected that all she could do was blink at him. Seeing this, Foley continued quickly. “Eris and Gideon have only just returned, and the unrest among the others is palpable. Leave Kalinda alone, for now. Please.”

  “Unrest?” Heart hammering, she leaned forward, eyes fixed on him. “Is there talk of another escape attempt?”

  He shook his head. “I've heard nothing of the kind. I would tell you if I had. But none of them were pleased to see the Echinas arrested–”

  “They were returned unharmed,” Talon interrupted.

  “Two weeks of solitary confinement will leave scars on even the strongest heart,” he replied. “And Eris still wears a hematite collar. Both she and her husband are well liked among the bastion, and Eris is a friend to Kalinda. I would not advise further antagonizing any of them right now.”

  “I'm
only doing my duty,” she replied, stung at his criticism.

  “I know. But they only see you as their captor. If you start throwing mages behind hematite more often… I fear it will not end well for you.”

  “Is that a threat, Mage Clementa?”

  He did not match her sharp tone, only regarded her with a sorrowful expression. “You know it's not, Talesea.”

  She scowled, feeling very much a child again. “You know not to call me that.”

  “Your mother loved that name. I do, too.”

  “It’s not my name any longer.” Talon sighed, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her temple. Damn him for making so much sense. But his counsel was why she risked these meetings at all. “Very well. I'll take no action with Halcyon now, though I will ask that you keep an eye on her and let me know if you… uncover any further indiscretions on her part.” She leveled a stern glare at the older mage. “Know that my stance may change, depending on Halcyon's future actions. I’ll leave those up to you.”

  Foley nodded. “That's fair. I’ll speak with her. What of the sentinel? Do you know who he is?”

  A heavy feeling, as if her bones were made of lead, replaced the emotions of a few moments ago and Talon had a sudden, fierce longing for the burning energy of hematite flowing in her veins. Surely, as the commander of this garrison, she was entitled–

  Stop, she scolded herself. Her need for a burn was not yet dire. She could wait a while longer.

  “Their… relationship will not continue,” she said to Foley. “I'll handle Stonewall.”

  “Understood.” There was another pause while Foley studied her again, his brown eyes flickering across her, head to boots. “Are you well? You seem–”

  “I'm fine,” she broke in, getting to her feet.

  Sorrow flashed across his face before he shuttered it away. He was good at that, as she was. “As you say, Commander Talon.”

  He stood as well and held out his hand so she could cuff his wrist. One hand; one binder. Her stomach twisted at the sight of his stump and hook, and she knew—as she always knew—that her path was the right one. Surely, the gods would not have sent her here if it was the wrong place for her to be.

  Talon closed the binder at his wrist and led him to the door, where Hornfel lingered in the corridor. On a whim, she sent him to fetch a second sentinel to escort Foley back to the bastion. The young man scurried off, armor creaking as he went. When he was out of earshot, she looked back at the First Mage, whose face she knew better than her own. His beard was neat, as it had always been, but every time she saw him, there was more gray in the bronze strands.

  “You know better than to trouble yourself with me, Da,” she said quietly.

  Foley said nothing at first. Only when the sound of approaching sentinels echoed down the stone corridor did he seem to find the words he wanted. He met her eyes and murmured, “Perhaps, but some things are too deeply ingrained to forget.”

  She did not reply. The others came and took him away. Talon returned to her office, alone but for the weight of her armor.

  Twenty.

  After a city patrol that lasted all morning, Stonewall and his squad had trained throughout the afternoon and evening, with a meal in between. His arms and legs burned with fatigue, his back ached and he had a new set of bruises on his side from a particularly harsh sparring session with Cobalt's squad. A good soak in the baths had removed the dirt and helped soothe his muscles, and dinner had added a pleasant weight to his belly. He should have been more than able to fall into bed and drift to sleep.

  But he only stared into the darkness of his room, listening to the steady pace of his own heart as he rubbed the river stone between his palms. Its weight was normally a comfort; a reminder of his and Kali’s journey to Whitewater City and of the bond that had grown between them. He could still see the wry, hopeful look on her face as she held out the stone, still wet from being submerged beneath the creek they’d stopped beside. A peace offering, she’d called it. He wrapped his fist around the smooth stone until it grew hot beneath his skin.

  He wanted to go to Kali now, but he'd gone twice this past week, though he'd not planned on either trip. They had agreed that his visits should be sporadic, so as not to draw overmuch attention to the time he spent in the bastion.

  In spite of his exhaustion, restlessness filled him. He tossed and turned upon his sleeping pallet until he could bear it no more, then he donned his gear out of habit and slipped from his room. At first, he had no destination in mind, save away from the bastion, so he would not be tempted by his dark-haired mage. Of course, he had to pass by the bastion gates once he entered the garrison's courtyard, but he forced himself to ignore the urge to step through those gates. Deliberately not looking toward the bastion, he crossed the courtyard and ascended the stone steps to the upper level.

