No one in the Final Faith knew what the planetary body now hanging before the face of Kerberos signified. Nowhere within the holy texts was there mention of the coming of the moon. But the biggest challenge the Faith was now facing was not this sinister new conjunction, but the increasingly panicked questions of the laity.
The people couldn't fail to notice the dark spec on the face of Kerberos and many were taking it upon themselves to proclaim it to be a sign of the end times. It didn't help that some of the clergy, in the more rural parishes, were going along with this assessment, preaching services full of the threat of damnation.
It was decided that, in order to staunch the panic before it spread to every community and began to destabilise the Faith's hold on their flock, there would have to be a proclamation from Katherine Makennon herself.
When the next Tenthday rolled around, therefore, Makennon stood on a high balcony at the cathedral at Scholten and — looking down on the mass of people gathered in the great square below — made her pronouncement.
These were not the end times, she proclaimed, starting with at least a small note of comfort. This was, however, a time to be afraid, for the dark manifestation on the face of Kerberos was the eye of the Lord of All. He was gazing down on Twilight and taking stock of his people, for their morals had become lax and their behaviour questionable. Any man, woman or child the Lord of All found lacking would be judged with the full force of his fury. So, the people should look up at Kerberos and take it into their hearts to change their ways.
Much to Katherine Makennon's relief the proclamation seemed to work. Sometimes, she considered, the best panacea for fear was fear itself, because through wielding it one could control the people.
Over the next few days, reports coming in from every major city in the Empire showed a fall in crime across the entire region. There was also a fall in the number of heresies being committed. There were even stories of heretics willingly giving themselves up to the cleansing fires of the naphtha gibbets, claiming that now they could see the face of the Lord of All, they had come to realise the true horror of their sins.
All in all, Makennon considered, the arrival of this new planetary body had turned out to be no bad thing. Church attendance was up, collection plates brimmed with coin and the masses submitted to even the harshest decree.
This renaissance of faith, however, was not to last.
Days after the dark moon had moved into conjunction with Kerberos, the attacks on the coast began.
From every major port in Vosburg, reports flooded in of creatures walking out of the sea and launching vicious assaults on the populous. The military were stretched almost to breaking point defending the maritime provinces, and the channelling of resources away from the in-land cities meant that crime rose steeply in these areas. The Final Faith were forced to bolster the Empire's troops with detachments of the Order of The Swords of Dawn and, as a result, some heresies were now going unpunished, as all available Faith troops were put to use against the Chadassa menace.
The fighting was intense and casualties on both sides were high. For a while it seemed that some of the major ports would fall. But Freiport suddenly joined the conflict — briefly allying with a nation that they had openly spurned for years — and, with a last desperate push, the creatures were driven back into the sea.
Some of the smaller coastal settlements, however, had not had the might of the Empire to back them up and entire generations had been slaughtered, villages reduced to rubble before the sea demons — their hunger apparently sated — had withdrawn.
But not all of the creatures had escaped. A special cadre of the Order of The Swords of Dawn — under the supervision of Querilous Fitch — had managed to capture a handful of prisoners. And now that the Final Faith had the Chadassa back in residence at the dungeons in Scholten, they would use all means at their disposal to discover the true nature of their plans.
Silus sat and watched Katya and Zac sleep.
The bedchamber to which Win had taken them was opulent but dusty, though Katya hadn't complained and she was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. Beside his mother, Zac had burbled and cooed for a while before joining her in slumber. Silus would have joined them himself but, even though he was more exhausted than he had ever been, he couldn't sleep. Instead, he sat in a chair by the window and watched his wife and child, the soft light of a torch burning outside playing across their faces.
With a pang of regret, Silus wondered what he had brought upon his family.
His son had been born in exile and his wife was no longer sure just who her husband was, or what he would become. And then there were the Chadassa, determined to tear Silus from the people he loved and use him as a pawn in their unfathomable plans.
Katya stirred in her sleep, a hand coming up to weakly paw before her face, as though trying to ward off whatever phantom was haunting her dream.
He could just give himself up to the Chadassa, Silus considered. Maybe if he surrendered himself to the fate they so clearly thought was his destiny, then they'd leave Katya and Zac alone. Kelos had shown him how he could communicate with the denizens of the sea. All he had to do was reach out with his mind and find their song.
Silus closed his eyes and concentrated on the sound of his breath, on each inhalation and exhalation.
He left behind the three people in the bedchamber, he left behind the city riding on the back of its vast wave and then he was out over the water, listening to the songs of the creatures who moved below.
Silus searched for the call of the Chadassa but as he began to detect a whistling roar amongst all the other songs — sounding like the howl of wind through an abyss — another more urgent cry reached his ears.
This cry was filled with a dreadful and urgent need. At its core was a fear of loneliness that Silus couldn't ignore. He followed it back over the water to find himself back in his body, staring at Zac as he wailed and wailed.
Silus picked up his son and the child's cries stopped. Zac's body against his own was warm and he could feel the rapid beat of his son's heart as he pressed him to his chest. It soon slowed as Zac settled against him and Silus swayed him from side to side.
'Shhhhhh. Shhhhhh. It's okay. It's all okay now.'
And as Zac's small fists bunched in the folds of Silus's shirt and those large, tearful eyes looked up into his own, he made a decision that when it came to it, when the Chadassa came for him, he would stand and fight with everything he had.
The next day, the crew accompanied Win as he led them to the centre of Morat.
They had risen early and, after a hearty breakfast, followed the Archduke as he descended the narrow stone steps leading from the palace. When they reached the bottom Silus looked up and he could just make out the sky far above, as though he stood at the bottom of a deep well. The dark speck that they had noticed on arriving at Morat still marred the face of Kerberos.
'A sign that does not bode well, I fear.' Win said, following Silus's gaze.
A domed building stood at the centre of Morat and across its surface, picked out in delicate curlicues and flourishes of stone, was the same script that decorated Emuel's body, and it burned with a vivid illumination.
'This is the seat of Morat. The engine house of our city. Gentlemen — and lady — welcome to the house of the Stone Seers. The text covering the building is the holy scripture, taken from the Book of the Allfather.'
'The songs,' Emuel said. 'My Lord, the songs!'
'Win, this holy text of yours? Do you know who wrote it?' Kelos said.
'It was a gift from the Allfather. He sent it out with his people.'
As they walked over the threshold, the song suddenly rose around them and Silus wondered whether this was what Emuel heard every time he communed with the stone on the ship. Silus had never heard anything so beautiful. He turned to Katya, to see tears rolling down her face. In her arms, Zac squealed with delight and clapped his hands.
Inside, dozens of robed people hurried through a wide hall, looks of deep concentration on their faces. As they passed Silus noticed that they sang softly to themselves. On their robes was the same script that covered the exterior of the building.
'The Stone Seers,' Win said. 'These are the men and woman who maintain the ancient song and make sure that its rhythms never fail.'
They moved across the smooth, highly polished floor to a set of double doors framed by a vast arch. The doors stood four times as tall as any of the crew and looked as though they had been carved from bone. Into the yellowing material had been worked the story of Morat.
