A High Priest too. And one that held such a high position within the village. The Divine City had rooted itself on this island. Or perhaps they forced their way in. They weren't above using crude or deceitful tactics to achieve their goals.
Octavia didn't allow her aloofness to bleed into her face as his hand enveloped hers. The crows feet at the corners of his hazel eyes were his only visible sign of age. His copper skin shined clean, smooth and healthy, and not a strand of grey hair marred his black curls. He couldn't be a day over thirty. All the other High Priests she'd met were well advanced in age, some of them with one foot in the grave.
"It's a pleasure to meet you both," she said with a polite smile.
Beatrix picked up a sheet of parchment from a fat stack and perused it for a moment before cutting her eye back to Octavia. "How long have you been teaching music?"
"Since I was about this high." She indicated a height slightly above the armrest of the chair. To most people that would seem like a normal length of time. But in actuality she'd been keeping up this farce of being a music teacher for nearly two lifetimes.
"I see, well, you have quite the impressive set of recommendations. It seems you're well traveled." She shuffled through the stack before picking out one. "Jaredeth in particular had nothing but good things to say about you. Although he was very vague on his reasoning for why you left."
"I was only meant to be there on a temporary basis. They'd already made arrangements for another, permanent teacher." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the entire truth either. She only stayed in one place for as long as she was needed. Once the scourge left, so did she.
"Do you know how he managed to rid his town of the netherborne?" Sicero asked.
His voice sent a ripple of shock through Octavia, not only because she'd nigh forgotten he was sitting next to her, but also because of his accent. She hadn't noticed the musical lilt flowing through his words before; its sweet, gentle cadence was like the first birdsong of spring
"No, I was not privy to such information." The lie slipped easily from her lips, but made her feel dirty nonetheless. She was used to it. Lying about her intentions. Lying about who and what she really was. But her brand of deception was for the greater good, so she would continue lying through her teeth until that greater good was achieved.
A knock sounded on the door, and Lyle shuffled in carrying a tray of tea and pastries, which he set on a clear spot of the desk before leaving.
For a while, only the sounds of tea pouring and silverware against porcelain filled the room. The sweet and spicy smell of the tea mixed with the buttery and fruity scent of the pastries, an intoxicating bouquet that turned the hollow space in her stomach into a bottomless chasm.
Octavia accepted the cup Lady Beatrix offered her with a nod of gratitude.
"Let's leave the netherborne talk out of this, shall we?" Beatrix gave Sicero a stiff-lipped look which he ignored.
"Why? You don't think she deserves to know what she's getting herself into?" He stirred a heaping spoon of sugar into his tea.
Octavia raised a brow. "Enlighten me then."
Sicero took a sip of his tea before speaking. "Forgive me if I sound flippant Miss Octavia. The netherborne attacks on this island have been brutal, even more so than what Jaredeth had to deal with. My priests do their best, but we've still had casualties. I hope you realize that by accepting this job you also accept the risks that come along with it. I cannot guarantee your safety."
She'd heard this speech many times before, sometimes as a warning, sometimes to scare her off. "With all due respect, Councilman, I didn't ask you to guarantee me anything. I know the scourge. I've seen villages torn down overnight and I've had netherborne breathing down my neck as I ran for my life. Whatever the risks are, I'm prepared to deal with them, but I appreciate your honesty."
"I see. I didn't mean to insinuate that you're helpless. I just wanted to caution you." The sincerity shining in his gaze made her throat dry up despite the warmth from the tea. Hundreds of netherborne, daywalkers and sincerity from a High Priest. What a bizarre place this was.
"Consider me cautioned, then."
"Good," Beatrix said, drawing their attention back to her. "As far as ground rules go, civilians aren't allowed beyond the barrier, and we try to limit activity at night. So try to stay inside after dark unless there's an emergency."
"Understood."
"Unfortunately, because of economic constraints, we won't be able to pay you as well as Jaredeth did. But we'll do our best to make sure you're comfortable."
Octavia gave a dismissive wave. "If money was a concern, I would've stayed in Avaly."
For a moment, the authoritative air around the Chief Councilor cleared, replaced with a warmth that made her eye glow. "Thank you, Octavia. You have no idea how much this means to the children, and to me. Music has been a very important part of this island's culture. I don't want the netherborne to take it away from us too."
She smiled. Beatrix's conviction in the face of adversity was admirable and rare. Octavia had seen many villages and towns that had all but given up, resigning themselves to whatever misery the netherborne brought upon them. "I'll do my best."
"That's what I like to hear. Most of the children already have a firm grasp of the basics, but they haven't had a proper musician teaching them for almost a year, so they may be a tad rusty." Beatrix pulled a key from a drawer before sliding it across the desk. "For your residence. You can take today to rest and start tomorrow. Winslet will be there to guide you."
The Chief stood and extended her hand. "I look forward to seeing you mold the little ones into bright young musicians. Please don't hesitate to ask if you need anything."
"I'll try not to disappoint." Octavia clasped forearms with the woman out of habit—a gesture common amongst necromancers but not so common amongst ordinary humans. But Beatrix didn't seem to mind.
"All right." She set her empty teacup on the tray. "Lyle!"
He burst into the office a split second later and saluted smartly. "Yes ma'am."
Beatrix sat back on her throne and crossed her legs. "Make sure Miss Octavia gets settled in."
"Yes ma'am."
