priest abasing himself in this way. He could remember a man with dignity and compassion, a man whose faith bound him to the community he served, but all that had gone. Now Bestion blindly looked to Kerberos for answers.
Bestion finally rose and brushed off his robes. Silus raised his hand when the priest looked his way, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he headed in the direction of Ignacio and the Swords, there to confer with them in a huddle. Silus was horrified when Ignacio shook hands with Bestion, welcoming him in amongst the fanatics.
This had not gone unnoticed by Kelos.
“That,” said the mage, sitting down next to Silus, “is not good.”
“Looks like they’re recruiting,” Silus said.
“Think we should stop him?”
“I don’t think we can.”
“What are we going to do, Silus? We can’t just stay here. We certainly can’t hang around with the Swords for much longer. Do you think that if we asked nicely they’d just let us go? Though, now I come to think of it, it’s not like there’s even anywhere to go on this godforsaken world.”
Dunsany wandered over. His arms were stained red to the elbows, and Silus couldn’t remember ever having seen him look so tired.
“You know what?” he said. “I’m beginning to regret that we ever stole the Llothriall in the first place.”
“No regrets, Dunsany,” Katya said. “If we had stayed in Nurn when the Chadassa attacked, our son would never have been born. Trust me, I don’t blame you for what has happened.”
“As ever, Katya,” Dunsany said, “were I differently inclined, I’d gladly steal you from this brute.”
“Hey!” Silus protested. “May I remind you that this brute has saved you on several occasions, thank you very much.”
“By the way,” Kelos said, “has anyone seen Illiun?”
“I think he retreated into the ship,” Silus said. “No doubt he’s on board somewhere, having a nervous breakdown. I’ll give him another hour and then I’ll go and have a word, try to make him see some sense about the ‘entity.’”
“And how do you feel about it?” Katya asked.
“I don’t know,” Silus said, looking up at Kerberos.
He thought that he would be pleased, that it would give him hope to see his god again. Yet he had reached out to Kerberos and felt nothing. “I don’t think I understand Kerberos anymore.”
There was the clash of metal on metal and Silus looked up to see a commotion amongst the Swords. The group parted as a blade flashed, revealing two figures engaged in combat. One was Ignacio, the sword in his hand dancing with consummate skill; the other was one of the silver-eyed men, handling his weapon as though he wasn’t entirely sure as to its use. Someone had armed the artificial man, Silus was sure of it. The sentinel wouldn’t have done this of his own volition; otherwise, surely, he would have attempted to block the blow that sheared away much of his left arm.
There was a cheer as the sentinel finally managed to land a blow, though it was more through random flailing than intent. A group of settlers had gathered to egg the sentinel on. The loudest of them was Shalim, who stood at the head of the rabble, his fists bunched at his sides, his face scarlet with anger. No matter how loud he shouted, however, the silver-eyed man was not built for this manner of combat. When the sentinel tripped over his own feet, Ignacio dispatched him by removing his head from his shoulders.
As viscous blue blood pumped over Ignacio’s boots, Shalim and his comrades fell silent.
“Which one of you is responsible for this?” Ignacio said. There was no reply. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me. I said, which one of you is responsible for this? Which one of you blasphemers would stand against the Swords?”
There was still no response.
“Brother Auden, kill the gentleman with the blond hair. Perhaps that will encourage someone to speak.”
“Ignacio, no!” Silus was on his feet and racing towards them. “Stop this, now!”
“Silus, perhaps you have forgotten that as a fugitive from the Final Faith you have no say in this matter. Brother Auden, you may continue.”
“And I said no!” Silus unsheathed his sword and forced the acolyte’s blade to the ground. Brother Auden looked back at Ignacio, not quite sure how he should respond.
“Ignacio, where exactly is this getting us?” Silus said. “We’re all stranded on this world. There’s nowhere for any of us to go, and, thanks to the Sword’s actions on the ship, Illiun and his people have lost everything. How do you hope to punish them any more than they already have been? Just let them be.”
“The Lord of All has spoken, Silus. These godless people must be punished.”
“Really, Ignacio? I mean, reall y? When you first joined the crew of the Llothriall you were one of the most godless men I’d ever met. You’d often rail against the Final Faith and how they used to make you and your brother’s lives as smugglers so difficult. Yet here you now stand, wearing the symbol of the crossed circle. What did they do to you, Ignacio, to make you change your heart so radically?”
“I saw the light. The Lord of All spoke to me.”
“No, I’m almost certain that He didn’t. Trust me, you don’t know the first thing about the deity.”
“It is true that Silus has a great affinity with the Allfather,” Bestion said, stepping into the quarrel. “I have witnessed it myself.”
“Ignacio, you were there when I channelled the power of Kerberos to destroy the Chadassa,” Silus said. “I know the Lord of All, and I know that He wouldn’t want you punish Illiun and his people in His name.”
“But they reject God,” Ignacio said.
“That is their choice. It doesn’t mean they are a threat to the Final Faith. Are you sure that Makennon would be so concerned about this lifeless place when she has more than enough on Twilight to worry about? Besides, we have bigger concerns ourselves. Like how to get home.”
“The Lord of All will guide us home.”
“And He told you that, did he?”
Ignacio’s silence was answer enough.
“Then why don’t you talk to Him? ’ It was the black-haired woman Silus had seen conversing with Ignacio earlier. “Perhaps you can succeed where we, His most devout soldiers, have failed?”
Though the woman clearly meant this as an attack on Silus, he realised that she did have a point.
“Bestion, you once helped me leave my body and commune with Kerberos,” he said. “Do you think you can do that again?”
The priest twisted his robes in his hands as he looked at the ground. “Without the sacred spices and incense it will be difficult. To leave one’s body takes a great deal of preparation.”
“Incense, did you say?” Kelos said, joining them. “Now that I believe I actually have. Spell components I can do, just don’t ask me to perform any sorcery.”
“Bestion, can you help me talk to our god?” Silus asked again.
“It may take many hours.”
“We’re not going anywhere.”
“Ignacio,” said the dark-haired woman. “Is this not blasphemy, presuming to let this unbeliever speak for us?”
“Oh, trust me,” Silus said. “I believe. Ignacio knows.”
“He’s right, Susannah,” Ignacio said. “At least let him try. It can do no harm.”
“Thank you. And when we get back home, I will be more than happy for you to take me to Makennon herself. I’ve a few things that I’d like to talk to her about.”
The quietest place that Bestion could find to conduct the ceremony was a small room deep within the bowels of Illiun’s broken ship, reached via a rickety iron spiral staircase that swayed and creaked as they descended. At the bottom, Bestion opened a door that lead into a bare room constructed entirely from sheets of black metal. There was a grille in the ceiling that let in a faint breeze, bringing with it the odour of raw sewage.
As the priest prepared for the ritual, Silus sat on the floor. He had never felt so far from his god. Despite this, he tried settle his mind as Bestion lit the cones of incense that Kelos had provided for the ceremony.
Bestion began to chant. The sound echoed from the walls, creating a resonance that Silus felt deep in his
