Quickly, Cinzia and Astrid put pressure on the wound using some cloth from the nearest bed in the chambers. Blood seeped from the wound, but Cinzia knew Knot would be all right.
She told him as much, and Knot coughed, eventually nodding. He made an attempt to get to his feet, but Cinzia put a hand on his shoulder gently.
“Do not try to move until you have to,” she said. She looked to Astrid. “Help him when he is ready.”
“We need to get out of here sooner rather than later,” Astrid said. “No telling when more of these bleeding Cultists will show up.”
“You’re right,” Cinzia said. “You need to get Knot to safety.”
“But not we?” Astrid asked.
Cinzia took a deep breath, and shook her head. “No,” she said. “Not we. You.”
“I can’t leave you here alone—” Astrid said, but Cinzia cut her off.
“You must. I will be damned if I let all of this be for nothing,” Cinzia said. “We came here for a reason. I can still accomplish that.”
“What if there are more of them waiting for you in the Vault?” Knot rasped, pushing himself to his feet despite Cinzia’s admonition. Bloody idiot. But she was glad to see him on his feet so soon, even if it was ill-advised.
Cinzia gave a small shrug in response. It was a chance they would have to take. But she could not bring herself to say that to Knot.
“I did defeat their high priestess,” Cinzia said. “What more could they send against me?”
Cinzia knew there were myriad answers to that question, but she hoped her bravado was enough to convince Knot.
“I can’t leave you,” he said again.
Cinzia gave him a look. “You are in no condition to remain, let alone protect me,” she said. “Astrid will not be of any use to me either, not if she has to split her time between protecting both of us.”
Knot looked back at Astrid, clearly torn.
Cinzia would not have that. As much as she liked Knot— Goddess, as much as she loved him—and as much as she wanted Knot with her, she wanted both him and Astrid safe.
And she had a feeling that, whatever she was about to face, she had to face it alone.
“You don’t have a choice,” Cinzia said. “I forbid you from following me.”
Knot raised an eyebrow. “Forbid?”
Cinzia did not look away from him. “Forbid,” she said.
The two held one another’s gaze. Cinzia wanted to reach out for him—Goddess, she wanted to kiss him, to feel the roughness of his cheek on her own, his lips on hers as he held her close.
But she knew she could not. Mainly because she did not want to aggravate his shoulder wound, but there were other reasons, too.
Which was why she was so surprised when he pulled her in to him, wrapping her in a one-armed embrace with his uninjured arm. He held her tightly for a moment, and Cinzia let herself be held.
Then she pulled away from him.
“Go,” she said, wiping the tears from her cheek, hopefully before he saw them.
To his credit, Knot actually did as she asked. Astrid moved to him quickly, helping him walk, and they descended down the stairs together.
Cinzia glanced at Nayome, still staring at the body of the Outsider before her, face pale, strands of hair loose and waving around her face.
“Where is the Beldam?” Cinzia asked, looking around the chambers.
No response.
Cinzia walked quickly around the circular room, searching for any sign of the woman. Goddess, if the Beldam had abandoned them—if she had used them, and gone on without her…
Then she noticed a small, limp form, crumpled against the outer wall of the chambers.
She approached the Beldam, and heard a low moan as she got closer. Cinzia was surprised at how small the Beldam looked. Her frame usually seemed much larger, more imposing, but now as she lay collapsed on the floor, her robes seemed uncharacteristically large, as if there were far too much fabric for such a slight person.
The Beldam’s eyes were open wide.
“What happened?” Cinzia asked. The twisting in her gut she had felt at seeing Knot so severely injured was completely gone now. Knot would be all right. And try as Cinzia might, she could conjure very little compassion for this woman. She only felt a sense of urgency; the Beldam knew of this secret vault, while no one else did.
“Daemon…” the Beldam said, nodding at the outsider. “Smacked me with its tail. Strong bugger. Sent me flying, and now I think… I think…”
The Beldam’s eyes rolled up into her head, and a wave of panic washed over Cinzia.
