Page 74 of Crucible of Chaos

Estevar gazed out towards the statuary where the man who’d once been the humble, almost bumbling Abbot Venia now looked down upon him with the wise and terrible eyes of a newly born god. Estevar knew he couldn’t be heard over the thunder and the chanting and all the rest of the infernal concert praising Venia’s ascension, but he was confident his old acquaintance would know what he said next.

‘Judge me without mercy, Eminence.’

‘What are you mumbling about?’ Strigan asked. ‘What nonsense– why would we hold a trial in the prayer caves?’

Estevar summoned the strength to stand on his own just long enough to say what both the law and his pride required of him before collapsing to the filthy flagstones. ‘Mother Leogado, Brother Strigan, Inquisitor Agneta and Malezias of Isola Sombra, I regret to inform you that the four of you are under arrest.’

CHAPTER 41

OPENING ARGUMENTS

‘Is your mind clear?’ How many times had that simple question haunted Estevar during these vexatious days? How many times had he passed out and had to be dragged somewhere by the mercy of others?

Consciousness tugged at him with slow, disagreeable persistence, but he kept his eyes closed a few moments longer, determined not to abandon what few rituals he could call his own.

His aching back told him he was lying on uneven stone, and beneath the stench of the sewer, which had suffused not just his clothes but those of everyone shouting at one another nearby, he detected the sweaty, musty, wonderful scent of mule. Imperious’ breathing was a low rumble that became a kind of growl every time footsteps approached his erstwhile rider–all save the light, oddly distant ones of the only visitor the mule would allow.

‘Estevar?’ she asked.

‘Piccolo,’ he said, smiling. His eyes were still closed.

A warm, callused palm came to rest against his forehead. ‘Brother Agneta put salve on your wounds, but you’re feverish again. Can you get up? The others are becoming. . . restless.’

A fiendish howl echoed from the abbey down through the storm grates and into the tunnels beyond the prayer room. No doubt that howl was the being which had once been Abbot Venia, displeased at the prospect of a trial being held over which anyone but himself should dare preside.

Well, perhaps you shouldn’t have sent that damned letter begging me to come and arbitrate the dispute between your monks, then, Estevar thought. To Caeda he said, ‘Help me to stand.’

She moved behind him and knelt down, putting her arms under his to help lever him into a seated position. She waited for a sign that he wasn’t going to collapse again, and when he opened his eyes and nodded to her, she supported him while he got to his feet before handing him the broken-bladed rapier he’d abandoned in the courtyard. He slid the shortened weapon into its sheath.

His vision cleared, revealing the now-familiar slanting walls and curved ceiling hewn from the rocky prayer cavern.Someone was approaching him from the other side of the chamber, the dim light of a single flickering torch set in an iron sconce mounted to the wall making the figure appear more shadow than man. As he neared, Estevar found himself staring into the deep-set eyes of Malezias. The former monk’s broad shoulders were hunched like those of a pugilist deciding which part of his opponent’s face to pummel first. Though Caeda was still behind Estevar, steadying him, he could almost feel her glare.

Malezias held up his hands in submission and stepped back.

Brother Strigan, still naked, still untroubled by it, smirked at the big man’s retreat. Mother Leogado, her dark skin lustrous in the reflected light of the flaming torch, couldn’t hide her disgust whenever she glanced at the Wolf-King. Brother Agneta, patiently reloading her wheellock pistols, clearly viewed them both as tiresome children.

Surrounded by the crude engravings of Tristia’s original six gods, Estevar speculated on his unwilling companions, and to which of those deities each might correspond.

‘You would be War,’ Estevar said softly to Imperious, stroking the mule’s reddish-brown mane, ‘for you are fierce and brave and undaunted even by demons.’

‘What did you say?’ Strigan asked, presuming some quietly spoken insult.

‘Nothing of consequence, I can assure you,’ Agneta said. ‘If the Trattari’s going to drone on again about trials, we may as well prepare to be eaten alive by your former followers. I for one will not be pandering to a Greatcoat’s vanity.’

And yet you brought me here, didn’t you, Estevar thought,unlike our first inauspicious meeting, when you left me to bleed out in the ruined statuary. So you are not quite so convinced of my insignificance as you pretend.

‘I should be reassembling my troops,’ Mother Leogado said.

‘Your troops switched sides,’ Strigan pointed out.

She looked untroubled, but wasn’t unshakeable self-confidence the first requirement of any military commander? Stepping away from the torchlight, she approached Estevar. ‘You were valiant in the courtyard, and not without tactical insight. Tell me what other weaknesses you have gleaned regarding the demons infesting my abbey, and I will do my best to see that you’– she waved at the others– ‘thatallof you survive the night.’

‘Yourabbey?’ Strigan asked. ‘Did you not happen to notice that Abbot-fucking-Venia isn’t actually done with it yet? Besides, who elec—’

‘I imagine our arrogant general elected herself dictator-for-life shortly after it turned outyourfollowers were the demons all along,’ Brother Agneta said, closing the powder pan and pulling out the other pistol. ‘Thatiswhat caused all this, isn’t it?’ she asked Estevar. ‘The idiot Wolf-King sought to garner the power of faith unto himself and his lackeys, but managed instead to transform them into demons.’

Estevar nodded. ‘The rituals of theSacrificia Purgadis, combined with the unique spiritual potency of this island, have made this possible. But the blame does not lie entirely with Strigan.’

‘Then whoisto blame?’ Caeda asked.

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