by Scott Hale
As for Narcissus, the army was two thousand, five hundred, and seventy-six strong here in Cathedra. Another thousand was holding the Divide. One hundred were stationed in Bedlam. It was one of the few places where the Disciples had never really taken much hold, despite Eldrus once having a large presence there, and Edgar didn’t seem to have any interest in taking it back from the Holy Order. Another forty or so had been left in Gallows, to observe and quarantine the blood well. But that number was dwindling, as people kept going missing in the night. When it came to the rest of Narcissus, that three thousand was defending Penance itself. Leaving that many there was all Felix could do to stop the people in the city from revolting and burning the place down.
“Edgar’s not going to let you take two and a half thousand soldiers into Eldrus, your Holiness,” Millicent had said.
“I’ll let you decide how many we should leave in Cathedra, but the rest, we’ll take with us. As we go north, we’ll send soldiers to the places we pass along the way. By the time we reach Eldrus, we’ll have - what? - two hundred soldiers left?”
“King Edgar may interpret this plan as an act of aggression.”
“Has he attacked us yet?”
“Other than on the Divide, your Holiness? No. There have been Arachne attacks, and also, suicide bombers. A new drug market has developed with the presence of the vermillion veins everywhere. King Edgar has denied encouraging these suicide bombers, but regardless, they claim they are carrying out God’s will to remove the, uh—” she rolled her eyes, “—terrorists from the continent.
“Your Holiness, I’m not sure it is wise to split our army up. It’s likely Eldrus will have double the soldiers we send already stationed in Hrothas, Islaos, and especially, Nyxis. What do you plan for our people to do in these occupied towns?”
Felix didn’t have an answer to this question.
“If you and the Mother Abbess are not going to Eldrus as conquerors, your Holiness, then we shouldn’t have our soldiers attacking the towns along the way.”
“I agree. But we can’t leave them here, and we can’t send them back to Penance.” He had hated to ask it, but he had to do it: “Why’d Justine send for Narcissus?”
He could tell by the way Millicent was looking at him it was a stupid question with an obvious answer. Her armor began to squelch.
“Compellers are already going to be accompanying them into the towns. We won’t attack. We’ll support, especially those places where the vermillion vein addicts are the worst.”
Millicent nodded. “It’s been a long time since the Compellers did missionary work. It’ll be hard to shake their image of being spies.”
“The soldiers will keep them in check.”
“It may be the other way around, your Holiness.”
Felix said, “I don’t trust Sloane, either. Commander, keep an eye on your people in Cenotaph.” He called to mind Mr. Haemo’s transformation. “Edgar may have spies here himself.”
“Yes, and it’s good you don’t trust Sloane, your Holiness.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’ve seen Sloane and Hex speaking frequently with one another. Compellers are not that far removed from the Winnowers’ Chapter. The only difference is that these zealots are actually getting things done. Pairing them up with the Marrow Cabal may present problems… further down the line.”
She thinks I’m an idiot. She doesn’t take me seriously. She knows I have no idea what I’m doing.
“I have other plans for them,” Felix said.
Commander Millicent nodded, said, “They may, as well.”
“Speak plainly,” Felix said, agitated. “Just say it.”
“There is a lot of confusion in war. It’s hard to account for everything.” She considered what she was going to say next, then said it. “Loyalty goes to the highest bidder. The closer we draw to Eldrus, the surer you need to be the Compellers and the Marrow Cabal are still in your pocket.”
“God will protect us,” Felix rattled off.
“Of course,” Commander Millicent said, tapping on her scabbard. “Of course.”
“Just…” Felix looked at her, pleadingly. “Just do what needs to be done.”
She smiled, as if that’s all he needed to say.
