“Would you give the coldblooded killer act a rest for the night? You're not stupid—if you were going to kill me you'd have put one of those pointy sticks of yours through my spine the minute I headed for the door.” The Inquisitor walked back to the table and resumed sitting. “Why in Junan's name would you do something like this, Drys?”
“We thought it was a good idea at the time,” replied Drystan with a shrug. “We still do.”
“Bloody hell, Drystan, give me a real answer, not one of your jackass remarks!”
“I was dying and I had just seen the results of a monster chopping up seven Enkiri to make them into a portal into another world,” said the Inferi finally. “I walked through a field of fallen men and women who knowingly let themselves perish to keep creatures from Pandemonium from reaching our world. I saw Eral—the whole of our entire world, floating like a glass bauble within the branches of an infinite tree. I wish I could explain how utterly insignificant that made everything I'd grown up believing, I really do. But I don't even know where to start.”
Tiernan laughed coldly at the man's words. “You think everything I believe in is insignificant, do you now.”
“There's so much more to everything, Tier,” explained Drystan with a frown. “The church says that espiri witches are the worst evils known to mankind. I've seen people drink the blood of demons summoned from Pandemonium and then run off to do things that make killing fields look as safe as a patch of wildflowers. Hell, I've seen actual demons suck out the souls of men, slaughter them with shadows, and then burst out of their decomposing chests in full-grown pairs. And that's only what the smallest ones can do!”
“I want to believe you, but what proof do you have?” He shook his head. “You know me.”
“Yeah, I do.” The Inferi laughed and went back to sit in his chair. “You know that trinket Æbenforth was always grousing about having to get back? That was a demon claw—a schaden claw, specifically.”
Akkali watched Tiernan's expression intently, curious as to whether or not he'd let his grim-set face belie any hint of another emotion. To her dismay he just kept the same dour, betrayed look he'd had since Drystan told him the truth about Inferi. “It's been locked away in the Reliquary of the Abyss since before I became an Inquisitor. You know I can't request anything from there as Inquisitor Captain, and you know that I'm not getting any higher in rank because I'm not Imperial.”
Sighing, Drystan glanced sidelong at Akkali. “Lend me a hand here?”
The woman glared at him. “What, you want me to help you now? You both just told me and the dog to keep out of your business."
“Do you know how hard this is for me?” he hissed back, his eyes narrowed with a rare mix of anger and frustration. “Any idea at all?”
“Of course I do!” she railed at him, feeling the stitches along the side of her head tug as her expression twisted into a snarl. “Which is why I told you to keep your damn mouth shut! But no, you've high and mighty ideals about being honest with the zealot! Well you just found out for your damn self why it's better to lie about things like this.” She crossed her arms against her chest and leaned back against the wall. “Aside from that, what the hell could I tell him that would be any different than what you have already?”
“You have that book, don't you? The one Caspar sent you about the founders of Antenox.”
Ignoring the sour glare she received from Tiernan she growled, “Drys, what is the man going to do with that book besides burn it for not being on the list of things his sheep are allowed to read?”
“Just trust me on this.”
“My head hurts,” she retorted in a flat tone. “Get it yourself if you want to give it to him so he can turn it to kindling. I left it in your bag.”
Rising tiredly he shuffled back across the room to where he had left his travel bag stuffed in the narrow space between the wall and his bed. He returned a minute later with a deceptively new book reprinted by the absent-minded Inferi who had years ago managed to convince her that the Shalewarrens would be a good place for Antenox to hide one of their secretive repositories. Caspar had reprinted a number of books for her from the library, most of which she left with those who could make use of them.
The one she usually carried with her was a brief recollection of the first group of Inferi on Eral, a family of seven men and women who met with the refugee Enkiri and discovered what had become of the City untold centuries ago. Since it detailed the Tragedy of the City and did not include any of the mythical exploits of the hero-god Junan, the book was usually burned if any copies of it were found in the Empire. And since a majority of the printing presses in the world were located in the Empire, it was extremely rare to come across a tome that had survived the ravages of time intact and legible.