“Beldam,” Cinzia said, kneeling beside her. She reached out and touched the Beldam’s shoulder gently. “I need you to stay with me. Can you move your legs?”
“I can’t move anything,” the Beldam wheezed.
Cinzia dared not transport the woman, especially if she claimed to be unable to move any of her limbs. The Outsider had likely broken her back.
“Beldam,” Cinzia said, weighing her options. She could help this woman, or she could get what she needed from her, and move on.
Cinzia felt as if her heart were encased in stone. This woman had caused so many problems for the Odenites. She had caused so many problems for the tiellans.
“Can you tell me where the Vault is?”
“Vault…” the Beldam rasped.
“Yes,” Cinzia said, the impatience rising inside of her. Along with the impatience, a hot shame burned within her. Shame for not caring about what happened to this woman. Shame for what she knew she would do if the Beldam gave her even a hint of the Vault’s location. The Beldam’s life was a life, and whatever else Cinzia believed, did she not view life itself as sacred?
But this was also the woman who had led hundreds of Odenites away—who had preached hate against the tiellans, and sowed discord throughout Jane’s movement.
There is no fairness, no freedom, nothing of the sort. There is only truth and the inevitable pain that follows.
“Tell me where it is,” Cinzia said, keeping her voice steady.
“Vault, yes…” the Beldam whispered between long, ragged breaths. “Vault… painting.”
Painting? Cinzia looked around. At the opposite end of the chambers from which she knelt with the Beldam, a large painting hung on the wall between two of the large windows. If Cinzia had to guess, that wall faced the main body of the Fane—and, behind that section of the wall, a small ridge along the roof between the Ministry’s quarters and the Fane that Cinzia had always thought decorative more than anything.
Cinzia stood.
“Wait—” the Beldam said, but Cinzia did not. The shame filled her, overflowing, but she could not care about that now. She could not hear what else the Beldam had to say.
If the Beldam was still there when Cinzia had found what she was looking for, then she could think about helping her.
She grabbed Nayome on the way to the painting, making the other yelp.
“Come on,” Cinzia said, “we still have work to do.”
“What about—”
“There are more important things,” Cinzia said, the shame still hot inside of her. “She said the painting has something to do with the Vault. It’s time we investigate it.”
They approached the painting together, staring up at the huge frame.
It depicted the Triunity themselves: the First Priestess, the Holy Examiner, and the Oracle. The Oracle was seated in a simple wooden chair, while the First Priestess and Holy Examiner stood slightly behind her, each with a hand on the Oracle’s shoulder. The painting seemed… tacky.
“We cannot just leave her there,” Nayome said. “She will die.”
“She is a heretic,” Cinzia said. “Is that not her fate, according to your own law?”
“After a fair trial, yes,” Nayome said. Definitely back to her normal self, then. “It is my duty to see to it that she receives such.”
“A fair trial,” Cinzia scoffed. “Like the one you gave my sis
ter in Navone?”
“That…” Nayome blanched. “Those were unusual circumstances, Cinzia.”
“It is an odd portrait, is it not?” Cinzia asked, reaching up to run one hand along the gilded frame.
“I…” Nayome blinked, took one last look back at the Beldam, then nodded. “Yes,” she said. “The Triunity’s pretentiousness has never been subtle.”
Cinzia gripped the frame.
“Be careful,” Nayome said, “I’m sure it is quite…”
With a gentle tug she removed the painting from the wall, and set it on its side on the ground.
“…heavy,” Nayome finished, but her lips formed the word almost as an afterthought.
Cinzia looked up to where the painting had been, and saw what Nayome stared at so intently.
It was a door.
Cinzia was not sure why she was so surprised; the Beldam had informed them this was exactly what they were to expect. A vault implied an entrance of some kind or another.
