by Will Wight
There were only a few individuals to whom Shera felt she owed loyalty. Kerian was one of them, as was Meia. The Emperor had been one. So had Lucan.
It felt like the list grew smaller every day.
Kerian placed a hand on Shera’s knee. “Then for our sake, Shera, please play this role. Stop acting like a child and help us. You’re the only one who can do this.”
Shera threw her head back and took a long, slow breath. She was being childish, she knew that, but why should she care? She wasn’t bothered by what the others thought of her. And they could handle the Guild.
Deliberately, she blew out those thoughts along with her breath. She let her hand drift down to her right side, where her shear rested in its sheath.
Bastion, the second of her Soulbound Vessels, waited there with placid detachment.
We will cleanse and protect, the Vessel whispered to her. Cleanse and protect.
Its message calmed her and helped her focus, which made her glad for the absence of her other Vessel. Syphren was anything but calming.
“Thank you, High Gardener,” Shera said to Kerian. She sounded colder than she meant to, but maybe that was the price of her newfound focus. “Let’s go.”
They emerged from under the table to find Yala waiting for them.
Yala glowered with arms crossed, her gray-streaked blonde hair tied back into a tight tail. Not a single strand of hair escaped. She didn’t wear Consultant blacks, but a white cotton blouse, brown skirt, and a leather vest of pockets filled with devices for some profession that Shera couldn’t identify.
She had risen from the Masons, not the Gardeners, so she had spent most of her career undercover. Though Shera had difficulty imagining Yala pretending to be anything other than what she was.
“We’re late,” the High Mason snapped. “May we talk as we walk, Guild Head?”
Shera strode past her. “Now we’re waiting on you.”
In the weeks since Bastion had Awakened, Yala had been the one most dedicated to Shera’s new identity as the Mistress of the Mists. Quite a turn from her previous attitude of treating Shera like an enemy agent who had come to betray the Consultants from within.
But she had her own ideas of what Shera should be doing with her title.
Yala kept up easily, even as Shera and Kerian slipped through a secret door in the back corner of the shop. Shera would have risked exposure by walking around in her uniform, except that everyone working on the Rainworth docks and in this fish warehouse was employed by the Consultant’s Guild. They were either Masons performing a mundane job in order to keep information flowing back to the Consultants or workers hired to keep their eyes open.
Even so, Shera and the High Councilors took a hidden exit.
The door led to a covered alley outside, where a knotted rope rested against the wall of the building next door. All three women scaled it easily, and when they reached the rooftop, the sun was just starting to set. There would be plenty of ways to spot them from the street.
Shera rested a gloved hand on her shear.
Bastion’s power had many uses, and she was only beginning to discover them, but the simplest and easiest was the creation of mist. She tapped into its icy power and spread it into the surrounding air, which quickly began to grow thick as though with smoke.
To avoid drawing undue attention to their location, she spread the mist around the entire district of town, slowly thickening it until no one would be able to make out any details on the roof.
“Strange weather we’re having,” Kerian observed lightly.
“May I begin my report now?” Yala asked. She had no patience for jokes, and Bastion’s Veil would help to muffle their voices from eavesdroppers. Not much, as thin as this barrier of fog was, but they should be safe to start.
Shera began trekking over roof tiles. “First, have they made any progress with Syphren?”
“The alchemists are trying something tomorrow morning, but our Readers are convinced it won’t work. Blackwatch spikes are invested with Intent so strange that they might be Elder devices themselves. It would be better to consult the Regents.”
Bliss, Head of the Blackwatch, had driven a six-inch iron spike through Shera’s left-hand shear. Normally that should have broken the dagger, but the Blackwatch spikes were ancient weapons meant to seal Elderspawn and pin them down alive.
The spike had somehow fused with her weapon, quieting it and keeping it dormant. Shera was grateful that Syphren’s voice was now gone from her head, but she needed its power back to continue fighting Elders and Imperialists.
“Speaking of your meeting with the Regents,” Yala said, muscling the conversation back on topic, “they said they would arrive at sunset, which gives you little time. You need to know what they will say before they say it. Even without access to the Gray Island vaults, Consultants should be well-informed.”
Without a word, they slipped off a roof onto a conveniently positioned ladder and down into a waiting carriage, which lurched into motion the second they entered.
“First of all,” Yala continued, “since the Gray Island, we have managed to avoid any direct conflict with the Imperialists. As long as they have Champion support, we couldn’t win a military contest anyway. We’ve done better on the public opinion front, but the longer that lasts, the more people will panic and look for a single voice of authority.”
On the word “that,” she jabbed her finger upward.
Though Shera couldn’t see the sky from within the covered carriage, she knew what Yala was referring to. Starting a few months before, the sky had been cracked.
It was a single hairline crack that looked something like a frozen black bolt of lightning, but anyone who saw it knew it was unnatural. Elder work.
“Have the Regents made no progress restoring it, then?” Kerian asked.
“Not that we can tell, and I would call that a topic to avoid tonight,” Yala said, giving Shera a sharp glance. “If they have made significant progress, the Regents will bring that up. If they don’t, we can reasonably assume that they are as lost as the rest of us.”