After passing the book to Tiernan he slumped back into his chair and leaned his head back to look out the window. Though it was still the pitch dark of pre-dawn the thick panes of glass braced by wrought iron frames were still being hammered repeatedly by sheets of thick, cold raindrops that occasionally glimmered in flashes of lightning. It showed no signs of letting up and Akkali guessed that it would be raining well into the day. “I hate highland weather.”
“You'd feel better if you changed out of your damn wet clothes, idiot,” Akkali remarked sourly, watching as Tiernan ran his hands over the book binding with an almost childish look of wonder on his face. “Goes for you too, zealot.”
The Inquisitor glanced up at her and his brow furrowed almost immediately. “I need to replace your bandages.”
She groaned at his lack of self-concern. “Your priorities astonish me.”
“No, you're bleeding through them. You probably ripped your stitches shouting at Drys—I don't know why you're not in pain from it.” He looked about to set the book down on the table when he noticed that the whole of it was slick with the rainwater that had been dripping off of him since they had come in. Instead he handed it out towards her and said, “I'm going to check for some downstairs. Hold this for me please.”
She snatched the tome from his hand with a sneer. Knowing that there was no way Akkali would believe him Drystan got to his feet and followed him out, miming that she should press her hand against the side of her head. “You really are bleeding badly, Kali. We'll be back in a minute.”
Not having noticed a thing she raised her fingers to the wound and felt them dampen with warm blood. Sighing, she pressed the palm of her hand against the bandage wrapping up the stitches and wondered if either of them would really return, or if Tiernan would simply blindside Drystan on the way down the stairs and take off for the church to gather a mob of holy men bearing burning brands.
Shockingly they returned a few minutes later, Drystan leading the way. Akkali had the overwhelming urge to shout at him for letting Tiernan walk behind him when she caught sight of a familiar short woman with a tight braid of brown hair exactly the same shade as her eyes bringing up the rear. Wearing a warm woolen overcoat beneath a rain-slicked oilskin cloak she looked rather odd without her lamellar armor. No less dangerous, but somehow less harsh than usual.
Farseeth noticed her sitting on the bed and hung her cloak over a peg hammered into the back of the door as she shut it behind herself, then waved at her with a two-fingered salute. “How do you fare, Akkali?”
“Sacha, Erathi,” said the Enkiri in greeting to the woman and her unseen revenant. “I'm up a few Returners. You?”
The Taskmaster grinned at her answer. “I castrated a seneschal the other day—verbally, at any rate. Erathi says you look like shit, by the way. She blames your choice of traveling companions. Not the corporeal one.” She ceased any further inquiries with a sharp wave of her hand. “We received your message from Kvasir. What did you find in the warrens?”
“Figures he'd be punctual about that one but draw a blank on telling us you were in Baedorn in the first place,” muttered Drystan under his breath. Akkali caught the fleeting grin of amusement on Tiernan's face as he began to unwrap her bandages and examine her stitches, then ignored his muttering of something unintelligible but frustrated at his findings. “It was an Oratio, apparently with the spirit of another Oratio attached to him, creating homunculi. There weren't any signs he'd been influenced by demons, though. At least none we could sense before he brought the whole cavern down on our heads.”
Nodding curtly Farseeth walked over and sat down on Akkali's bed. The two of them fit perfectly side-by-side on the narrow cot and she looked the Enkiri over with a critical eye. “I take it that's how you were hurt.”
“I've lived through worse, and been less a pair of nursemaids. I'm not counting the corporeal one.”
This brought an amused smile to the woman's face and she slouched down to settle her head on the under-stuffed pillow Akkali was sitting on. Jansa curiously sniffed at her kneecaps and boots, then rested her head against the woman's thigh and resumed sleeping at Akkali's feet as the Taskmaster scratched the side of the dog's muzzle. “Anything else of significance, Nighttyr?”
“Other than the fact he was a raving lunatic?”
“He kept going on about some woman moving south. Not the female spirit he had in his possession.” Tiernan hesitated for a moment, then reached into his satchel and produced his notebook, handing it to the Taskmaster. “The last ten pages.”