The door, neither protruding nor set into the stone but exactly flush with the wall, seemed to be made of a single, solid piece of wood, with no hinges or locking mechanism that she could see.
“That’s it, then?” Nayome asked.
“I… believe so,” Cinzia said.
The two of them stood there for a moment, and then Cinzia stepped forward, and pressed on the door. It swung inward, revealing a stark, dimly lit corridor. Dust particles swam through the air in soft beams of light.
The corridor it revealed kindled a spark of excitement inside of her. This place, wherever it led, could hold the answer to what she had been looking for all along.
Cinzia took a step toward the portal. She peeked into the corridor, and saw in the distance another door at the end of the hallway. Cinzia stepped up through the door and into the corridor.
Nayome had not moved from where she stood.
“Are you coming?” Cinzia asked.
After a moment, Nayome shook her head. “No,” she said, “I do not think so.”
“We have come all this way. How can you stop here?”
“I can stop here,” Nayome said slowly, “because I am comfortable in my faith. I am confident in it. Whatever is in there, whatever you’re about to find, I don’t need to know.
“I helped you because I think you are right: something must be done about the Nine Daemons. But if whatever you find in there has something to do with Canta, or the Denomination, I do not want to know about it.”
Cinzia stared at Nayome for a moment, completely aghast. She had never considered Nayome would stop at the threshold of something so bizarre, so interesting, so potentially groundbreaking.
“Are you not the least bit curious?” Cinzia asked.
“No, Cinzia, I am not.”
“Very well, then,” Cinzia said. “Will you wait here?”
“For a time,” Nayome said. “But if you take too long…”
Cinzia nodded. “I understand,” she said. Which she did, and she also did not.
Did you actually think you were rekindling your friendship with this woman? Cinzia asked herself incredulously. Things were strained for them when Cinzia was actually a part of the ministry; to think that they could have a relationship now was preposterous.
She left the door open behind her. The corridor itself was long, and stuffy; small rectangular glass windows shone light into the hallway where the wall met the ceiling every few rods. Cinzia did not see much opportunity for ventilation in the hallway; the dust was everywhere, the air thick and musty.
The doorway at the other end seemed to be the twin of the one through which Cinzia had just walked: a solid piece of wood. This one, however, had visible hinges on her side, and a small latch. Both doors opened inward into the corridor that led from the Triunity’s chambers to the Vault.
When Cinzia reached the door, she placed her hand on the small iron latch. With a deep breath, she pulled, and the door opened to reveal a surprisingly bright, clean room.
Daylight streamed in through bright stained-glass windows all around her. She estimated that the room must be directly above the Fane’s chapel. Thick, round pillars interrupted her vision of the room, in roughly the same places where she knew thick, round columns rose up from the floor of the chapel. But the stained glass, the columns, even the strange objects on display throughout the room did not catch her attention.
There was a woman standing directly opposite her.
Cinzia did not recognize her at first; the woman was older than Cinzia, perhaps in her fortieth summer, with the faintest crinkles around her mouth and eyes, but otherwise her face and skin were dark and smooth. Her wiry jet-black hair formed a tight halo around her head. It was not until Cinzia took a few steps closer that she realized who it was she was actually facing. Instinctively, she knelt.
Cinzia knelt before Arcana Blackwood, Essera of the Cantic Denomination.
She forced herself to stand again, reminding herself she was no longer part of the Denomination.
“I almost did not recognize you without your robes, Essera.”
Normally, the Essera wore her traditional robes in public and when conducting the necessary business of the Denomination: a large, thick, hooded affair, one half of which was cloth-of-silver, the other half cloth-of-gold, the line separating the two running straight down the middle of the robe. Crimson trimmed the sleeves and hem of the garment. It was unmistakable, even more remarkable than Arcana’s personal appearance, as one of the few women in the upper ministry from Maven Kol.
But now, the Essera wore a simple white dress, light and loose, that cascaded around her slight form. The Essera inclined her head.
