Page 58 of Crucible of Chaos

THE LAST DOOR

Estevar soon had cause to regret his persistence in seeking out the location where Abbot Venia had spent his final, frantic days. The murky water inside the storm tunnels rose ever higher as Brother Syme led them down the slope. It was already up to Estevar’s calves and his heart was beating dangerously fast, sweat beading on his forehead at the memory of his near-drowning three days ago. Caeda, sensing his disquiet, took his hand. Her palm felt warm, reassuring– and a reminder that nothing on this accursed island was as it seemed.

‘No one comes down here,’ Brother Syme told them, taking a right turn at the next junction. The stone ceiling was even lower here, with jagged deformations that threatened to part Estevar’s hair should he stand up straight. ‘The other factions fight like animals over storerooms and who gets to occupy which towers. Even before the abbot’s murder, I’d been searching for places to hide in case things got even worse.’

‘When did you last see Abbot Venia?’ Estevar asked, sloshing through the water to keep up.

‘The day of the storm. The big one, I mean–when all that crazy lightning destroyed the statues. He hadn’t been talking much lately; I was barely able to convince him to eat or drink. But that day. . . he was so excited, so. . . happy.’ Brother Syme’s shoulders shuddered as he tried and failed to suppress a sob. ‘The next morning I found his body in the statuary. His head had been left six feet away.’

‘You buried him in the statuary,’ Estevar said gently, careful not to make it an accusation.

Syme kept walking along the narrow passage. ‘The cemetery is on the other side of the abbey, past the curtain wall. I couldn’t bring myself to drag his headless. . . I dug a grave for him among the remains of the statues of the gods. I thought maybe that would be. . . I don’t know– fitting, somehow? But the next day, his body was lying right where I’d found it before, so I buried him again, like I’ve had to do every night since.’

The novice stopped and turned to face them, misery etched into his features. Estevar would have had no difficulty imagining Syme as a lord, a viscount, a margrave. . . Now, though, he just looked like a lost little boy. ‘Was it my fault?’

‘What?’ Estevar asked.

‘Those monstrous creatures with their leathery white skin and those awful blue eyes– did they come because I buried my master somewhere I shouldn’t have?’

The sorrow and wretchedness in Syme’s voice testified even more to his devotion for the dead abbot. Estevar could feel Caeda’s barely restrained outrage through the tightening of her grip on his hand.

And yet she does not shout or scream at this glorification of the man who bound and tortured her for days before throwing her into the sea. I could learn much from her restraint, if only we had more time.

‘You did not fail the abbot,’ he told Brother Syme. ‘What has unfolded in this once-sacred isle is a tangle of supernatural theology and murderous intrigue that can only be unravelled by tugging on the threads of Venia’s last actions before he died.’

‘By defiling his memory–that’s what you really mean, isn’t it?’

Estevar glanced past the young monk to a small arched wooden door a few yards away at the end of the tunnel. He took a step forward, but his way was blocked.

‘Promise me you’ll speak well of him,’ Brother Syme said, refusing to let them pass. ‘Whatever stupid trial you hold when all this is done, whatever verdict you pass on the rest of us, promise me you’ll see to it that no one sullies Abbot Venia’s reputation.’

This last proved to be too much for Caeda, who shook off Estevar’s grip and would have launched herself at the man twice her size had Estevar not stepped in front of her.

Perhaps we could both teach each other a little restraint,he thought, staying there until she backed off. The look in her eyes was one of bitter accusation for a betrayal he was about to commit in service to his investigation.

He surprised her by saying, ‘I will make no promises, save to uncover the truth and pay any price I must to end the madness consuming this abbey.’

‘Then you’re not going inside that room,’ Syme said, his tone a warning that, despite his chosen vocation, he knew how to handle himself in a fight and wouldn’t be taken off guard again.

Do not take the bait, Estevar admonished himself when his hand reached for his rapier.If Caeda can suffer the injustice of this moment, you can surely keep your belligerence in check this once.

Facing the defiant monk, he said, ‘I will neither give you the assurances you seek nor bully you into giving way. Instead, I will simply ask you this, Brother Syme: if the abbot you so faithfully served was here, right now, knowing all that awaits us beyond that door and what it might mean for his legacy, what would he tell his trusted libatiger to do?’

The subsequent storm of conflicting emotions was predictable from someone who’d been raised to believe himself above others, and to never take insults lightly, but Estevar felt some admiration for him when, without further threat or complaint, he stepped aside.

Caeda went first, and as Estevar passed Brother Syme he placed a hand on the disheartened monk’s shoulder. ‘I met with Abbot Venia many times, shared innumerable correspondences with him. Always, I found him to be a kind, decent and profoundly spiritual person. Whatever became of him during his last hours, let us agree to withhold judgement, and remember that what transpired was a tragedy of which he too was a victim.’

Syme made no reply, only wept quietly, staring down at the brackish water flooding the ground.

‘The door’s locked,’ Caeda said from the end of the passage, pushing in vain on the rotting but still sturdy wood that was banded with iron.

‘The key, if you please?’ said Estevar. ‘Venia wouldn’t have left his priceless texts somewhere that could be easily breached, so I don’t blame you for taking steps to ensure no one else could enter after his death.’ He reached a hand into his greatcoat. ‘I can pick the lock myself, but that feels disrespectful to your master’s memory.’

At last, Syme produced the key from inside his robes and pushed past Caeda to unlock the door before stepping away so that she and Estevar could enter by themselves. The water to their calves made it hard to push the door open, but their joint efforts soon had it moving. The two of them entered the chamber, and Estevar bore witness to the Abbot of Isola Sombra’s final testimony.

Oh, Venia, he thought despairingly,what have you done?

CHAPTER 34

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