The Inquisitor lunged.
With blinding speed, Alphonse’s blade swept upward. It deflected the Inquisitor’s weapon to within a hair’s breadth of Alphonse’s shoulder. In one fluid motion, Alphonse rotated his blade and stepped forward, driving his guard into the overextended Inquisitor’s chin. The Inquisitor’s head snapped back, and he collapsed at Alphonse’s feet.
Alphonse shook his head. “Seems he skipped the class on feint retreat—what are the chances?”
The second Inquisitor eyed his fallen comrade in stunned disbelief.
Alphonse saluted him with an intricate flourish. “En garde, sir.”
The man blanched and dropped in a senseless heap.
“That’s unexpected,” Alphonse said. “Apparently, I’m even more impressive than I thought.”
Dona shot Alexi a suspicious glance, but he just winked.
Alphonse kicked the blades away from the fallen Inquisitors. He handed one to Alexi and one to the Monsignor.
“Hey,” Dona said. “Why does Alexi get one? He can’t even walk.”
“True, but he has at least some meager training, which I’m sure you’ll agree is important. Besides, you’ll have your hands full helping him.”
“Typical,” she muttered.
Outside, the riot continued. Hordes of angry students surged through the streets. Small pockets of armed Inquisitors pushed through the fracas, dodging thrown debris and clubbing any students they caught into submission. Dona’s group skirted the edges of the violence and kept to the shadows of buildings. Despite their efforts, a stray rock struck the Monsignor in the back. It took several moments for him to catch his breath, and Dona feared he’d broken a rib, but he’d soon recovered enough to signal they should keep moving. They made better progress after that, finally reaching a spot the protesters had deserted. Desperate to find a safer place to wait things out, they rushed around the next corner, only to find themselves facing an advancing wall of armed Inquisitors. They ducked back immediately, but they had clearly been spotted, and the Inquisitors were moving fast.
Alphonse brandished his sword. “You go. I’ll delay them.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Alexi said. “They have crossbows.”
Dona yanked on the first door she came to. “There’s no time for that. We have to get inside.” The door was locked, but she persisted, pounding with both hands. “Let us in.” A tiny grate opened in the door, and an eye peered out.
“Open up.” Dona cried.
The grate closed again.
“So much for the direct approach,” Alexi said.
“Over here,” a voice called out. “Quickly.”
Across the street, a wizened man waved to them from beside an open door. The pounding beat of marching Inquisitors grew louder.
They rushed for the door, which the old man slammed and bolted the instant they’d crossed the threshold.
Several small desks were scattered about the tightly shuttered room. A large drafting table sat off to one side, and a door at the back led to another room.
When his eyes adjusted, Alexi recognized the pinched little man who’d beckoned to them as Old Mr. Brent, the University Bursar.
“Thank you,” Dona said. “That was too close.”
Brent peered disapprovingly over the tops of his spectacles. “Sister, forgive me if this is none of my business, but what on earth were you thinking going out in the middle of that?”
She nodded toward Alexi’s swollen ankle. “I was called to the aid of the injured. When called, I go.”
The Monsignor stepped forward. “Thank you for opening the door. It pains me to say, but nowadays most would not have bothered.”
Brent snorted. “Few enough are called to serve with the Sisters. I can at least do my part to preserve the ones we have. The name is Randolph Brent. Now—young master Reysa I know already from his errands on behalf of Professor Reston—who, may I ask, are the rest of you?”
Dona struggled unsuccessfully to recall her alias. “I am called Sister Cappelletti. Allow me to introduce my friends, Armand and Alphonse.
Brent nodded. “Pleased to meet you. It may be some time before the streets are safe again. I apologize the office is not designed for lounging, but at least while the school is closed there are plenty of available chairs. If you’ll excuse me, there is work to be done and no one but me to do it.”
Brent took a seat on his stool and began wading through neatly organized mounds of paperwork.
The four of them selected desks at the opposite end of the room from Brent, ostensibly to avoid disturbing him in his work. Despite Brent’s presence, Dona could wait no longer for answers, and she hoped the background noise of the ongoing riot would cover her whispers.
“What’s going on here? Why are you dressed that way, and why are you running from your own Inquisition?”
The Monsignor sighed. “The short version is that I’ve run afoul of a political opponent who outranks me.”
“Outranks you? I thought your brother was the Primal?”
The Monsignor laid his cane across the desk. “He is, but he’s ailing, and I think Isrulian is betting he won’t survive long enough for the backlash from framing me for heresy to catch up with him.”
Alphonse nearly dropped his blade. “Your brother is the Primal?”
“As far as I know, he still is. I was hoping to lie low and pray that my brother lasts long enough for the Ordinal’s transgressions to catch up with him.”
“Is that why they put you with the high-risk prisoners?” Alexi asked. “Because they framed you for heresy?”
