had never, in all the years Saint John had known him, smiled. Not once. His scalp was tattooed with a tangle of thornbushes through which centipedes crawled.
“How goes the crusade?” asked Saint John.
“Carter split his people into six groups. He probably thought that would make it easier for them to escape, but it made it easier for us to hunt them. We opened the red doors of two of the groups. Brother Alan and Sister Gail are going to take the third in a pincer movement, because that group went into a valley, and Brother Andrew is hunting a fourth near the creek.”
“And the other two?”
“Our people are looking.”
“That is well.” Saint John approved of Andrew, who was a recent convert and a former town guard from Treetops. It was he who had provided Brother Peter with a map to the tree-house city where Carter and his people had lived until a week ago. The knives of the reapers had been bloodied from tip to pommel that night, and every day since.
“I met Brother Simon a few minutes ago,” said Peter. “He asked me to tell you that Mother Rose has called a meeting of the team leaders.”
“Where?”
Brother Peter paused. “They are to meet her at the Shrine of the Fallen in two hours.”
Saint John was a long time in responding. He folded his hands behind his back and seemed to be interested in the dance of a pair of dragonflies.
“I want you to be there,” he said softly. “But don’t be seen. I want to know everything that is said at that meeting.”
“Yes, Honored One.”
“And I want to know if anyone — anyone — enters the shrine itself.”
“Mother Rose would never allow it. It’s her shrine,” said the young reaper. “Even I’ve never been inside.”
“Nor have I,” murmured Saint John.
The two reapers regarded each other for a silent moment.
Brother Peter frowned. “Why call a meeting there, of all places? Why a place she has expressly forbidden anyone to visit? I — don’t understand.”
Saint John’s smile was small and cold. “God speaks to each of us in a different way. Who is to say what secrets he whispers to our beloved Rose?”
His smile was warm, but his tone was cold.
After a long silence, Brother Peter nodded. “There are times I do not entirely… understand what Mother Rose does, Honored One.”
“Oh?” said Saint John.
“Perhaps I am too simple a man, but sometimes I cannot connect her actions with the needs of our holy purpose.”
A faint smile played over Saint John’s lips. “I’m sure God forgives you for such doubts.”
The younger man bowed. As he straightened he said, “There is another matter, Honored One.”
“Oh?”
“I was patrolling the forest beyond the shrine, looking to see if Sister Margaret dared to lead any of the heretics that way…”
Saint John nodded encouragement.
“… and I found five reapers who had red doors opened in them.”
The saint spread his hands. “We knew that Carter would fight. He is stubborn in his heresy, and there are many like him in his group.”
“No, Honored One, I do not believe that Carter or any of his people killed them. Whoever took them did it quietly and with great skill.”
“What level of skill?”
Brother Peter’s face was as bland as ever, but his eyes were alight. “Possibly as good as me. And around the bodies I found animal tracks.”
“A dog?” asked Saint John.
“A very large dog.”
“Ah,” said Saint John, raising his eyebrows. “You think
“Yes, Honored One, I do… although that confuses me. Am I mistaken, or did not Brother Alexi swear that he killed the ranger? Did he not swear before God that he smashed the life out of him with his great hammer?”
“He did say so,” agreed Saint John.
Brother Peter began to add something to that, but he bit it back. However, Saint John nodded as if the rest had been spoken.
Mother Rose had said she witnessed her pet giant kill this particular heretic. This mercenary who served the evil ones — the doctors and scientists; this killer who preyed on the reapers.
They studied each other for a long moment, each of them calculating the implications of that.
“Someday soon,” murmured the saint, “we will have a discussion with Brother Alexi.”
“Most assuredly,” agreed Brother Peter, and his eyes were hard as metal. “But… if Brother Alexi has fallen from grace, what does that say about Mother Rose? They are inseparable. He does not scratch an itch without her say-so.”
Saint John placed his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “We must be vigilant, but we must not leap to judgment. The truth always finds the light, you know this?”
“Yes.”
“Then be patient. God has set many tasks before us. We have to find and end the rest of Carter’s heretics and send them into the darkness. We must find Sister Margaret and make sure that she tells only us how to find Sanctuary… and not her mother. This is of paramount importance.”
“Silencing her voice would be easy enough….”
“Don’t underestimate her,” cautioned Saint John. “Remember how talented she was. Had she not fallen from grace, her skill could have rivaled your own.”
Brother Peter gave an elaborate shrug. “I welcome the opportunity to test that.”
“Do not give her the slightest chance. As far as the ranger, Joe… we need to find him before he can do more harm. Every time he kills one of ours and is not punished for it, a seed of doubt is planted in the hearts of our reapers. This man must be found.”
“Yes, Honored One.”
Saint John nodded. “There are two other tasks at hand. First, I want you to select your most trusted reapers and have them join you when you go to observe Mother Rose’s meeting at the shrine. Have some follow Her Holiness and Brother Alexi and send runners to me to report everything that is said at this meeting.”
“Of course.” Peter paused. “What is the other matter?”
Saint John looked at the line of footprints in the soft earth. He told Brother Peter about Nyx and her knight.
“Surely they are part of Carter’s party,” insisted Peter, but Saint John shook his head.
“I don’t think so. Their eyes have looked upon the darkness, I’m sure of it.” Saint John absently touched the cut on his forearm. “I will follow them and seek to discover the nature of this holy test.” He took a breath. “Go now. The god of darkness calls us to our purpose.”
“And we answer with joy,” replied Brother Peter with his flat voice and unsmiling face.
He bowed low. Saint John kissed his head and blessed him.
The young man got back on his quad, fired up the engine, and roared off into the woods.
Saint John watched him go, nodding to himself with silent approval. Brother Peter was the best of the reapers. The best by far. A genius of the blade and a killer whose every breath was dedicated to giving the gift of darkness. Saint John had no doubts that Peter would find this man — this troublesome man — and do as he had promised. He would open the doors in the man’s flesh and let the darkness in. It would be the greatest act of faith and devotion possible. Saint John almost envied him that pleasure.
