The Horns Of Ruin Part 13

She looked at me for a long time, breathing in coals and breathing out smoke.

"It had been long enough. He decided to run for it, before he was too weak to run at all."

"That was a bad decision," I said.

"Maybe. But it was his decision. He invoked a shield onto that pendant and gave it to me, then he peeled back his metal column and broke out into the car. There had been an explosion a minute earlier, and they had slowed down quite a bit. We thought maybe you were nearby. That we could hook up with you and run together."

"I had just left. Thirty seconds earlier-"

She cut me off. "Doesn't matter. They were distracted enough. He killed the couple who were in the car and made it to the tracks. There were a bunch in the courtyard. They saw us and started shooting, and we jumped the other way." She tapped off the cigarette and swallowed. "They had someone waiting."

"Who?"

"Betrayer. One of the true scions of the a.s.sa.s.sin. He might have been there the whole time, for all I know. Just ... stepped out of the shadows and struck the old man down."

"So he's dead. Barnabas is dead."

"Not that easy. He fell and then he rose. There was a h.e.l.l of a fight."

I remembered the icon of the Betrayer we found melted into the stonework, by the wreckage of the train. It made me proud, the old man going out like that.

"And that's how you got away. Your Betrayer buddy recognized one of his fellow Amonites and gave you a pa.s.s."

She stubbed out the cigarette. Folded her hands on the table in front of her. Stared at me.

"I don't really care what you believe. I escaped because he ignored me. Didn't care one lick about me. All he wanted was the Fratriarch. Honestly, that's all he could handle."

"So you ran? The old man fighting his last and you just ran."

"That's what he told me to do. He gave me the pendant and told me not to stop, no matter what happened. He told me to find you and get back to the Strength of Morgan. That the Warrior Cult needed me more than I could know."

"That's all? That's all he told you?"

"We were busy."

"Well, you got the running part down. Why didn't you come find me, like he said?"

"You didn't seem the understanding type. I didn't think you'd believe me, especially once that Betrayer showed up."

"I'm not sure I believe you now." I stood and gathered the dishes, then threw them in a wash bin and stretched. "Not sure I have much choice, though. So that's the last you saw of him. Fighting the Betrayer."

"That's the last I saw."

"Well. Here we are, I guess. Doesn't answer most of my questions."

"So you're not going to kill me?" she asked.

"Honey, if I were going to kill you, it would have happened a long time ago. You can relax."

She let out a long sigh, then drew and cut another cigarette. Her hand was shaking as she touched paper to the lighter.

"I'll work my way to relaxed, someday. You're not an easy lady to relax around. So what now?"

"Now we talk about why the Cult of Morgan needs you."

"What about Barnabas?" she asked.

"Barnabas is the Fratriarch of the Cult of Morgan, and the Warrior's True Sword on earth. He will have to take care of himself." I fiddled with the revolver I had left on the table while we ate, then picked it up and slid it back into the holster. "For now at least."

Footsteps hammered up the stairs behind us. Lots of them, and there was shouting. I motioned the girl back into the kitchen, then tossed the table on its side. Owen's lucky he was the first one in, and that the light was good enough for me to recognize him.

"What the h.e.l.l, Healer? You want me to shoot you?"

"Not yet. You need to get out of here."

"This is the Strength of Morgan, consecrated from ancient days to be the home of the Warrior's Cult." I spat, then stood. "Maybe you should be the one getting out."

"Alexander has declared the Cult of Morgan apostate. He claims that Simeon was conspiring with the Betrayer, that Morgan is working hand in hand with the outcast scions of Amon. That you're responsible for the attack on the Chanters today, and want to overthrow the Fraterdom."

"That's crazy. I was there, Owen. You were there. You know we didn't have anything to do with that attack."

"You don't understand. He's saying that you personally are responsible for the attack. There are Chanters saying they saw you in the wreckage, that the breach was some kind of Warrior's invokation."

"You're kidding."

"Why do you think I'm here, Eva? The building is surrounded. Patrols are working their way through the lower halls now, searching for you. I'm supposed to arrest you."

"Where the h.e.l.l is everyone?" I barked as we rushed along the hallway. "We've got enough food here for about a week. More if we get out of the city and can trap." I buckled up the pack I'd gotten from rummaging in the mess and tossed it to Ca.s.sandra. "You're the kitchen girl now. And you'll want to carry a weapon. You got any rifle training in you?"

"You think they spend a lot of time gun-training the scions of Amon the Betrayer?" she asked.

