Page 35 of The Malevolent Eight

See what I mean? He just couldn’t let that one pass.

A cruel smile came to Fidelity’s thin lips. ‘Divine Providence need not be granted only to the deserving for such omens to command our obedience.’ She reached down and grabbed the Jan’Tep girl by the jaw, forcing her to her feet. ‘As we are too far from the sanctuary to summon an Arbitrator, surely the Auroral Sovereign has decided that Gallantry should now serve in the role and, with his renowned wisdom, determine the wicked one’s sentence.’

It was barely a year since I’d been inducted into the service of the Celestine of Justice and I wasn’t nearly ready to serve as an Arbitrator. I was untrained in the eccentricities of Auroral Law, especially when it came to cases involving beings from other planes of reality who were, in some contexts, unbound by the rules and punishments meant for those of us from the Mortal realm. Yet Fidelity had foisted this dubious honour upon me, knowing I couldn’t refuse for fear of confirming my inadequacy as a Justiciar and my unworthiness to stand among my fellow Glorians. It also meant she and the others were expecting me to level the severest penalty upon the foreign girl.

I wept, first with shame over my cowardice, then for failing to feel the righteousness I knew guided the others, and finally, for this sixteen-year-old looking up to me as if somehow my tears were evidence of compassion for her plight. But compassion requires courage, not ‘Gallantry’.

Such a stupid fucking name. Why did I ev—?

‘Again, you drift,’interrupted the Celestine of Justice. ‘You claim to seek clarity and yet you insist on clouding those events with your present self-judgement.’

‘No, seriously. That’s exactly what I was thinking at the time. Gallantry was, is and shall ever be a fucking embarrassing name.’

But as the trial played out before me, every word, every argument, every shameful and trivial evidentiary ruling, I finally understood why it had been so easy for those memories to become lost in the blissful delusions of righteousness offered by the Auroral Haze. When at last the trial was done, I uttered the verdict with the quavering voice of a coward who’d fooled himself into believing he was a hero.

‘Execution,’ I said, then stepped back and waited for the others to concur.

Fidelity laughed. Despite everything I’ve said about her, she had a lovely laugh, rich and rumbling. It always made you want to smile– well, except after selling out a fellow human being and your own conscience.

‘I beg,’ she began, drawling that second word, ‘to differ.’

‘What?’ I asked, so shocked by this unexpected turnabout that I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what Fidelity was playing at.

The others looked equally confused. Even Indomitability couldn’t find a way to turn this into a good sucking-up occasion. ‘You wish to appeal the Arbitrator’s verdict?’ he asked, then added hastily, shooting a glare at the others, ‘which is the right of any of us, of course.’

Fidelity made a show of contemplating the shaking, cowering girl before us. ‘Justice is more than the absence of compassion,’ she said, shaking her head in apparent disappointment. ‘I fear you grow too zealous in your desire to appear righteous, Gallantry.’

The others fell in line, quickly convincing themselves that my verdict– the very one they would’ve demanded of me had I gone the other way– betrayed me as a cruel, callous youth too soon risen to their ranks. After I then overturned my own sentence and sought redemption by offering to perform the Ritual of Exile on the defendant myself– a painful and all-around unpleasant duty, I assure you– Fidelity surprised me a second time.

‘No,’ she said, and took the Jan’Tep girl’s hands in her own before kissing each palm. ‘The child has suffered enough. Return to the Justiciars’ Hall, all of you. I will perform the ceremony myself and see to it that the defendant reaches the destination called for by our esteemed Arbitrator’s new-found mercy.’

The vision ended, not so much fading away as becoming shrouded ever more deeply behind the golden fog of the Auroral Haze. My gleaming armour slipped off my shoulders like rotting gossamer, my hair darkened to its natural black. Even my nose returned to being slightly crooked, a parting gift from those same Glorian comrades when I abandoned their company. I was stepping backwards through the fog, not of my own volition, as the Archives expelled me from their hallowed halls. Just as the cathedral began coming back into view, I felt a hand grab me and yank me into another part of the mists.

‘You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you?’ asked the cowering Jan’Tep girl. I could feel her shaking through the fingers wrapped around my forearm. She looked even worse than she had moments before.

‘How—?’ I turned, my eyes searching through the fog that was no longer golden but a kind of sickly green. I couldn’t make out the cavern I’d been in before nor the cathedral to which I should already have returned. ‘What’s happening?’ I asked. ‘Where are we?’

She took her hand away. ‘It’s too late now. Don’t think asking questions will make it any better. Knowledge isn’t justice, any more than a guilty conscience is restitution for what you didn’t do.’

The girl was still young, still dressed as when last I’d seen her. I made a pre-emptive attempt to awaken my attunement, though my spells hadn’t worked on her last time we met, but I felt nothing. I was trapped.

‘How are you doing this to me, Spellslinger?’ I asked.

She shook her head, wisps of mahogany brown hair whipping this way and that. ‘I’m not her. Not yet.’ She glanced around us as if she were seeing something more than just mist and fog. ‘I’m still here. Still locked up.’

‘Who are you at this moment, then?’

‘Nobody. Not really. They call me Abomination. You did, too, so just call me that.’

‘No. What’s your name? Your real name?’

‘Eliva,’ she began, then straightened, standing a little taller. ‘Eliva’ren, daughter of the House of Ren, a middling family of mages from the city of Oatas Jan’Xan, who thought she could bring honour to her name, her blood and her people.’ She saw my confusion and grinned. ‘Looks like I’ll be somebody soon, though. Somebody dangerous.’ She reached out with her fingers as if she were trying to clutch onto a wisp of air. ‘Maybe not, though. Maybe I’ll just rot in here until they’re done experimenting on me.’

‘Who?’ I asked. ‘Eliva,whatexperiments? Where are you?’

‘Eliva’ren,’ she corrected me. ‘Don’t talk like we’re friends. Not yet, anyway.’

‘Okay, fine. Eliva’ren, daughter of the House of Ren of the city of Oatas Jan’Xan, tell me where you are. Tell me how I ca—’

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