  The White River's roar was faint but steady. Stonewall’s boots made slight scuffing sounds against the flagstones as he approached the short wall that surrounded the upper level, where he could see the waterfall and the city spread alongside it. Judging by the position of the moons, it was well past midnight. The waxing, misshapen mage moon cast a silvery glow over the city, while Atal hung beside her, only a faint line against the inky sky. Even when they were in the sky together, they never met.

  Kali.

  Her smile stuck in his mind, along with the sound of her voice and her delighted laughter during their stolen moments. Even now, his foolish heart tumbled over itself at the memories.

  This will end badly, his better sense whispered. For both of you. Better to end it now, rather than risk harming her further. There is no other honorable way.

  He exhaled sharply, his breath expelling in a plume of pale fog, and he focused on the city below rather than his own dark thoughts. Surely there was a solution he had not yet discovered. He needed clarity to see the way ahead. He needed guidance to find his path and the courage to travel it. He needed balance. On another hill, in the heart of the city, moonlight bathed the temple of the One.

  Something in his heart released and he turned abruptly for the steps once more, descending as quickly as he could to hurry across the moon-washed courtyard. He reached the garrison's outer gates that led to the city, and nodded to the guards on duty, one of whom was Gray.

  “Where are you going at this hour?” she asked.

  “The One,” he answered, perhaps a bit too earnestly.

  She rolled her eyes as she unlatched the gates. “Of course you are.”

  ***

  The temple of the One was open on all sides, supported with rows of marble columns many times taller than Stonewall. As such, it was cold, but fires within a dozen or so massive iron braziers warmed any supplicants that might find their way to the One on this night. Firelight flickered off of the bronze deity statues set at intervals along the interior perimeter; the gods seemed to dance in the darkness as Stonewall passed by each one on his way to the main altar.

  Mara stood with hands spread as if in offering, long hair sprinkled with flowers and trailing down to her bare feet. Her statue here was simple, but since she was one of the more popular deities, there was an entire temple devoted to her elsewhere in the city.

  The goddess Amaranthea stood as if captured in a moment of euphoria, a wide smile upon her face. Small lanterns were built into her hands so that she seemed to hold flickering flames; one hand hovered over her heart and the other reached toward the sky.

  Llyr stood in place, goblets in each hand while he poured glass “water” from one into the other. As in the fountain in the Eye, copper coins rested upon the ground beneath his feet.

  Atal stood tall, clutching a sword and facing the viewer with a combative expression. Everything about his posture radiated strength and readiness, but Stonewall found this rendition menacing as well. Perhaps it was due to the artisan who'd crafted the statue. Nevertheless, Stonewall moved on quickly.

  Nox, too, held a weapon: a spear with the tip
outstretched like a pointing finger. The bronze below the goddess had been fashioned to mimic moving water rippling around her ankles and she wore a hood that concealed her features. A small human skull dangled from her belt to represent the Laughing God.

  Only two remained. Stonewall paused longest to study this portrayal of his patron god. Tor was often shown in supplication and this statue was no different. Here, Tor knelt with his head bowed, hands clasped at his forehead. His sword was thrust into the bronze ground before him, but the god did not touch it. A helmet, which all sentinels’ helmets were modeled after, covered most of his features, leaving only his nose and the stern set of his mouth visible.

  Most extraordinary, though, was a set of spiraled horns that rose from the helmet, curving gently around themselves, almost forming a circle. These were made of hematite; the glossy, dark silver reflected the firelight. As a boy in Pillau, Stonewall had always loved to trace the spirals with his fingertips, and had been disappointed to learn that actual sentinel helmets bore no horns. Now he checked the urge to touch the statue, but did allow himself to appreciate that Tor’s sword was made of Canderi steel; the statue he’d known in Pillau was not nearly as fine. Apparently the Circle clergy in Whitewater City were not short on funds.

  The god Ea's expression was gentle; the god’s face was neither masculine nor feminine, exuding only a quiet confidence. Ea did not kneel, but sat before a bronze tree, hands resting on folded knees. This statue, more so than the others, was delicately wrought, complete with small silver, bronze and copper animals resting on and around the genderless god. Birds and butterflies rested upon Ea's shoulders, a lycanthra sat at Ea's side, and a snake and hare curled together in Ea's lap. Dozens of other animals—and several human forms as well—had been worked into the tree, intricate enough so that at first glance, they looked like bark.

  Once past the statues, Stonewall approached the altar of the One. While certain elements of the altar were the same, regardless of where the temple was located, each temple's altar was different, crafted by local Circle members to reflect their view of the One. Here, a polished, round, wooden frame rested atop a sculpted wooden base. Within the frame hung a faceted crystal about the size of a woman's fist, placed so that when the sun hit it just so, the refracted light would cast hundreds of rainbows throughout the temple. Scattered around the base were offerings left by those who'd come seeking solace and guidance: flower petals, seeds and berries, coins, bits of incense and various other trifles.