"Guess not. But it's a good thing to have. Here." We stopped at one of the few muster points that were still provisioned. I rattled through the cupboards and brought out a stubby Mots-Misley shotgun. Crowd-control stuff, but it could be plenty loud. "Even a Scholar couldn't miss with this thing."

The girl slung it over her shoulder, stuffed cartridges into the pockets of her robe, then looped the food packet onto her back. I saw that she was still carrying the cylinder of cigarettes.

"You've got the old man's lighter?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry. I can put it back."

"We'll need it. Never did learn to conjure fire. That's more a Healer trick."

"I'm standing right here," Owen said. "Don't pretend I'm not coming with you."

"You're not. You're already in trouble for warning us. I won't have you going apostate."

"Is this something we pretend to argue about and then I do whatever I want, or do we pretend to argue and then do whatever you want?"

"We pretend to argue and then I threaten to beat the tar out of you."

"Fair enough." He nodded. "What am I supposed to tell my unit commander? That I chased you down, found you, then lost track of you?"

"Something like that," I said, then stepped smartly in and put my fist under his chin. He dropped like a sack.

"You two are close," Ca.s.sandra said. "I hope we're never that close."

"Not a chance. Look through his pockets for anything useful," I said as I turned and ran down the hall.

"Where are you going?" she yelled after me.

"Gonna try to find the rest of my Cult." I turned a corner and then, under my breath, "Some son of a b.i.t.c.h has to be left. Can't all be gone, can they?"

Trick was, they were. Trick was, a lot of them were dead, piled up in the leeside barracks like logs of wood. Someone had done for them awful quick. A lot of puncture wounds, a lot of slit throats. b.l.o.o.d.y streaks where they'd been dragged in there, but no footprints of those who'd done the dragging. As soon as I found the bodies, I ran back to where I'd left Ca.s.sandra. She was still there, sitting on the ground next to the unconscious Owen.

"I wasn't sure if you were coming back, or if I was supposed to come find you."

"And what were you going to do if he woke up?" I asked. She shrugged. "Well, better that I came back."

"You find your Culties?"

"Nah. Not all of them at least." The Elders weren't there. Simeon was in a hospital somewhere, accused of apostasy. Maybe Isabel and Tomas had been taken too. All those folks in the barracks, they had been initiates, servants, couriers. Chefs. Just folks. Dead folks, now. "We'd best be going."

"There some secret pa.s.sage out of here?" Ca.s.sandra asked, struggling to keep up. I adjusted my stride.

"I haven't thought that far ahead yet. There's other stuff we need."

"We have food, we have weapons. We have the whole city of Ash on our tails. What else do we need?"

"You'll see. G.o.ds-blessed thing it is. d.a.m.ned, too. Oh, you'll see."

We hurried past the final resting place of most of my compatriots. Ca.s.sandra noticed the smears on the ground and gave me a look but didn't say anything. I just kept going on ahead. There were signs of struggle in a couple places. Small fights, quickly over. Blood on the tiles. I cursed myself for having taken Ca.s.sandra directly to the mess without checking out the rest of the monastery. All those dead, and no one to stand watch over their bodies in the Rest. No one to say the final rites, to invoke them to their graves. No one.

This would all have been alarming in less radical circ.u.mstances. I could hear the voices of Owen's companions below. Kicking in doors, securing rooms. Looking for me. Looking for us. I chanced a glance out one of the converted gun turrets. Sirens all around, the streets packed with whiteshirts. The military contingent hung back. Lot of people. Then again, how many people do you bring to arrest the Cult of the Warrior? Why not double that number, just to be safe?

Ca.s.sandra was starting to lag. She made a terrible mule. Twothirds of the way to our destination, in twice the time it should have taken, and I had had enough. I grabbed the pack of food and cut it off her back, then tossed it down the hallway.

"But-"

"We'll find food. We'll be fine. Come on."

"I was going to suggest you carry it," she said.

"Right, great idea. Maybe next time we're on the run."

We made the rest of the trip quick enough. I chanced a look into my room on the way by. The Paladins' quarters were technically two floors below, but they had been empty since I was a teenager. I moved up here to be closer to the Elders and their attendants, but still far enough away for it to be quiet.

My room had been ransacked. Nothing for me there, anyway. We went on. The Elders' rooms were in especial disrepair. No sign of Isabel or Tomas, but no blood, either. Any fight they had gotten into would have involved plenty of blood. Then again, I didn't see them as the type to run away. These were strange circ.u.mstances.

