“The right spot for what?”
“Don’t patronize me. I’ve served a lifetime never daring to hope this moment would come. Spare me the fabrications and just get on with it. Use it.”
“You mean the Morgatuan?”
“Of course. What else could I mean?”
“There’s only one small problem,” the Monsignor said. “I can’t see it.”
“In that case, I’m afraid we are doomed.”
“Won’t someone come to open the vault once they realize you’re missing?” Alphonse asked.
“The Chancellor’s office may still have the directions I sent them some 40 years ago, but even if they do, it won’t help us.”
“Why not?”
“Because they are wrong.”
“You sent the wrong directions?”
“Chancellors come and go. Allowing unconditional access posed too great a risk.”
“There may be another way,” Dona said. “What if Armand could see the Morgatuan?”
“Without lucifers to light a lamp?”
“Alexi? Will you do it?”
Alexi gasped. “Dona, don’t.”
“We have no choice. It’s either that or starve to death.”
“I can’t. I don’t have the right.”
“If you’re worried about the others, you might stop to consider that the entire University is being held hostage by the Inquisition. Their discovery is just a matter of time.”
“I won’t do it.”
Dona took his hand and pressed her locket into it. “Once, in a sumptuous restaurant, a handsome man I barely knew asked me to take a leap of faith with him. I didn’t know where he would lead me, but I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be to safety. And yet, when he asked, I jumped with both feet. I jumped because, even though I didn’t know the danger, I’d peered into his eyes, and thought I knew him. Wherever he was going, I couldn’t bear the thought of being left behind. I know what I’m asking isn’t easy, and it seems risky, but that’s what life is. We don’t have the luxury of knowing every little consequence each time we make a decision, but that doesn’t mean we should ever stop choosing.”
“I can’t betray them.”
“Alexi, if you don’t help us, we are all going to die, including the Monsignor. Do you really think your friends will fare better with Isrulian?”
“Monsignor?” Brent asked incredulously. “What do you mean by Monsignor?”
“Oops,” Dona said.
“But—but—the Morgatuan.”
“We never intended to mislead you,” the Monsignor said.
“But the Inquisition…they pursued you.”
“A minor misunderstanding…”
“A whole lifetime—wasted.”
“I’m sure this seems worse than it is.”
“Whole generations—lost.”
“Look, it can’t be that bad.”
“You’ll never use it. Not while I draw breath, heathen.”
A crash echoed in the darkness as Brent threw himself at the Monsignor’s voice.
“Where are you, heathen? You can’t hide from me forever.”
There was another crash and a curse as Brent stumbled over something.
The sibilant sound of steel on steel echoed through the vault as Alphonse drew his blade. “Stop right there, old man.”
“Alphonse, no—” Dona’s cry was cut short as Brent collided with her.
“Ooomph,” the Monsignor grunted.
“There you are, heathen.”
“Monsignor,” Dona cried. “Did he hurt you?”
“Let go, heathen. How dare you defile this sacred relic?”
“Unhand him,” Alphonse said—his blade useless in the dark.
Brilliant golden light illuminated Alexi’s pale features with an almost beatific radiance. He held the glowing locket aloft.
Instantly, Alphonse’s blade found its mark just beneath Brent’s chin. Ever-so-slowly, Brent relinquished his hold on the artifact.
Brent squinted against the light. “What sorcery is this?” His eye strayed from the glowing locket to Dona, who now stood at Alexi’s side, and his jaw dropped in sudden realization. “What a fool I’ve been. Who else could bend a Monsignor to her will? Why else would a Monsignor flee the Inquisition? The Mistress lives. She has returned.”
Alexi finally finished mouthing his mnemonic, and with a wave of his hand, the overwrought Bursar collapsed.
The Monsignor stooped to examine Brent and was relieved to find the man still breathed. He then eyed Alphonse, Alexi, and Dona in turn. At last, he took a seat on a file cabinet, resting the Morgatuan across his knee.
“Well,” he said, “this is a little awkward, isn’t it?”
. . . . .
Laitrech hummed to himself as he turned his key in the lock of the ancient door that stood as the first line of defense for the Chapel Ordinalis. His spirits were high of late. He hadn’t realized how much the dread of Armand’s impending Ascendency weighed on him until it was canceled. And he hadn’t even had to lift a finger.
He’d already closed the door before he realized something was amiss. He’d caught a dim impression in the hallway in the flicker of the lamplight, but it was so unexpected that it took a few seconds to register. He locked the door anyway.
“You’re taking quite a risk,” he said.
“Hardly.”
As Laitrech’s eyes adjusted, he could make out the speaker sitting squarely in the middle of the hallway, leaning against the unseen barrier with both knees pulled up. The figure slowly rose, throwing back a heavy cloak to reveal priestly vestments, a pate of close-cropped white hair, and an ancient face.
“How is he?”
Laitrech slipped his key into his pocket. “Stable, but weaker than he was. He took his brother’s desertion pretty hard.”
“How much weaker?”
“It’s hard to say. Some is mood, and some is illness. At this stage, they can be difficult to distinguish. Why are you here?”
