the forms flowing through my arms like shadows flickering on a stage. I kept my eyes closed, my fists open, my breath coming in long, deep cycles. Muscles relaxed into the comfortable ritual of the forms.
'You should be sleeping,' a voice said from the center of the Dominant.
My empty hands stopped inches from his throat, the strike rising up from my heels and through twisting hips, automatically snapping out what would have been a killing blow had my mind not recognized the voice.
'Elder Simeon,' I said, finally opening my eyes and looking at the old man over the stiff splay of my palm. I relaxed and stepped back. The Elder remained standing and still, as though he had never been in danger. As perhaps he hadn't. The Elders spoke the deepest secrets of the Cult of the Warrior. Even infirm, they had their powers. 'Forgive me.'
'It is your forgiveness that must be given, Paladin. I checked your room, but you were gone. I came here to… collect my thoughts.' He stepped away from the stairs, trailing out toward the edge of the platform. 'And perhaps my memories. I did not seek to disturb you.'
I closed my stance and faced away from the Elder, putting some distance between us. Old men didn't climb that many stairs without a purpose. Especially this old man.
'You treat me well, Simeon. Always have.' I squatted down onto my heels, resting my arms on splayed knees. 'So be honest with me. What was Elias's vote?'
'His vote?' he asked. 'On the archive?'
'Yeah.'
'So they've told you about that, at least. What else?'
'What else should I know, Elder?'
He folded his arms into the wide sleeves of his robe and nodded toward the cityscape.
'He was with Barnabas.'
'He wanted to reach out to the Amonites,' I said, mostly to myself, mostly fitting the pieces together in my head. 'To learn more about the device, without telling Alexander.'
'Yes.' He nodded. 'That was his hope.'
'Might not that be why he was killed?'
He became very still. 'These are dangerous suggestions, Eva.' He turned toward me. 'The Cult has enough enemies without digging them out of the monastery.'
'This is what I know, Elder. Someone delivered that artifact to the Strength. Someone kidnapped Barnabas and killed Elias. In every case, these unknown someones had pretty excellent knowledge of the business of the Strength. Who knew where the Fratriarch was going, and why? Who knew we had the artifact, or that a vote was taken to determine its fate? Who knew where those votes lay?'
Simeon did not answer me. Did not need to answer.
'And let me extend that thought. I know Tomas voted against it. Isabel made her will known. She has no tolerance for the artifacts of the Scholar. So, two against. Barnabas voted for investigating the artifact. As did Elias. Two votes to two. Leaving only you, Elder.'
'Aye. I was with Barnabas.'
'And now you fear for your life, as Elias should have feared for his. And now we must ask who held the knife. Who could be trusted, and now cannot?'
'Surely you do not suspect the Elders?'
'I am not threatening the Council of the Fist. I'm not accusing you, or Tomas, or Isabel, of anything. There are others in this monastery, other powers at work in the city. What I am saying, Elder, is that I will pursue this hunt wherever it takes me.'
'You must be very careful, girl. We do not wish to show weakness-'
'Enough, Elder,' I snapped, flushing at my own rashness. He took a step away from me. 'I do not know what you are doing, but I do know that you are doing something. Tomas sent me to watch over Elias so he could talk to the other Elders. He sent you away so he could talk to me in Isabel's presence, and show me the artifact. And now you are here, to speak with me alone. Perhaps to speak against the Elders, perhaps to sway me in my decision regarding the artifact. It is a careful game, but I will not play it with you.'
'Paladin…' he hissed, then paused. Two long breaths we stood there before he gave a sharp nod, then retreated to the spiraling staircase.
When he was well and truly gone, I relaxed from the fighting stance I had unwittingly assumed, then continued with my stances of meditation. I should not have spoken out to the Elder like that. But then again, he should not be trying to play games with the hunter on her trail.
9
y first glimpse of battle came on my tenth birthday. Tomas brought me to the train, and rode with me as far as it would go. We took the smaller elevated mono, in its unerring orbit, out of Ash and to the lakeside terminal. There we boarded a landlocked train, huffing and snuffling and groaning as it gained slow momentum out of the station. Tomas bought me jerrycakes and soda that the vendor mixed right at the cart, and let me sit by the window. When we were close, he helped me get into the custom-fit steam suit, the pistons and boiler huffing like the train. I didn't have the noetics yet, and I was too young to wear a man's armor.
There were ladies on the train with us, accompanied by their gentlemen. They wore silk dresses and carried picnic baskets. The Rethari Incursion was still a curiosity, like a page of history that had torn free and was rampaging among the peasants. Only we didn't really have peasants anymore. But the ladies boarded the train with their picnics, and their men carried folding chairs, and they sat in their leatherupholstered compartments and talked. Mostly they talked about me, in ways they thought I couldn't hear.
I clambered out of the train and followed Tomas down to the field, and to Barnabas. People were already saying that he'd be the next Fratriarch. He would make a good one, I thought, though he was getting a little old. Something I didn't understand-why we waited until a man was old to make him Fratriarch. Best grab them while they're young and full of fire. Old men settled into patterns. They smelled. Fratriarch Hannas smelled, at least, and his bony hands were like the gnarled roots of trees. I hoped that making Barnabas Fratriarch wouldn't do that to him. I couldn't imagine him that way.
The Rethari were gathered together, their scaly legions lined up in cohorts, their cohorts rallying to standards and champions. Just like any other army. I looked out across them and found the totem-men. Their gods. I laughed at such foolery, but Tomas hushed me. I picked out Barnabas. At the lead, of course. Without his helmet, of course. His great white mane of hair snapped in the wind, like a totem of winter snow trapped in a field of summer. His hair had always been white, long as I'd known him.
The men followed him. I understood that. I would follow him, if Tomas let me. If I could get out of this ridiculous suit and wield the blade, if I knew the rites of armor and bullet. Someday.
The Cult of Morgan carried the charge. As was our right. But we did not carry the day. It was glorious, down among the flashing swords and dancing warriors. It wasn't until later, when I stepped that dance myself, that I would learn of the grim filth of war. The death, the stink of men and women voiding themselves as blades burst guts, as bullets shattered teeth and opened skulls like ripe fruit. From here it was beautiful. Down there it was glorious too, but not in a way the ladies in their silk would understand.
We carried the charge, but did not win the battle. The Rethari were driven back, then folded around the tight knot of the Cult of Morgan like a fist. Our legions fought, but the enemy were many. Their totem-men scythed into us. Living gods, or unliving. They cut into us. I watched the scions of Morgan fall back, drawing tighter and tighter to Barnabas's standard, to his wild crown of white hair and the swirling arc of his hammers. I stepped forward, but Tomas put a hand on my shoulder.
'Sometimes there is loss, Eva,' he whispered. 'Perhaps that is today's lesson.'
But it was not. There was thunder, and the common levy advanced. Set shoulders lofted bullistic rifles like a bristling forest of metal and wood, which then erupted in fire and smoke. It was the greatest sound I had ever heard. The valkynkein swept forward on iron treads, tearing into the soft flank of the Rethari force. Thunder and lightning and the sharp stink of cordite as the conscripted warriors of the city of Ash advanced. Warriors. Farmers,