"You're spooking me," Ca.s.sandra said as I tiptoed around Isabel's room. "Are we looking for something? Someone?"

"Nope. Looks like all the Morganites who're still alive have made good their escape."

"All but us," she said, nervously.

"All but me." I clapped her shoulder on the way out. "Let's not pretend you're warrior material."

I left the living quarters behind and made the final ascent to the ballroom without looking back. Ca.s.sandra kept up, but it was straining her. I wanted her a little wiped out for the bit that was to come. Wasn't sure how she was going to react when I showed her the artifact. If she really was some kind of Amonite spy, sent to gain my trust and then steal the machine, I'd rather find that out while she was good and tired.

We paused long enough on the landing to secure the grand entrance doors. The entryway was concealed from the main ballroom by a length of curtain. I looked Ca.s.sandra over.

"Doing alright?" I asked.

"Well enough."

"Okay. Just follow close."

I drew my sword and swept the curtain aside. I wish I'd done it sooner. I wish I had been alone.

Barnabas lay there, at the edge of the compa.s.s rose. Crushed. The wide, delicate window was shattered, and gla.s.s surrounded him like sharp confetti. I stumbled to a halt, the sword sliding loosely to the ground. Without thinking, I was by his side, kneeling, the shards cutting my knees and palms. I turned him on his back, but there was no point. He wasn't breathing, wasn't even bleeding anymore. He just lay there in a pool of stiff blood, his eyes pale and open, his hands clenched into dead man's fists. He had been beaten, while he was still alive. His face showed it. Angry bands around his wrists showed where he had been bound. His gums were b.l.o.o.d.y from a gag, and he smelled of offal and p.i.s.s and long confinement. They had beaten him, an old man. They had beaten him, and they had killed him, and they had brought him here.

I closed his eyes, then went back and got my sword. Ca.s.sandra was standing by the entrance, her hands to her face. The b.i.t.c.h was crying. For all that it was her G.o.dsd.a.m.n fault that they had taken him, and she was crying. I knelt by the body of my friend, my only true father, and intoned the words of the Watchman's Dirge. Or tried to, but I was crying.

"We don't have time for this," Ca.s.sandra whispered.

"Shut up. I have to get the words right. I have to stand the watch I promised."

"We don't have time. You can pay your respects later, but we need to get- "I said shut up! I swore to him." I stood, pointing at the stiff old man at my feet. "I swore to the Fratriarch. There's no one else to stand his watch, and I'll be dead and d.a.m.ned if I'm going to let him just rot here. I don't care what they do. I don't care if they arrest me, or shoot me where I stand. I'm going to stand the watch I swore."

She stood there looking at me for a minute. I turned back to Barnabas and knelt, my forehead on the cool hilt of my sword. The words were hard to get right in my head, like everything was pouring out of my skull and all I could do was grab pieces of it. The Dirge went something like ... like A thousand walls, and I march my beat. A thousand walls to stand. A thousand nights to chill my soul, a thousand dawns to hope. A thousand- "And then what?"

I sighed against my sword, leaning against the steel. The words were slipping out of my head. A thousand dawns, ten thousand more, and a spear for every star.

"What will you do then? You'll stand this watch, fine. You'll bury the old man. And then what?"

"It won't matter. I'll be dead, like the others. It'll be over."

"It won't. Not for us, not for the people of Ash. Something's happening, Eva. Something's rising up. You think the House of Morgan is being knocked down because it's weak? Or because it's the only strong thing left?"

"The h.e.l.l do you know?" I looked at her over my shoulder. She had the shotgun in her hands, squeezing it until her knuckles were white. "What the h.e.l.l do you know?"

"I know that this was a good man. That he saved me, and he's probably saved you a couple times, and Brothers know who else. And they killed him."

I stared down at the Fratriarch. He looked better with his eyes closed. I could imagine the bruises were just from some brawl he'd gotten into, like when I was younger and he'd take me to the beater bars. To see the heart of the fight, he said. To see the ugly, violent, desperate, raw center of combat. Without the banners, the armor, the hors.e.m.e.n. Without the reason. Just the fight. And he always came away from those things laughing and b.l.o.o.d.y.

I pulled his arms across his body, pushed his fists into his sleeves. Arranged the body as it should be arranged. Then I stood up.

"A thousand spears against the sky, Brother," I said, and took out the pendant that he'd given Ca.s.sandra, and she had given me. I tossed it onto his chest. "You leave some for me, eh. I'll be there in a bit."