“Oh, I doubt they would have chosen to put me there if they’d known who I was. While I’d intended to simply stay out of sight until Isrulian was brought to justice, the recent fires in the Hathaway compound changed my mind. You see, I’m still trying to identify the heretics responsible for the disturbances at the University. Since it seems Isrulian has no intention of doing so, I was hoping to find evidence at the site of the most recent fire, trusting that my disguise would be sufficient to avoid suspicion. Unfortunately, my loitering in the area was deemed suspicion enough. I was elevated to high-risk status when they discovered I was wearing my stole under my cloak. Stupid, I know, but after all these years, I feel naked without it. Apparently, they’ve had issues with heretics masquerading as clergy.”
He raised an expectant eyebrow at Dona. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
She blushed. “It’s a long story.”
“It would seem we have time.”
“It started when the Ordinal took my friend Miranda hostage.”
“Hostage?”
“Well, hostage might be too strong a term, but she certainly didn’t choose to be his ‘guest’ as he put it.”
“Do you have any idea why the Ordinal would be interested in your friend?”
“Her father is the Constable.”
“Oh, I see. Is the Crown already responding then?”
“I don’t know, and my friends and I didn’t think we had the luxury to wait, so a friend and I dressed up like this as a diversion while some other friends attempted a rescue.”
“Why would you think dressing as a Sister would be a diversion? Given that the campus infirmary is run by the Sisters, I’d expect they’d be a frequent sight.”
Dona scratched her ear. “Well, it wasn’t so much the habit. It was probably more the plague.”
“Plague?”
Dona’s mouth went dry. “It wasn’t only my idea, you know.”
“What wasn’t your idea?”
“The plague. We needed a diversion that would be effective.”
“Oh, what have you done?” The Monsignor bowed his head and covered his eyes.
“We had no choice.”
“Am I to understand that you exploited the Sisters’ good name to spread false rumors of a plague?”
Dona shrugged. “It did make for an effective diversion.”
“But at wha
t cost? I suppose we need look no further to explain the riots.”
“You don’t think they are rioting over that, do you?”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised. It touches on a very base fear, and it’s not like they’re permitting anyone to leave.” He abruptly turned his attention to the cane. “Hello, did you see that?”
“See what?” Dona asked.
“One of the metal rings—I think it just turned.”
The Monsignor took a closer look. “Sure enough, these rings rotate.”
Dona leaned against Alexi for a better view. “What do the symbols mean?”
“I haven’t really had a chance to look.”
Alphonse tilted his head. “You never examined your own cane? Wouldn’t that be a little like failing to test your own blade for an edge?”
“It’s not his cane,” Dona said. “One of the Hathaway Professors accidentally left it behind.”
The Monsignor squinted to make out the symbols. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure it was an accident.”
“Why do you say that?”
The Monsignor placed the cane’s metal tip on the floor and worried the thongs holding the leather sheath. “Because of this,” he said, slipping it off.
He revealed a glimmering golden skull, beautifully crafted, its eyes set with rubies. As he moved it, the skull seem to grin mischievously.
“Whoa,” Alphonse said. “Why would he want to leave that behind?”
Alexi whistled low. “Because, regardless of its value, a Chervillian symbol is a bad thing to be caught holding during an Inquisition.”
Brent’s gasp startled all of them. He’d approached unnoticed during the discussion and was now staring at the golden skull, his eyes wide, his expression skeptical, as though he simply could not believe what he was seeing.
“The Morgatuan.”
“I think that’s what they called it,” the Monsignor said.
“This thing has a name?” Dona asked.
The Monsignor nodded. “It was among the pieces of regalia recovered when the Chervillian fortress that pre-dated the University fell to Trifienne and the Church. It’s not so much a cane as a scepter.”
Dona shook her head. “What was a Hathaway Professor doing with such a thing? It makes no sense.”
“Based on its history, I can venture a guess. The Morgatuan was taken by the Trifienne Crown as spoils of war. As I understand it, Hathaway research is also funded by the Crown.”
“Even if you think Professor Garamon was researching it for the Crown,” Alexi asked, “why would he take it with him to be interrogated?”
“Oh, I’m sure he didn’t choose to take it with him. My guess is that his office was in a building affected by the recent fire. He probably rescued it, only to be arrested before he could find a safe place to stash it.”
“But why would the Crown spend money researching a cane?” Dona asked.
The Monsignor peered closely at the scepter. “A very good question.”
The door was struck by something so hard it shuddered. The blow was followed by a hoarse cry. “Open up, in the name of the Inquisition.”
The Monsignor’s eyes darted from the Morgatuan to the door, and then to Brent. “You don’t by any chance have a back door, do you?”
Brent shook his head. “Very few of the older buildings had them.”
Another resounding blow—this time, the whole building shuddered.
“Just a moment,” Brent cried.
Dona leapt up. “They’re going to break the door.”
“Not to worry,” Brent said. “This is the Bursar’s office. That door is built to take abuse—even a battering ram—at least for a while. We have some time, but none to waste. Quickly, this way.”
He led them to a back room stacked floor-to-ceiling with decades of well-organized records. One entire wall consisted of a great metallic door boasting numerous dials and keyholes.
Another thud rattled the building. Unperturbed, Brent leafed through a file drawer. From a folder, he retrieved a brass key. He repeated the process several times, retrieving keys of various shapes and sizes.
Another thud, louder still.