“This charade has gone on long enough. I need access.”
Laitrech was beginning to regret his dealings with this old has-been. Though the deal’s payoff was improbable at best, even a slim chance of success had been too tempting to pass up—he still shuddered when he imagined the consequences of the promised information falling into Lavicius’s hands instead. But Thurman’s repeated delays only bolstered Laitrech’s initial suspicions—they would never be able to deliver. And after making him wait this long, they had temerity to make additional demands? He wouldn’t have entertained the request even if current circumstances hadn’t made granting access unthinkable.
“I’ll see what I can manage.” Laitrech said. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you again.”
The priest’s aged eyes narrowed. “I meant while he’s asleep.”
Laitrech frowned. “What on earth for?”
“I need to diagnose him myself. Your vague descriptions are of no use to me.”
“That’s easily arranged, assuming you fulfill your end of the bargain first.”
“You’ll have it just as soon as I get the raw materials.”
“Forgive me, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Last I heard, your lackey succeeded in buying himself a fake soul. Correct me if I’m wrong, but that is a key component, right?”
“A fake? How do you know?”
“Because I sent Isrulian to test it.”
“And you relied on his judgment?”
“It’s a pretty simple test. Even he could probably manage it.”
“Then I definitely can’t afford to wait any longer. If you force me to find another way, the deal will be off.”
Laitrech snorted. “If you can’t deliver the goods, it hardly matters, does it?”
“What if I were to give you the scroll now and deliver the rest when I could?”
“You miss the point. How can I verify the scroll’s authenticity without a suitable test?”
“You might want to
hedge your bet. I’m not getting any younger. If something happens to me, the knowledge dies with me.”
“Not to worry—the Chapel’s repository of knowledge is vast. It’s only a matter of time before I discover what I seek there. Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’ve inspired me to take another look.”
Laitrech held aloft his Relic and spoke the prayer to abate the Bastion. Behind him, his elderly companion’s lips moved as well—but the words they formed did not match Laitrech’s.
The Ordinal held out his hand to confirm his success. When it met no resistance, he bowed superciliously. “I trust you’ll be able to find your own way out.”
With that, he strode off down the hallway toward the Chapel.
. . . . .
Alexi’s eyes glistened in the locket’s golden glow. “I’m sorry, Dona, but I couldn’t stand by and let him attack the Monsignor. I know how much you wanted to be a professor someday. I’ve ruined everything.”
Dona took his face in her hands. “Alexi Reysa, that was the bravest, most selfless thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”
His mouth trembled. “I’ve betrayed us all. If we don’t die here, the Inquisition will make us wish we had. Either way, our lives are over.”
Dona met his gaze with a look of sympathy and admiration. “Not yet…” Her own eyes began to well as she gently brushed Alexi’s tears away. “There’s one more thing I have to do before my life can be over.” She pulled him close, willing their lips to meet. For a long bittersweet moment, they stood lost in each other’s arms.
Finally, Alexi pulled away and faced the Monsignor. “What happens now?”
The Monsignor sighed. “I’m sorry, Alexi. This is a very serious matter. There’s only so much I can do.”
Dona took a step forward. “But you’re the Inquisitor General. He was trying to help you.”
“And I feel terrible about that, but this goes far beyond just heresy. At least one man is dead, several buildings are destroyed—and I shudder to think what’s going on outside right now.”
“You can’t possibly believe Alexi had anything to do with those things.”
“I’m not sure I know what to believe anymore.”
“Who died?” Alexi’s voice was hoarse.
“A professor. His name was Amehtan Shoruga.”
“How?”
“He was being held for questioning about an incident involving Phrendonic Heresy that took place at the Hathaway compound—he took his own life.”
“Forgive me, Monsignor, but doesn’t that say more about the Inquisition than it does about Alexi?”
“Had there been no heresy in Exidgeon, there would have been no Inquisition. Shoruga would still live.”
“And had this Inquisition been anything remotely like the one you described in class, he’d have had no need to kill himself.” Dona jabbed a finger toward the vault door. “You saw what they’re doing out there. You can certainly imagine what they did to this poor professor of yours. For the love of all that’s holy, look what they’ve done to you. How can you support what they do to people and still live with yourself?”
Alexi put his hand on her arm. “Don’t.”
Dona pulled away. “Don’t defend the finest man I know from the one who should be?”
The Monsignor shifted uncomfortably. “The Church suffers from all the same flaws and foibles of those who make it up. Although not perfect, the vast majority of us are honorable men who strive not only to make this world a better place, but also to protect and prepare the souls of our charges for the next.”
“Like you protected and prepared Shoruga’s?”
“No one regrets that more than I, but Phrendonic Heresy is insidious. It seduces its victims with the promise of power and at the same time provides the ability to conceal it. And if we do manage to track it down, it gives the heretics weapons against which we have little defense. Casualties are inevitable.”
“How is that any different from what Isrulian does?” Dona asked.
The Monsignor’s jaw dropped. “You know about that?”