The wound in the sky, as best the Consultants could determine, had been made using the Optasia—the Emperor’s throne. Without access to it, there was little they could do.
“What did we learn from that cultist?” Shera asked.
She had made quite a show when she abducted the cultist Tarik, mostly for the benefit of the Shepherds accompanying her on the mission, but she had passed over the duties of interrogating him immediately. She’d gone to sleep.
Yala folded her hands in her lap. “As we already knew, various cults have banded together under the banner of the Sleepless. The Eyes of Crossing, the Sisters of the Fading Moon, the Lamplighters. All calling themselves Sleepless now, so either this is a coordinated effort of humans to appear united or the Great Elders have begun uniting their people.
“Recently, we have confirmed that the Sleepless cabal are trying to cause as much disruption to the Guilds as possible. All Guilds. Both sides. We speculate, and the Luminians agree, that the Great Elders fear Guild unity.”
At least the Great Elders hadn’t chosen to back the Imperialist or Independent Guilds. If they sided against the Consultants, there was no way that Shera and the others could possibly win. If they sided with the Consultants…
Then they would have to give up. If the Great Elders supported a cause, then that cause should be abandoned.
Kerian’s eyes closed as though she was afraid she knew what Yala was about to say, which caused Shera to pay closer attention.
“The Imperialists have made overtures of peace,” Yala continued. “In the name of their Imperial Steward, Calder Marten.”
Shera’s lips tightened, but she couldn’t avoid hearing Calder’s name. She would have expected the Imperialist Guild Heads to have abandoned Calder by now in favor of one of their own, but somehow the Navigator had managed to cling to his position.
Not that it mattered what figurehead sat at th
e front of the ship. What mattered was their peace treaty.
“Are all the Regents coming tonight?” Shera asked.
“Estyr and Loreli are flying in together. Jorin’s location is unknown, but our intelligence suggests that he has hired a Navigator ship under a false name in order to explore something in the deep Aion.”
The Regent of the South was well-known for his curiosity, so he could be after anything.
“Even so, if they have sent both available Regents together, they must consider this important,” Kerian said, with her own significant glance to Shera.
Shera understood, she just didn’t like it. “Are they meeting with all the Independent Guild Heads?”
“They have already consulted the other three,” Yala said. “They are likely to lean toward unification, at least until the immediate threat of the Elders is resolved. By uniting under the Steward, they can help steer him in whatever direction they decide.”
Shera had interacted with the Regents enough to understand the rest of their view. As they saw it, Imperialism without the Emperor was just delaying the inevitable. The Empire would last at most for the rest of Calder Marten’s life, and more likely not even that long. This would give them enough time to put systems in place so the Empire could fall apart gracefully.
“What about the other Guilds?” Shera asked.
“The Greenwardens and Luminians are for peace. The alchemists are against it.” Yala stared at her, waiting for her next question.
“What about us?”
“That is for you to decide,” Yala said immediately. She’d had that response loaded. “However, the Council of Architects advises that we take advantage of the opportunity for a ceasefire.”
Shera thumbed the hilt of her shear. “Better to be as close as possible. We can take advantage of any further…opportunities.”
Yala’s gaze remained firm. “Correct.”
It was nice to be on the same page as Yala for once.
As the carriage began to rumble to a halt, Kerian held up a hand to interrupt them. “But of course, we should plan no violent action before informing the Regents. We wouldn’t want to blindside our real allies.”
Before the carriage had come to a complete stop, the door opened itself. A tall woman stood outside, blonde hair and long black coat blowing in the ocean breeze. Three serpentine skulls floated in orbit around her head.
She grinned and raised a hand.
“Hey, Shera!” Estyr Six called. “That color looks good on you.”
Shera grimaced and raised her hood to complete the outfit. She intended to make a sarcastic remark about the grays, but the other Regent was giving her a very formal bow.
“Many years have passed since I last exchanged greetings with a Mistress of the Mists,” the other Regent said. “It is an honor to see such ancient traditions returned to life.”
Loreli looked like she could be Kerian’s daughter. She was one of the original Heartlanders, and her hair was tied into dozens of braids just like Kerian’s.
Although, of course, it was the other way around. Loreli’s appearance was remembered in art and history the world over, so her hairstyle had gone in and out of fashion for centuries.
Loreli had a rounded, cherubic face, so she would look girlish even for a woman of twenty-five. Much less a woman who had been born before the Empire. She was shorter than Estyr—about Shera’s height—and compact with well-trained muscle. Her outfit resembled a military uniform, though it was almost entirely white. She was the founder of the Luminian Order, after all.
A silver medallion with a white diamond at its center—the White Sun, symbol of the Unknown God—rested outside her uniform. Shera supposed that must be the original. She carried a white-handled saber belted to her hip, and her hand adjusted it automatically as she lifted from her bow.
Not long ago, Shera had visited the headquarters of the Luminian Order. The entire place exuded an aura of wholesome safety and satisfaction that Shera had immediately distrusted. Loreli seemed like the personification of that aura: formal and serious, but with a warm, compassionate heart beneath.
Shera didn’t like her.