“Was that the door cracking?” Dona asked.
“Patience,” Brent hissed. He spun dials and turned keys according to rules he didn’t see fit to share. At last, he cranked a metal wheel in the door’s very center, and FFit creaked open.
“Welcome to the University Vault,” he said, stepping inside. The others followed, single file.
Alexi peered through the gloom. “It’s huge.”
The room contained an even larger collection of files and supplies, as well as coffers of coin labeled with the flags of various nations.
“All very impressive,” Dona said. “But with no back door, how does it help us?”
In the distance, they finally heard the main door give way. “This is the Inquisition. You’re all under arrest,” a voice called faintly.
“We shall see,” Brent said. He caught hold of the vault door and tugged it closed.
As it locked into place, Dona felt a twinge of panic. Darkness enveloped them. The closed Vault blocked all sound—all evidence of the world outside.
“When do you suppose it will be safe to leave?”
“What do you mean?” Brent asked.
Dona struggled to reign in her growing unease. “I mean, how long will we have to wait before the Inquisition leaves and we can open the door again?”
“I don’t think you understand, “Brent said. “The door opens only from the other side.”
Chapter Nine
Fiat Lux
Cartier stepped forward to greet the Crown’s delegation as they passed beneath the arch that had once held Exidgeon’s gates. Although the cries of rioters still echoed throughout the University, Cartier smiled as though he didn’t hear a thing.
“Count Laslo. A great pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, Father. Will His Ordinence be joining us?”
“I’m afraid His Ordinence is currently indisposed.”
Laslo frowned. “Nothing serious, I hope?”
“Nothing a little time spent in the care of the good Sisters can’t fix. Has the Crown had a chance to review my proposal?”
“It is being considered as we speak. While I expect the Crown will be pleased with it, I admit to scratching my head at the abrupt change in plan.”
“It’s simple. Upon further reflection, we thought it prudent for the Crown to play a more pivotal role in managing University affairs during this difficult time. After all, Exidgeon clearly falls within the Crown’s jurisdiction.”
“Jurisdictional issues are often among the most difficult to resolve, particularly when they involve the collective spiritual well-being. In the past, the Church has frequently claimed the right to intervene without secular interference. Am I to understand that, with respect to this matter, you don’t share that view?”
“Come now, Your Excellency. Like you, I’m Trifienne born and bred. The Crown and the Church have a long history of mutual respect and beneficial collaboration. Who better to entrust with the welfare of our people?”
Laslo raised an eyebrow. “So, the riots were more than you bargained for, eh?”
Cartier shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“I figured. Is the Church planning a total withdrawal, then?”
“Oh, not at all, Your Excellency. I’m serious about undertaking a coordinated effort. I’m sure neither of us would care to see the University become a hotbed for heresy. To that end, the Church will happily provide the manpower and expertise to conduct a thorough investigation, while the Crown uses its authority to keep order among its citizens and protect University property.”
“That’s very generous of you. I anticipate the Crown will be amenable. Shall we set it to parchment?”
“The sooner the better. Step into my office and we’ll finalize the terms.”
Laslo tilted his head to gauge the distance of the riote
rs’ cries. “Indeed, the sooner the better.”
. . . . .
Brent shuffled through the vault’s contents, his frustration growing. “Consecrated damnation.”
“What are you looking for?” Dona asked.
“My lucifers. I’ve kept a box of them in here for years, just in case something like this happened. It had to be that Hanstead boy. More than once I’ve caught him with the smell of tobacco smoke about him. Now I know how he was lighting up without a lamp. I suppose it’s too much to hope for that any of you happened to bring some with you?”
There was a long moment of silence.
“Figures,” Brent muttered.
“Perhaps it’s just as well,” the Monsignor said. “A fire in this confined space could foul the air, and there’s no telling how long we may need to breathe it.”
“How are we going to see anything, then?” Brent snapped.
“What do we really need to see?” Alexi asked. “We’re locked in a vault, and the only way out is for someone to open the door from the other side.”
“So, you plan to just sit here and wait for someone to rescue you?”
“What other choice have you given us?”
“I suppose you would have preferred explaining away your possession of the Morgatuan to those friendly Inquisitor folks who battered down my front door.”
“How did you know about this Morgatuan thing anyway?” Dona asked. “Did Professor Garamon tell you about it?”
“Well, it’s not like it isn’t distinctive.”
“Are you saying it’s a matter of common knowledge?” Alexi asked.
“Is that really so odd? After all, your friend here seemed to know a thing or two about it as well.”
“Armand has a prodigious memory for stray facts,” Dona said.
“Speaking of whom, I don’t believe we’ve met—and I know every Professor on the payroll.”
“I’m just visiting,” the Monsignor said.
“Are you, now? And I suppose you stumbled across the Morgatuan and ended up visiting this old Bursar by mere happenstance?”
“Is there some scenario you think would be more plausible?”
“Do you really think we’d be here if there weren’t? I saw you reading the Morgatuan’s symbols. It was barely a week ago that Professor Reston was here, no doubt making certain he had found the right spot. That would certainly explain his strange behavior.”
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