“He flaunts his power like a badge of honor, and no one has any defense against it, apparently not even the Primal’s brother. You’re no different from the people you torture, unless, of course, you count the torture.”
Alexi took Dona’s arm. “Stop. You’re only making it worse.”
“But I’m right.”
Alexi gave her a wild look. “He doesn’t agree.”
The words seemed to hang in the air. Dona heard Hepplewhite’s voice admonishing her once more: A manifest injustice can be a powerful motivating force, but if, and only if, the vast majority of your audience is on board about the injustice.
Suddenly she was ashamed. She swallowed, took a step back and straightened her dress. “Very well then, as you wish.”
Alexi faced the Monsignor. “Please—don’t hold her defense of me against her. She didn’t mean those things.”
Dona touched Alexi’s arm. “Don’t—this is my responsibility.” She took a deep breath. “Monsignor, even when I gave you no reason to, you have only ever treated me with kindness. I repaid you by holding you accountable for the misdeeds of the entire Church. I know I don’t deserve it, but I am sincerely sorry, and some day, I hope you can forgive me.”
The Monsignor eyed Dona pensively. “Miss Merinne, you are a difficult person to know. The very first time we met, I was forced to face my lifelong failure to address the injustices that had been visited by the Church, not just on women in general, but on my own mother.”
“I know, Monsignor, and—”
The Monsignor held up his hand. “I’m not done yet. Today, you ask me to justify how what we seek to prevent is any different from what we actually do, and once again, I find myself at a loss. I am somehow left with the feeling I wasted my entire life seeking to reform what I should instead have sought to abolish. When I raised this very issue with the Primal and he disagreed, instead of persevering, I apologized for being too argumentative. What I didn’t have the guts to say to my own brother, you were brave enough to say to the Inquisitor General. Miss Merinne, facing you is like staring into a mirror that reveals the cancers of one’s soul.”
“I promise I’ll work on that if I am given the chance.”
“Please do. The world could stand a little more self-reflection. In the future, though, might I suggest a gentler touch?”
“Yes, Monsignor.”
“For my part, I shall take your words to heart. In the future, I promise to choose the right way, even if it also happens to be the hard way. And as for you, Alexi, although I have no idea what my status will be if we ever make it out of here, you have my word that I shall do everything in my power to ensure that you are treated fairly.”
Alexi bowed his head. “Thank you, Monsignor.”
“Now, how long will the Bursar remain asleep?”
“At least an hour.”
“And the light?”
“Also an hour, but I can recharge it if necessary.”
The Monsignor eyed Alexi sidelong. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Alphonse, could you see if you can find some cord to bind the Bursar—there’s no telling what he’ll do when he wakes up. Alexi, could you bring the light closer. The Bursar seemed convinced there was a way to use this thing. Maybe I’ll be able to tell something from these symbols.”
“Do you recognize them?” Dona asked.
“I do. When I was a student back at the seminary, they made everyone memorize the Canticle of Obsequy. It was just my luck to have the one instructor who required it to be memorized in the original Tep’Chuan.”
“Tep-what?” Alexi asked.
“Tep’Chuan,” Dona said. “It’s an ancient pictographic language adopted by the Chervillians for sacred writings.”
“Very impressive,” the Monsignor said. “I doubt even most seminary graduates would remember that detail. Did Professor Reston teach you that?”
Dona shook her head. “I learned it
as part of my project for Professor Hepplewhite—your mother reportedly mastered Tep’Chuan in only two semesters. It was one of the things that first got her noticed by the Abbot at the seminary.”
“Really? I never knew that.”
“So, you can read these markings?” Alexi asked.
The Monsignor shook his head. “Not exactly. I was only required to memorize the symbols that appeared in the Canticle, and that was long before either of you were born. Chervillian Heresy hasn’t really been my focus.”
“What’s a canticle?”
“It’s a little hymn. The Chervillians often inscribed them on monuments.”
“I’ve found some rope,” Alphonse said.
“Excellent. Would you mind seeing if you can get him bound well enough so that we’ll at least have some warning when he wakes up?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
The Monsignor focused on the scepter. “These rings almost look like a locking mechanism, but the markings are a little small for old eyes in dim light.”
“Just what we need,” Alphonse said. “Another lock.”
“I hope I’m wrong. With all these symbols, it could take forever to test every combination.” He rotated the bottom-most ring. It made a tiny click as its symbols aligned with those the next row. He paused and listened intently, but nothing further happened. “Well, that’s one down.”
“Can you make the symbols say something?” Dona asked. “Even if we don’t know what the combination is, whatever rules they use for syntax might cut down the number of possibilities.”
“Let me see,” the Monsignor said. He started turning the rings back and forth, arranging the symbols into a pattern that was meaningless to the others. “Hmm, now that’s interesting. We might just be in luck. I think the combination might actually be the Canticle of Obsequy. I found the first symbol on the first ring. Then I found the symbol closest to what I thought should be second. That’s when I noticed the next row of symbols seemed to be forming into the next line of the Canticle.”
Alexi frowned. “What are the chances you would have memorized the one Canticle you happened to need?”
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