The night that followed was so loud that, even if Felix’s head wasn’t filled with every possible way that this plan could go wrong, he still wouldn’t be able to sleep. Cenotaph’s halls were filled with echoing footsteps and voices, cracking wood, and things being dragged. Outside, Cathedra was no better: the entire town had to be awake, as the armies were constantly moving through it, transporting supplies and establishing squadrons; he could even hear Commander Millicent shouting orders somewhere beyond the mist that blanketed that village. It made him feel good to hear her at this hour, and to hear her carrying out every order he’d given her.
Felix lay awake beneath the cold, dead light of the stars, watching the flame of the only candle in his room work its way down the wick. To live, it had to destroy the thing that kept it alive. Being thirteen, the symbolism to himself stood out like a sore thumb, and it seemed like just about the deepest thing he’d ever come up with. He watched the flame until it’d all but died out, and then closed his eyes to it.
The next day, Felix, groggy and grumpy, rolled around Cenotaph like a handful of scattered marbles, constantly bumping into, bouncing off of, or getting tripped up by everything, everywhere. Furniture, crates, piles of who-knows-what bound in cloth. It was starting to look like less of a departure on their part, and more of a looting.
He finally found Sloane sometime after lunch, near the doors that led down to the catacombs where the Bloodless was kept. She was alone, and when he called out her name, she jumped, surprised. She did not bow, as others would’ve, and maybe she couldn’t. Not at her age, not in her condition. A few more years and a little less flesh, and people might start mistaking her for the Skeleton.
“Your Holiness,” Sloane said, touching her chest. “You startled me.” She sidestepped away from the door.
“Do you have the key?” he asked, playing with the skeleton key for the whole place in his pocket.
She nodded. “Of course.” She took out her own keyring. “I was just down there, taking inventory of some of the supplies. We don’t want to leave anything behind.”
So much for those soldiers who were supposed to be guarding it.
“Those supplies will go with the Mother Abbess and myself,” he said, voice deepened.
Sloane smiled, and now she bowed.
“There has been a slight change—”
“The Compellers are happy to take up missionary work again,” Sloane interrupted. “Your Holiness.”
He looked around, to see who was watching them talk in this part of Cenotaph. The answer? Everyone. And they weren’t even concrete—no, discreet—about it. They passed by, their jaws practically dragging on the ground behind them. Worse yet, they didn’t even bother looking away when he caught them. And why should they? He was leaving soon, and once he was gone, they’d need every morsel of gossip to see them fed through this war.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’ve already heard.”
“We are good at our job.”
Felix took out the skeleton key, walked past Sloane, and slipped it in the lock. Watching her, he unlocked and opened the door. A musty smell, built up in the sweating tunnels beyond, pressed into him. It was heavy, sweet. Several flies he’d mistaken at first for mosquitoes flew out of the tunnel. She was lying. She’d hadn’t just been down there. No one had for quite some time.
Ever the gentleman, he said, “You first.”
She licked her lips—“Your Holiness.”—and went past him into the tunnels.
Felix hadn’t been down here since that day Narcissus had arrived. That was a screw up on his part. He should’ve been checking on the Bloodless every single day. But, in all honesty, the thought alone made his skin crawl. He’d been attacked once by the Bloodless back in
Pyra, and he didn’t trust a box made out of bodies to hold the plant back forever.
Sloane walked quickly down the tunnel. She rounded every corner as if she meant to shake him. Felix kept pace. When they reached the first torch on the wall, he told her to take it. Hesitating, she did. It felt good to have someone like Sloane out of her comfort zone, yet, it would’ve been nice to have someone like Gemma here, also. She didn’t put up with anything.
“I still want the Compellers to do espionage,” Felix said.
The torch caressed the tunnel’s walls. The condensation on the stones hissed when the flames licked them. Ahead, small squeaks preceded scratchy skittering.
“That’s good, your Holiness.”
The tunnel split into a four-way, and Sloane went right—the right way. She knew where they were going.
“I want you to spy on the Marrow Cabal,” Felix said.
Again, the tunnel branched, and Sloane chose the right path. “We already are, your Holiness.”
“Is that why you’ve been spending so much time with Hex?”
