of the Betrayer to suffer what Morgan had suffered. Wiped clean from the earth. That would be enough for me.
And this guy. What did he want? Amon was dead. Even if the Scholar were cleared of the murder of his brother, people would never trust him. Never trust what they'd been taught for two hundred years to despise. And how would the Cult of Amon react, to learn that their god had been falsely accused? That they had lived in slavery or on the run for two hundred years to preserve a lie, all the while ruled over by the man who had put both of our gods to death. What measure of forgiveness would they be willing to pour out, and what measure of wrath?
I realized then the horror of what Cassandra and I were proposing. To expose the last god of man as a murderer. What would that do to the city, to the Fraterdom? If the cycle were about to turn, and Alexander was the only thing holding our divinity together, would it be worth our revenge to throw down the godking and open the door for the ascension of the Rethari? But what choice did we have? Bend the knee to a murderer, or lose our empire. These were the things we must face.
That's when the door opened. I was lost in staring at the dead guy and trying to juggle the gods of man, and didn't hear the bolts throw. When the door began to slide open, I only had time to step behind it. Good thing is, the Scholars were still talking, and that distracted them enough to get inside and close the door before they saw the body. Soon as the door was closed, I slid in front of it, right by their fancy panic button.
Two men, one old and stooped with age, the other young and thin. They wore gray robes, similar to the two we had killed upstairs. They wore their soul-chains openly, looped around their chest and neck, linked to their wrists and waist. A lot more chain than what the Librarians Desolate wore, I noted, though it seemed a much lighter weight. Almost delicate. Their heads were close together, and they were talking.
'The duration of the interruption doesn't matter,' the old one was saying. 'Any interruption is terrible. Alexander plays with these things like they're dice, but if we build up too much noet-'
'Yes, yes. Too much power, not enough conduit. I know, Malcolm, but-'
And that's when they saw the body. Malcolm just stood, staring at the twisted form, its back sticky with blood, the stink of meat and voided gut finally cutting through the antiseptic purity of the chamber. The other one, the young one whose name I had yet to hear, immediately turned for the button. Turned right into my bully, in his eye.
'What have you done?' he whispered. Malcolm turned and saw me. They both started backing up to the dome. 'They'll kill us all.'
'That's what he said. I'd like to hear a little more than that, if you don't mind.'
'It's too late. You don't understand what you've done. As soon as the Holder learns that the archive has been found… he'll just kill us. He'll start over with a new batch from the Library.'
'They can't afford that, Daniel,' Malcolm muttered. 'They can't get a new crew in here and hope to maintain the noet. The Ruin will break open, and then where will we be?'
'You're right, old man,' Daniel said. 'They'll just kill those of us responsible. Which is you, and me.' He glanced at the body. 'And Jeremiah, I suppose. But that won't really matter.'
'You're assuming I'm not going to kill you first,' I said. 'Can we get back to paying attention to the girl with the bully?'
'You must be the Paladin,' Daniel said. 'Am I right? The last scion of Morgan?'
'I'm your girl,' I answered.
'What happened to your Cult? Why did you turn against Alexander?'
'You're joking, right? We've been set up. The Betrayer has been hunting us down, disguised as one of the Healer's men. Guy named Nathaniel has a whole cadre of masked assassins skulking around. I think. .' I went over in my mind what I thought, and found I didn't really know yet. 'I think he's part of a sect of the Healer, which has been secretly worshipping the Betrayer all this time.'
'Nathaniel Cascade? High Elector of the Cult of Alexander?' Malcolm's face wrinkled in a deep smile. 'You're accusing him of worshipping the Betrayer. I assure you, my girl, that he is not of Amon.'
'I didn't say that. But what makes you so sure?'
They both wrinkled their foreheads. I decided not to explain myself.
'Not of Amon. Well, no, he's obviously not. Nathaniel Cascade is the Chief Elector of this facility, Paladin. He's the Holder of our chains.' Daniel raised his arms and displayed the links around his wrists. 'When we say that they'll kill us all, we mean that he will kill us all.'
'And smile through the whole butchery,' Malcolm said.
'What is this place?' I asked.
'The hidden house of Alexander. He has gathered here all the stories of the forgotten gods, the mythos of the Feyr, even artifacts from the age of the Titans.' Daniel raised his hands and presented his palms to me. 'And the untold stories of the new gods, as well.'
'What are you doing?' Malcolm asked. He had a bony hand around Daniel's elbow.
'New gods?' I asked.
'Yes. Do you think only the Brothers have ascended? That there is but one god by accident? Alexander has culled the harvest, my dear Paladin, and this is where he hides the chaff and stores the wheat.'
'Stores the wheat,' I said, mostly to myself, mostly to be heard. 'Like that damned Feyr said. The Ruin could be used to swallow noetic divinity. Alexander must be doing that!'
'Has been doing it for two hundred years, little girl,' the Amonite said.
'Why in hell did you tell her that?' Malcolm shrieked. 'Do you want to implicate us in the murder of a thousand gods, boy? We'll be lucky if they only kill us, rather than-' He glanced back at me. 'Rather than other things.'
'You're saying that Alexander has been… has been hunting gods?'
'Young gods. New gods. Gods before they are truly divine. We can sense them with the Ruin, sense them as they draw power off. Only the ordained scions of the three Cults are allowed to survive, since their development can be monitored and controlled.' He turned to Malcolm and smiled. 'It's okay, old man. I told her because he's already forgiven us. I told her because he already knows.'
'What?' I barked.
'He monitors the chains,' Daniel said, and raised his arms again. 'Not always, and not all the time. But I sense his eyes upon me. His eyes upon you.'
I skipped forward, drawing the sword as I moved and bringing it down in a long, sweeping arc. The blade parted Daniel's skull and exited at his hip. The boy slid apart. Malcolm was howling.
'You can't leave me to face him!' he yelled. 'You can't give Daniel a quick peace and leave me to answer to that man!' He threw himself to his knees, his hands at my waist. 'Please, for the love of mercy!'
'Mercy is in short supply,' I said. I drove the sword down his chest and twisted. The blade became entangled in his chains, and when I twisted the links popped like glass. The whole length of it slithered to the floor. Malcolm fell back on his butt, his eyes wide with shock. He looked like he was having trouble breathing. I saw that where the metal had slid across his body as it came free, there were angry welts. I bent to him, and helped him to his feet.
'Last… push. He gave one last push, as the chain came loose.' He held his hand to his chest and breathed in shuddering gasps. 'How did you do that?'
'I'm not sure. The Fratriarch did it for Cassandra. I thought it was worth a try.'
'You don't understand. Those links went into my soul. You severed them cleanly, like they were mere steel.'
'Steel doesn't cut that easily, but yes. You are free.'
He stood at my side, wavering on his feet. His hand was on my shoulder.
'Good to… good to breathe once more, my own breath. Even if it is at the end, even if we don't have much time. Even if he's already on his way here.'
'You have to help me, then. There's little enough time without-'
The door began to unlatch. I threw myself against it. Whoever was on the other side began hammering at the metal.
'Help me, old man! Don't stand by and watch it end this way!'
'It's already ended, woman. You cannot stand against Nathaniel. I don't care what tricks they taught you in that monastery. Blades are blades. He will cut you down.'
'It's no damn wonder they've been able to keep you people-' I grunted as a great deal of force was applied to the door. I staggered back, then threw myself against it again. Planting my sword, I invoked the Stones of Averon