Octavia followed him out of the office, and moments later they were back in the carriage, rolling along the quiet streets. The dusting of snow coating the village was pristine, undisturbed. No tracks from animals or people. In Avaly, children would be out playing in the freshly fallen snow, even when the scourge remained a threat.
As the buildings drifted by Octavia thought about what Sicero had said in the office. That her life was in danger. It was funny, yet not at the same time. Of all the people in this village, she was probably in the least amount of danger—the best equipped to deal with the scourge. Unless there was another necromancer lurking around somewhere. An unlikely possibility with all the priests hanging around.
Octavia slid the curtain over the window. "Lyle, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, anything," he said, with a smile.
"When was the last netherborne attack?"
His smile fell, and his features became cast in shadow as he leaned back in his seat. "About two weeks ago, I guess."
"Was it deadly?"
The boy shook his head. "Thankfully, we lost no one that time. Sicero and his priests do a good job. They erected a barrier around the entire town to help keep the netherborne out."
Then how did they still get in? Unless the barrier was too weak. Maintaining one of that size would take considerable effort. "How often are there attacks?"
"They come in unpredictable bursts and spasms. Sometimes we'll get three attacks in a week and then have none for months. There was a time when we got five attacks in a single night. It gets rough." Lyle winced as though the memory had stung him. "But I really shouldn't complain. I haven't lost any close friends or family members. Wish I could say the same thing for everyone."
"I'm sorry." It seemed so patronizing, but Octavia didn't know what else to say.
"Don't apologise, Miss Octavia. It's necromancers that brought this scourge upon us. They're the reason innocent people have to suffer." The venom in his words stung her ears. But she couldn't fault him. If it weren't for a necromancer, the netherborne wouldn't be a problem.
"This is it," Lyle announced as they rolled up to a quaint little home. It sat atop a small hill at the end of the street, but still a good distance from the edge of the forest that surrounded the village. A shoveled path cut through the snow from the road to the front porch.
Octavia ascended the steps, the wood groaning beneath her feet. Empty clay pots hung from the rafters by rusted chains, and planters sat in the window boxes, decay eating pock holes into them. She fished the key from her pocket and unlocked the door. Her luggage was just beyond the threshold, undamaged and stacked together in a neat pile.
A loveseat and armchair sat arranged around a wooden coffee table. Frilly doilies and throws decorated the surfaces and paintings of landscapes adorned the walls. There wasn't a speck of dust or ash in the unlit hearth, and the curtains blocked out all light from beyond the windows.
It looked like an old woman's house. But Octavia was, by definition, an old woman, so she had no room to complain.
"There should be some wood in the kitchen if you want to get a fire going. It's right through there." Lyle pointed to a door next to a set of wooden steps. "Upstairs is the bedroom. One of the windows can only open halfway, but I'm sure that won't be a problem. Is there anything I can help you with before I go?"
"I'll be fine," Octavia said. "You've done a lot for me already. Thank you for your hospitality."
He gave a sheepish grin. "It was no trouble at all. I hope you enjoy your stay here."
When the door clicked shut, she collapsed onto the nearest chair, listening to the clopping sounds of the horses pulling the carriage away. After two days on the sea her body felt more like brittle wood and putty rather than flesh and bone. But there was no time to rest.
Normally, when she came to a new place to purge it of the netherborne, she would take time to assess the situation before acting. But she wasn't sure if she had that luxury here. With the Divine City rooted on this island it would be best if she made herself scarce.
Three months was the usual amount of time it took to get a village back on its feet, if there were no hiccups. But that time could whittle down to a month if she left Jaredeth to do the diplomatic work.
Octavia rubbed her face. Scourge first, details later. She rose and went to the kitchen. Jars filled with spices, grain and marmalade lined the shelves. A coldbox below them had eggs and milk, and fresh fruit and vegetables sat in a large basket on the counter.
She crossed to the sizable pile of wood near the back door and picked up two pieces before returning to the living room. Once there was a healthy fire going, she dug into her bags for her necromantic books and tomes.
The rosebud warmed against her skin, its hiss like a whisper in her ear. She could use it. It could annihilate the netherborne with little effort. No. No gimmicks. She would do this herself, with her own strength, with sin and symphony.
Octavia flipped through the largest text, eyes scanning the pages of endless staves and notes and symbols. Judging by the glimpse of the scourge she'd seen on her carriage ride, it was safe to assume the netherborne had taken over the rest of the island. She'd have to play well into the night to deal with them all. Then there were the daywalkers
Fine. If her breath failed her, then she'd beat the rhythms of sin and symphony into the hardwood floor. Whatever it took.
Octavia took her flute case and popped the latches. The dark brown colour of the instrument was nigh identical to her skin. Honey-coloured marbling accented the wood's rich pigment and a gold tassel hung from one end. It was her oldest and most sacred weapon. Thousands of netherborne had fallen to the melodies she'd evoked from it.
Tonight would be no different. She dragged the armchair to the window and took several deep breaths to prime her lungs for the long night ahead. She let her power flow out naturally with the melody. And in that moment she became sin and symphony, standing in the midst of the army of netherborne. Thousands of grotesque, shadowy forms surrounded her, gnashing their teeth, eyes glinting with centuries old hatred.
Be it a thousand, a million or an endless army. She would fight them all. Her song would chase the moon through midnight and into dawn, and it would bring back a tomorrow free from the scourge of the netherborne.