Sloane lowered the torch past her knees. Darkness covered her face like a veil. She slowed down but didn’t stop. “Yes.” She raised the torch. “When you shared with us we would be working together at our first meeting, she took immediate interest in the Compellers. She brought me to her brother, Ichor. I must say, your Holiness, I am surprised you would allow her to do something so foul in these holy halls of Cenotaph.”
Felix rolled his eyes. The tunnel turned again. A few more feet and bends and they’d be face to face with the Bloodless’ box. Still, the two soldiers he’d put in charge of guarding it were nowhere to be found.
“A small price to pay for the intel he can provide,” he said.
“Oh, please don’t mistake me, your Holiness.” Sloane turned around. Her large spectacles caught the torchlight, setting her eyes afire. “It was a good decision.”
“God only makes good decisions.”
“Yes, and the list she provided yesterday will be invaluable.”
List?
As if she’d read his thoughts, she went on: “The list of names and places where the seeds of heaven are being manufactured across the continent. We can use Narcissus and the Compellers to act as aides in the towns, while the Marrow Cabal can infiltrate the sites. They did that once before, here, you know?”
“I heard.”
“I was here when it happened.”
Before they reached the final bend that would open up to the catacombs, he planted his feet.
She got the hint and stopped.
“They were manufacturing seeds of heaven in Cathedra then. Why didn’t anyone stop Eldrus?”
A piece of Sloane’s silver-streaked hair fell, fed itself to the torch. “We tried, but we did not have Narcissus or the Conscription here to help. Penance had made it clear over the years we were on our own.
“It was my Compellers that served as the distraction that allowed the Cabal to attack Carpenter Plantation with minimal casualties. It was my Compellers that gave them shelter the night that followed. Needless to say, your Holiness, I was pleased when you hired them to join our cause. They do good work.”
“You trust them?”
“I trust them about as far as I can throw them,” Sloane said, her eyes vacant behind her glasses. “But make no mistake, I am stronger than I look.”
Felix and Sloane continued onwards and then came to a stop as the catacombs opened before them. The grave-lined walls were unchanged, except for a fresh dressing of spiderwebs here and there.
At the center of the room, where he’d left it, the box of bodies sat. The interlocked corpses, hard like treated wood, were covered in mildew. A throbbing carpet of insects—beetles, maggots, and fat blow flies—moved in such a way that it looked as if the box were breathing.
Knowing the Bloodless was inside, Felix kept as much distance as possible from it.
Rocks fell onto the box from above. Looking up, he noticed that there were several large cracks in ceiling. He couldn’t remember if they’d been there before,
Sloane fixed the torch to the wall, rolled up the sleeves to her dress, and said, “Would you like me to cover up this up for you?”
“The box?”
She smiled, said, “Sure.”
Felix didn’t give her a response. She didn’t deserve one. She was toying with him. It was only fair he do the same to her. Instead, he headed back the way he’d come.
“Your Holiness?”
He stopped. “Yes, Sloane?”
“I have been a Compeller since I was a little girl. My mother and father gave me to the church because they had too many children and couldn’t afford to raise me. I have tried almost everything there is to bring god into people’s hearts. But god is like any illness. The more you expose people to it, the more resistant they become over the years.”
Confused, he asked, “What’re you saying?”
She adjusted her spectacles. “Saying? I’m saying we shouldn’t say anything, anymore. We shouldn’t say, but see. Detonating the seed-carriers was a great idea.”
“I…”
“The people are inoculated. Sometimes, the best cure is the lack thereof. When the fever passes, even atheists will feel god’s lips upon their brows.”
Felix felt like he was going insane just listening to her. “No innocents. Only soldiers.”
Sloane started for the box, stopped, and pointed to the torch. “Take the torch when you go. It’s all darkness from here on out.”
