Lamentation

the mystic teachings of T’Erys Whym, the younger brother of P’Andro Whym who for a time succeeded his {sucitebrother and led the leftovers of the world until the Francine Movement, of all things, brought them back to reason as the principal tenet.

Yes, she would’ve wanted to visit this place. But would she have chosen to stay here?

Probably not, she realized. Instead, if she had her way, she’d spend some time in the Great Library, possibly tour the edges of the Churning Waste, and then move south and sail the channel islands.

Instead, she thought, I am to be here in the shadow of a new library.

Of course, all of that hinged on the Writ of Shunning and its resolution… and on her father’s wishes. She was certain he’d shift his strategy and she’d been certain that a bird would come. But instead, a note from Rudolfo had arrived that morning.

Pay no mind to this emerging Pope’s Writ, it read. I ride to deal with him. Stay with Isaak. Only the word “with” had been tilted just ever so slightly to give it the subtext of “near,” lending it the weight of great importance.

She’d smiled. Another code was buried in it, too. It was simple and unexpected, woven into the note with the jots and tittles of the Bank Cipher script. I’ll dance with the sunrise yet again, the equation said.

Jin Li Tam heard limping footfalls in the hall and went to the door.

“Lady Tam?” she heard a metallic voice call.

She poked her head out. “In here, Isaak.”

The metal man stopped and turned. He still the wore robes-dark and long. “I’ve come to wish you well,” he said.

The words hit her. “What do you mean?”

He blinked. “I’m leaving for the Papal Summer Palace.”

Stay with Isaak. Near him, she thought, because of his great importance. “I don’t think Lord Rudolfo would permit this.”

Steam left the exhaust grate. “I know. I received his message this morning as well. But regardless of Lord Rudolfo’s instructions, I am compelled to obey my Pope. I am the property of the Androfrancines-it is written into my behavior scrolls.”

She watched his eyes, looking for an awareness she knew she couldn’t see. But she knew from the tears that leaked out from them that he understood at least part of the equation {f t co. If this mechanical wonder had indeed brought down the City of Windwir with his very words, what risk could he be to the last of the Androfrancines?

But the other side of the equation would not bother him at all, she knew. He’d welcome it, even ask for it, in the hopes that it would help him shed the weight of guilt she saw him bear with every step. She doubted even the hope of rebuilding the library could be strong enough to lift something so heavy from him.

Stay with Isaak, Rudolfo had written.

But it wasn’t Rudolfo’s words that moved her. No. It was the other side of that equation that sent Jin Li Tam down the stairs to pack what little she had in preparation for her journey with the metal man who had been Sethbert’s sword at the throat of a city.

She didn’t worry that Isaak could ever be used in such a way again. She was certain he would not permit it. But then there was the other side.

What risk would the last of the Androfrancines be to him?

Petronus

Petronus led the small group of men over the last rise, and those who hadn’t already seen it fell back, gasping, at what they saw there.

They pushed wheelbarrows full of tools, and those with mules or horses pulled small carts along behind them. Petronus looked them over and shook his head.

Damn Pope Resolute and his Exercise of Holiness. It had cost him two thirds of the crowd. No one wanted to tangle on the wrong side of Sethbert’s army. They were all smart enough to know that the Exercise was to keep people from digging, and gravediggers were diggers nonetheless.

He looked down at the boy. He hadn’t spoken again for two days now, but Petronus was fairly certain that he could if he wanted to. “But you don’t have to,” he’d told Neb when he realized that he hadn’t spoken since, “if you don’t want to.”

As they crested the rise, Petronus saw birds fly out of the forest, moving north of them, their wings beating furiously. He read their colors and smiled. A horse pulled out from a copse of trees not far from the edge of the blasted area. It rode toward them, and Petronus saw ripples of wind in the grass to the left and right of the rider.

He waited until the young lieutenant pulled up and hailed him. “Windwir is closed,” he said.

The wind rippled out as the magicked scouts took up positions around them.

Petronus pointed. “Windwir is a {;Wiv› field of bones. We aim to bury them.”

The faintest hint of surprise registered on the young man’s face. “I’m afraid I can’t let you pass.”

Petronus stepped closer. “What is your name, Lieutenant?”

“Brint,” the young man said. He studied Petronus and the motley band of travelers.

“Have you not faced a loved one’s passing?”

Petronus watched the young man’s face. He saw the stab of loss rise to the surface and then quickly vanish as the officer forced his emotions aside. It was just slight enough that the untrained eye might miss it, and Petronus suddenly realized he wasn’t dealing with the spoiled son of an Entrolusian noble.

Petronus’s hands moved close to his body so that others could not see. Whose are you? he signed, first in the intelligence subverbal of the Forest Houses and then in the hand dialect of House Li Tam.

The lieutenant blinked but kept his own hands still. “I have seen several loved ones pass,” he said in a quiet voice.

Petronus leaned forward, his voice also low. “Did you bury them or let them lie where they fell?”

The first look was anger, but it was followed by a look of deep weariness. The lieutenant said nothing for a full minute, then stared down at Petronus. He whistled, and the wind blew back from around them as the Delta Scouts retreated. When they were out of earshot, he leaned down from his saddle and spoke in a quiet voice.

“Be watchful. I can let you pass but I cannot keep you safe.”

“The light will keep us safe,” Petronus said, quoting the Whymer Bible’s opening admonition.

The young lieutenant shook his head. “There is no light now.” He looked around again, scanning for any sign that his men were nearby. “And the one now asked to guard it is the same who snuffed it out. You will not be safe here.”

Then, he turned his horse and rode off in the direction of the wind.

By nightfall, Petronus and his ragged band of gravediggers had set up their camp by the river, just outside what had once been the river dock gate and clearly in compliance with the Exercise of Holiness. That area had been granted special Dispensation to keep the supply chain moving through the duration of the Exercise in years past.

The one good thing about having been Pope was understanding the rules one had to play by.

Rudolfo

Rudolfo and his escort rode northwest to the Papal Summer Palace high up and secluded in the Dragon’s Spine. Riding high in his saddle, he could see the purple line of those jagged peaks on the horizon. Once they reached the foothills, they’d turn west and follow them until they found the Waybringer’s Path and followed it up to the palace and the village that had sprung up around it to care for the Androfrancine foothold when it was not in use.

He’d left two mornings ago, slipping out of the camp before the sun rose, dressed in subdued colors and trading his turban for a black hood. His half-squad of scouts rode, too. He would not have it otherwise, and he would not approach this so-called Pope with magicked scouts regardless of the war.

“What will you do?” Gregoric had asked him as he climbed into the saddle.

Rudolfo had settled himself in, whipping his dark cloak over his shoulder. “I will tell the truth,” he said,