It wasn’t as though she thought Loreli couldn’t be trusted. If her reputation was to be believed, she might be the most trustworthy person alive. But that alone was…unnatural. It made Shera uncomfortable.
So instead of making some comment about how she had been forced into the role of Mistress of the Mists, she shot Estyr a look over Loreli’s shoulder and then addressed the Luminian Regent. “Thank you, Regent Loreli. If you haven’t met already, please allow me to introduce my companions, High Mason Yala and High Gardener Kerian.”
The two High Councilors immediately took to their roles, greeting the Regent more fluidly than Shera had while Shera herself slid up to speak with Estyr.
“The crown weighs heavy, does it?” Estyr asked.
“At least it’s just a hood. If they made me wear a crown, I’d go swim down to Kelarac.”
Shera winced after she said it. Naming the Great Elders in front of this woman was a mistake.
Estyr fired back without missing a beat: “Now, that would be a mistake. We nailed him to the ocean floor at the center of the Aion. You’re risking more than death just getting there.”
She gave a wink that said she wasn’t offended by Shera digging up harsh memories, and Shera relaxed.
Yala and Kerian had finished their introductions, and Shera subtly signaled them away. She could handle it from here.
Though she had no doubt they’d spy on her the entire time.
“Regents, allow me to introduce you to the new headquarters of the Consultant’s Guild.” She gestured to the building in front of them, turning their attention so that Kerian and Yala could sneak away.
The building was the Rainworth Imperial Library.
Shera spoke as they walked up the marble steps and in between the pillars leading to the doors. “This library was once one of a number of emergency shelters intended to help evacuate the Capital, so it had three underground floors equipped to withstand a siege. We’ve taken them over.”
Sometimes, Shera surprised herself with how easily she could slip into client-speak. Her primary client had been the Emperor himself, and she hadn’t needed to watch her words with him very often. But for most of the last two years, she’d worked in the Capital chapter house.
“Everything is training.” One of Maxwell’s favorite sayings.
The doors swung open, pulled by two Miners in their capacity as library staff. The interior was an ordinary—though ornate—functioning library. Most walls were lined with bookshelves, shielded writing-desks allowed for quiet places to read or write, and white-gold quicklamps lit the entire place instead of open flames.
There was only one difference between this library and any other: no one was here to borrow a book. The Rainworth Imperial Library had been closed to the public for a month. Ever since the Consultant’s Guild had shaken off Navigator pursuit and made landfall.
They moved downstairs as Shera continued her verbal tour.
“The Miners almost made a suicide pact after we lost their vaults. They’re afraid the Imperialists might destroy the centuries of information they’ve gathered, so they might be the angriest allies we have. If we asked them to charge an Imperial Guild with pitchforks and torches, they’d do it.”
Estyr peered into the lower floor as they arrived, which currently served as equipment storage. The floor was mostly open, broken only by the occasional load-bearing pillar, but it was packed with everything useful they had managed to scrounge from the Gray Island or bring in from Consultant assets all over the region.
“They think the Imperialists will destroy their information?” Estyr asked. “Not use it against us?”
The place was a busy hive of activity, Consultants both in and out of uniform sorting or digging through piles of tools, but each one took a moment to bow toward the Regents.
Loreli gave them a sunlit smile an
d a wave. Estyr ignored them.
“No one but the Miners can get into the vaults,” Shera continued. “Even if they could, it would take a hundred Readers a lifetime to sort it all without our ciphers.”
Loreli nodded as though Shera had said something wise. “The Gray Island defenses are ingenious. It was a terrible location to lose. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help defend it.”
It took all of Shera’s willpower to remind herself that the Luminian Regent wasn’t mocking her.
Although she did wonder if the apology was warranted. Two Regents had been on site for the battle of the Gray Island, but they had still been driven off by enemy Guild Heads and the arrival of the Champion’s Guild. She wasn’t sure what one more Regent could have changed.
Then again, Loreli was renowned by historians for her tactical mind. Maybe her presence could have turned the tide.
Shera indicated a row of chalkboards nearby, each manned by a young Architect apprentice on a stool. “Fortunately, we were able to recover much of our communications from the Gray Island, either on our Navigator vessel or from remote backup storage sites afterwards.” The Architects all had pads of paper and scribbled furiously whenever a piece of chalk levitated up the surface of the board and scratched out a message.
“These are made possible by pairs of invested magnets connected to one another over great distance. When the primary one is lifted, so is the other on our end.”
She nodded to an empty set of cages. “The main cages are on the roof, but we also use Kameira messengers called Flitwhips that we keep in coveys. They can’t go as far as Izyria, but they can make it down to Vandenyas in only four days round-trip.”
“We used specialized Soulbound for communication over great distances,” Loreli said. “They were highly prized. Is that still common practice?”
“We hire the services of three Soulbound with communication Vessels, though only one of them is officially part of our Guild,” Shera responded. “And, of course, we still have the largest network of ordinary messengers in the world.”
She was glad that Yala and Kerian had kept her apprised of all these Guild operations, no matter how the lectures had bored her at the time. If they were going to make her do the job, at least they had equipped her to do it.