On his final day in Cathedra, Felix spent the morning on the terrace behind Cenotaph, eating by himself, his guard of stone Holy Children withstanding. Sitting there at the table, scraping butter over his bread, he stared at the Vermillion God, as if daring It to come down from Kistvaen and stop him from carrying out his plan. But God did not stir, nor fall into his trap. Instead, It sat crouched upon the mountain, head crowned with smoke, Its many gelatinous eyes fixed northward. He wondered if It were watching Audra, making sure she got to Eldrus safely.
Don’t let them get to you, Audra. He took a deep breath; the unease unraveled inside him. I’ll help you, somehow. I—
“Your H-Holiness?”
Felix turned away from God. Swarmed by the Holy Children were Clementine and Will. He’d called for them. He was glad they’d come.
Felix waved the statues away. They took two steps back. Petrified and damned to an eternal life of servitude, and still, sometimes, they had a sense of humor.
“Please,” Felix said, “sit.”
Clementine drifted over to the table and sat opposite him.
Will, hesitant as always, took his time deciding where to sit, and sat by his mom, anyway.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to go?” Clementine asked.
“We’re leaving in an hour.”
“Leave it to a man to leave everything to the last minute.” Clementine nudged Will. “What’s the matter? Moon cat got your tongue?”
Will snapped, “It’s six in the morning!”
“You watch your mouth, Boy.” Clementine cracked the back of his head with her palm. “Sorry, your Holiness. The last time Will was awake this early was when he’d snuck in after sneaking out with his girlfriend back home.”
Will smiled and looked away.
Felix leaned over the table and whispered, “Mr. Haemo’s here.”
Clementine laughed, said, “That son of a bitch finally decided to show his face?”
Will just shook his head and looked as if he was going to kill someone.
Felix didn’t have a lot of time. Once they were out on the road, and everyone started splitting up at every pitstop, things were going to get away from him. So, he jumped to his next question. “Do you trust Hex?”
Now, Will laughed.
“Hush,” Clementine told him. “Yes and no. She does good work—”
Good work, that’s what Sloane had said, too.
“—but she’s a woman of ulterior motives. Hex
won’t do something unless she gets something out of it.”
“That’s what ulterior motive means, Mom,” Will said.
“If you don’t stop smarting off, the shepherds will be the least of your concerns.”
That shut Will up.
And Felix didn’t know why.
“If you’re asking if she’s going to help you fight Eldrus, then yes, Felix, she will. But if your way doesn’t work for her, she’s going to find another.” Clementine scratched her head; dandruff fell out. She didn’t seem to be taking care of herself these days. “Might could be why Mr. Haemo is here.”
“Can I trust Gemma and Warren?”
“They’re moody, but they’re good people. Warren is very religious. You might not figure it, but he is. He’s a believer. He’s in it for a penny and a pound, excuse my French.”
“Yeah, they’re cool,” Will said. “What’s ‘French?’”
Clementine shrugged. “If you’re asking for my opinion…”
Felix smiled: “I am.”
“Don’t leave her in Cathedra. She won’t stay put, anyway. Keep her close. Don’t give her too long a leash. Otherwise, she’s going to do things, like invite Mr. Haemo over for a playdate.”
Will shifted in his seat, as one of the Holy Children, the one with the star-shaped head, drew near. “Tell him about Herbert.”
Herbert? Felix wrinkled his brow. Where do I know that…?
“Herbert was this old man me and Will met in the Membrane. He took good care of us until my husband got us out. He got Herbert out, too. You heard Will mention shepherds?”
“Yes.”
“Death sends them out for people who’ve somehow come back to life. They’ve come for us and my husband a couple of times. Before Kistvaen went off, a shepherd came to Hex, told her to give it us, or Herbert.”
The tendons in Will’s neck tented. “She let it take Herbert.”
“Thing is, Felix, if she hadn’t thought Atticus would’ve come back to the Marrow Cabal, I’m pretty sure she would’ve given us up, instead.” Clementine shook her head. “We—” she gestured to her and Will, “—aren’t on speaking terms with Hex at the moment on account of what she did.”
“So,” Felix said, “if I ask you to spy on her, you will?”
