Page 53 of Crucible of Chaos

In the gloom of the wine cellar, the shifting light of the brass lantern swaying in Caeda’s hand lent an ominous, almost sinister gleam to her face. ‘Abbot Venia always said the first gods were created when the storms over Isola Sombra struck the ores beneath the ground and the mystical forces released were then bound by the faith of the original Tristian slaves penned up in the caves under what’s now the abbey. Their prayers gave us the gods– of War, Love, Craft, Coin. But now those gods are dead, or maybe returning but not fully formed yet, so all that spiritual essence is still out there, waiting to be shaped.’ She stopped and looked over at Estevar, nervous that he’d find her conjectures silly.

‘Proceed, Piccolo. Your thoughts echo mine.’

She smiled, gratitude in those storm-grey eyes. ‘The three factions. The Bone-Rattlers are traditionalists, insisting the old gods will return. Leogado’s Trumpeters want new ones better suited to our times. And then there’s Strigan with his Hounds wanting to steal the spiritual powers of this place for themselves. The brethren were already pulling in different directions before any of this happened, but then someone poisoned them, and they all became wilder–more fervent in their beliefs and desires.’ The smile left her face entirely as she came to the same conclusion he had. ‘Estevar, what if the spiritual essence left behind by the death of the gods reallyisreturning to Isola Sombra, only now it’s not being guided by faith. It’s being shaped by. . .’

She stopped, as if not wanting to say the word out loud, but a magistrate’s first duty was to the truth, so Estevar uttered the unspeakable word for her. ‘Madness,’ he said, taking her hand to lead her out of the cellar and up the stairs. ‘The alchemy of those mystical forces that once gave Tristia its gods is being transmuted by the delusional zealotry of monks who have abandoned their faith, leading inexorably to the birth of a pantheon devoted to chaos!’

PART THE SIXTH

THE SIGILS OF SILENCE

Once those who come in darkness and to darkness transport the sin-infused spirit of the sacrifice, the flesh that remains must be quieted. Terror, horror and despair leave their own imprints upon the body even after the will that once gave it life is gone. Thus by these three sigils will the screams that still reside beneath the skin be forever silenced.

CHAPTER 30

SILENT WISDOM

‘Oh,’ Estevar added, wagging his finger in the air, ‘and I forgot to mention that after Venia’s murder, the margrave sent a dozen knights to the island with orders to destroy the untainted barrels of wine.’ He looked into the eyes of his audience. ‘So there was indeed a lot in common with the case of the Dancing Plague.What do you think, my friend?’

‘You’re even more of an ass than he is, you know that?’ Caeda asked.

Estevar reached out a hand to stroke Imperious’ muzzle. The bandage had come off, but the skin around the stitched gash was still glowing an angry red. ‘A mule is not an ass, if that was meant to be a joke.’

‘PerhapsI’mthe ass, then, for thinking you valued my opinion,’ Caeda said, trudging angrily to the stable doors. The rains had returned, which, Estevar supposed, was probably the only reason she didn’t walk off and leave him there.

‘I value no one’sopinionwhen the fate of my adopted country is at stake,’ he reminded her. ‘What I need isinsight, which neither you nor I have been able to summon on our own.’

She strode back as quickly as she’d left. Jabbing a finger at Imperious, she asked, ‘And you thinkhe’sgoing to provide it?’

Estevar pushed himself back to his feet and reached into the sack of carrots that Malezias, former soldier and failed monk, had managed to scrounge or steal at Caeda’s behest.

It is a hard thing to love, is it not, my big friend?he thought, though he doubted Malezias considered him in such generous terms.And yet, devotion simplifies our lives, too. You would do anything she asks and it matters not one whit that she will never return that love.

With a lot of urging, Imperious grudgingly took a few nibbles from the carrot, leaving Estevar even more fearful that the once-dauntless beast had lost his spirit.

‘He listens,’ Estevar said, as much to himself as Caeda. ‘Does he understand my words? Probably not. But there is more to wisdom than knowledge.’ He placed his hand on the mule’s neck, taking comfort from the thick hair tickling his palm. ‘He reacts to my tone of voice. He brays and rumbles, clacks his teeth and stamps his hooves. This is how he responds to my troubled and scattered emotions. It is a language I cannot speak, one whose workings I may never comprehend, and yet he steadies me,bringing me back to those deeper truths too often lost in the tangle of facts and clues.’

Caeda came closer, trying not to admit to any curiosity. ‘And what does he tell you now? Has the great Imperious solved the case?’

Outside, the distant rumble of thunder warned that the soft patter of rain outside the stable was only a precursor to the return of the storm. Estevar was about to reassure the mule, but for once, the noise wasn’t panicking him as it had before.

He smiled, removing his hand from Imperious’ neck and bending down to allow himself the perhaps embarrassing comfort of resting his cheek against the big sorrel head. ‘Having heard the account of my investigation thus far, the great and wise Imperious reproaches me.’

‘Reproaches you? How? For what?’

A second rumble of thunder, closer this time, and still the mule was unmoved.

‘You are indeed correct, my friend,’ he said quietly, then to Caeda, ‘He reminds me that ever since I set foot upon this island, my attention has been diverted by the loudest voices. Strigan’s boasting set off my own belligerence. Mother Leogado’s unshakeable convictions appealed to my sense of honour. Even Brother Agneta’s cynicism sparked my love of debating the finer points between clerical laws and those I serve. And, of course, the demons distracted me by turning all my thoughts to the supernatural elements of this case.’

‘And me?’ Caeda asked, the edge in her voice betraying her fears. ‘Have I been a “distraction” from your investigation?’

Estevar considered his words carefully. She was brittle, this one, and deserving of more kindness than he could give her. ‘You, my Piccolo, have been the greatest distraction of them all.’ He stood back up so she could see his face and, hopefully, sense his sincerity. ‘But not all distractions are bad, nor are they all born of deceit. You have been the finest detective’s assistant I have ever known.’

Imperious’ belly made a noise that sounded suspiciously like the prelude to the unleashing of noxious gases in protest.

‘Thesecondfinest detective’s assistant,’ Estevar clarified, but the gurgling intestinal noise repeated. ‘The second finestseniordetective,’ he conceded at last, then waited to see what verdict the mule would impose on him.

After a few moments, the mule’s stomach settled.

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