“Cinzia Oden. I wondered whether I might see you here.”
“What are you doing here, Essera?” Cinzia asked, adding quickly, “If you will forgive me for asking.”
The Essera’s dark brown eyes met Cinzia’s.
“You seem to have no trouble asking other questions,” the woman said, her voice heavy with weariness. “Why would you not ask me that one?”
Cinzia did not know what to say. Questions raced through her mind—why was the Essera here, in the Vault, of all places? Had she known about Garyne? Did she know about the Cult in general? Did she know about the Nine Daemons?
The Essera represented everything Cinzia had left behind; everything she had abandoned to follow her sister, and everything that had now abandoned her. The Essera was the literal mouthpiece of Canta, according to the Denomination’s doctrine. She spoke for the Goddess; she was, for all intents and purposes, an avatar of the Goddess.
Cinzia wobbled on her feet, catching herself with both hands against the nearest pillar.
“Are you all right, my child?” the Essera asked, taking a single step toward Cinzia.
Looking into this woman’s eyes was like looking into the sun for too long; Cinzia felt an intense discomfort, an almost incomprehensible desire to look away as quickly as she could.
“I am not all right,” Cinzia said quietly.
“No, I do not imagine you are.”
“Why did you excommunicate me?” Cinzia asked, the question ripping from her, accompanied by a sob of pain. She felt immediate embarrassment for the sob, for even asking the question in the first place, but she could not help it. The pain was too great and had been buried for too long, and she could not help but ask it in that moment.
“My child,” the woman said, reaching out to touch Cinzia’s face.
When the Essera’s fingers made contact, an ethereal shock spread from Cinzia’s cheek, through her face and down toward her toes. It was not painful, but rather a feeling of intense and sudden heat, and Cinzia found herself standing tall, face to face with the Essera. Or, as close to face to face as Cinzia could be; she was shorter than average, after all, and the Essera tall and elegant.
“You know why we did what we did,” the Essera said, her voice warm, but sad. “You knew it was the only consequence of your choice to remain with your sister.�
�
The Essera was right, of course. Cinzia had known she would be excommunicated the moment she chose to go against the Denomination—to go against Nayome—in Navone.
“Are you a part of the Cult?”
“No, Cinzia, I am not. I was warned they were coming to the Triunity’s quarters, and I knew I had to get out of there. Garyne is perfectly willing to bend the knee to me in front of someone else, but I fear behind closed doors, with other goals in mind, she would not be so accommodating to my office.”
“But you know of the Cult?” Cinzia asked.
“I know about everything in the Denomination.”
“So you are… hiding?” Cinzia asked.
The Essera nodded, her hand still on Cinzia’s cheek. The warmth continued to spread through her, from her face to the tips of her toes and fingers.
“And Canta told you to hide here?” Cinzia asked.
“My child,” the Essera said, “you have been through a great deal. You may not believe me, but I am happy to see you. While we have our differences, I know you do not seek to harm me, at least. Or wrong the people of the Sfaera.”
She did not answer my question.
With the warmth, Cinzia realized, was something else that permeated her body, and her mind. She felt emboldened, strangely, as if she could do anything she desired, but at the same time her head felt… fuzzy. Unclear.
Cinzia took a step back, breaking the contact with the Essera, and immediately shivered, as if a stiff, cool breeze had flurried through the chamber, and she no longer felt quite so bold. Instead, she felt just a little sadder, a little more inadequate than she had been just a moment ago.
But the fuzziness in her head was gone.
“What were you doing to me?”
The Essera cocked her head to one side. “What do you mean, Cinzia?”
“Your hand on my face, I felt something…”
The Essera’s eyes widened, just for a moment, but then her face returned to the affectionate, understanding openness that Cinzia had noticed since she first recognized the woman.
Chaos Queen--Fear the Stars (Chaos Queen 4) Page 25