“You should take a cue from your friend, Nighttyr, and start keeping notes,” chided Farseeth as she flipped the book open to the pages he had specified and began to read silently and quickly. Without looking up she reached into the pocket of her trousers and produced a folded parchment, then passed it over to Tiernan almost as an afterthought. “Coneflower leaves. I figured one of you would get into the bloody kind of trouble—thought it would be you though, Inquisitor. You look remarkably hale for having had a cavern collapse upon your head.”
“Yes, well, we all had assistance.” Tiernan accepted the package with a quick word of thanks, then set about remedying whatever had gone wrong with her wound with thread and needle. Not quite sure if she should be feeling any sort of pain with him re-stitching her flesh together, she stared across the room at Drystan, who had shed his sullen mood for the time being and was grinning in unabashed amusement at her predicament. She had half a mind to reach out and kick the smirk off his face but she knew that if she did that Tiernan would just take even longer to fix whatever he thought was wrong.
A quarter of an hour later, just as he finished packing and wrapping the cut with the faintly purple leaves and fresh cheesecloth commandeered from what smelled like the root cellar of the inn, Farseeth finished reading through his journal and had become notably more grim-faced herself. It wasn't the kind of expression Akkali had seen often on the woman, as when she was not having to be Taskmaster she was quite lighthearted and remarkably sly with insults and admonitions. Something was very wrong within Antenox if even Sacha Farseeth was neglecting to make at least one snide joke about the Enkiri's having to put up with a man from an order everyone knew she loathed.
“Get your rest,” the Taskmaster declared, though in reality she was only Drystan's commander and knew full well Akkali never listened to anything anyone ordered her to do. She passed Tiernan's notebook back to him and sat up. “Nighttyr, a word with you, downstairs. Get out of your soaking clothes and meet me there. It never ceases to amaze me how you two never notice those things.”
Sighing, Drystan languidly shuffled back across the room yet again to find himself a dry set of clothing as Farseeth rose to her feet, reclaimed her cloak, and let herself out. It was Akkali's turn to sneer at him mockingly and she took every opportunity to do so, even when he was standing in his smallclothes attempting to stick his feet through the proper legs of his trousers with only one eye open.
“You really have no modesty do you,” Tiernan commented under his breath, doing a third check of his work before he was satisfied enough to quit prodding at her.
“No, I have nothing of what you zealots consider ladylike modesty,” she retorted with a sneer. “But if it shall make you feel better I'll go outside while you change, Ser Bashful. I know there's a rule somewhere that says you're going straight to a fiery afterlife for seeing an unmarried woman without clothes... and you don't look rich enough to buy yourself a ticket out of that caravan.”
Drystan stabbed a finger towards her once again and warned, “Stop poking at him for a while, will you? And don't go anywhere until I get back.”
“Wouldn't dream of it,” replied Akkali with a wide catlike grin that made Tiernan check her stitches for a fourth time. “I love it when you get in trouble with Sacha. You never listen to me and I tell you the same damn things.”
The Inferi rolled his eyes at her and exited the room, leaving her to sit patting Jansa's sleeping head while looking at Tiernan. After spending a minute or so frowning at her he finally said, “Did he give you the same story when you met?”
“What story?”
“Finding a spirit in the City, saving the world from demons crap.” The Inquisitor stood and re-ordered his medical supplies, then folded up the leather wrap he kept them in and replaced them in his satchel. He studied her face intently, his brows knitting together over his narrow nose. “It's the stuff of bard's tales. The really unbelievable ones.”
“It's not crap,” said Akkali in as serious a tone as she could manage without threatening to outright kill the man. “For being a a member of the Holy Inquisition you have an ironic lack of faith.”
“Even you have to admit it is an awful lot to accept without proof."
“Well you and I have very different opinions on what things need proving,” she said to him with a wave of her hand. She tossed the Antenox history back at him with a side-armed throw and he caught it between his hands with a loud slap. “Make your own decision, zealot.”
Eyeing the book quietly for a minute, he looked back at her and asked, “What happens if you don't like what I think?”
“Just what makes you believe I give a piss what you think about anything?” she retorted with a shrug. “All that matters is what you decide to do.” She watched a talon of lightning streak from cloud to cloud beyond the window. “And if what you decide to do is harm them, that's when we find out whether or not Drys and Arathron can actually stop me.”