After a moment of thought, she grabbed her suitcase from an alcove and pulled out the normal 9mm inside.
“You think the Elder won’t be angry you came armed?” Jofi asked. “When he asked you not to do that?”
“I think this is more about not trusting me with gun-spirit-enhanced superguns,” Lyssa replied. That careful eliding of the problem bordered on being true. “And this way, anyone following me will think I still have you.”
“And if this is a trap?” Jofi asked. “You’ve expressed distrust of Elders before. Is there anything inherent in Tribunal members that makes them beyond reproach?”
“The three fossils do a good job of watching each other,” Lyssa replied. “And I think it’d make more sense to kill me when I first got here rather than leave a trail of evidence and let Tristan get too cozy here.” She laughed. “Besides, it’s hard to think it’d be one guy, so that means it’d be the Tribunal or least two out of three of them.”
“That’s impossible?”
Lyssa shook her head. “Not impossible, but if that’s the case, it already goes so high I’m screwed. Another Eclipse would kill me before I left Last Remnant.”
“It might take effort, but breaking into a shard vault isn’t impossible,” Jofi said.
“I’m also banking on Tristan keeping an eye on my room while I’m gone.”
“You’re perhaps trusting Mr. St. James too much,” Jofi replied. “He advised you not to do so.”
“There’s no way I’m going to be able to solve this without taking some risks.” Lyssa shrugged. “Let’s get you tucked away. I’ll also spend some time setting up a trap spell. If someone tries to get into that vault, everyone nearby will know.”
Another lift trip, along with a journey down the endless hallways of the main portion of the Heart of Remnant. At least there were fewer sealed passages than in the Vault of Dreams.
Two men armed with shard spears escorted Lyssa for the entire trip, which ended with reaching not the Tribunal Chamber but a small, elegantly appointed office filled with books on shelves and scrolls in racks. Nektarios sat on an uncomfortable-looking bench seat, hunched over a small table covered with scrolls packed with dense Lemurian writing. He squinted at the writing and didn’t bother to look up.
The ancient, wizened man wore a loose gray robe that was plain and unadorned compared to many regalia Lyssa had seen. He lacked a mask, but he did have a necklace of crystals and blackened bones hanging around his neck. She hoped they were from animals but didn’t dare ask.
Still looking down, Nektarios snapped his fingers. “Leave me with Corti,” he said in Lemurian.
The guards departed without another word. They closed the door behind them.
Lyssa bowed her head. “I, Lyssa Corti, bearer of—"
“We’ll dispense with the useless chatter, Corti,” Nektarios interrupted. “I know who you are. I called you here. You asked to come to Last Remnant, and now you’re here, bringing darkness and disruption in your wake.” He narrowed his eyes and gestured at her jacket. “Show me.”
Lyssa slowly drew her pistol and held it out. “It’s not one of his. It’s just a normal gun.”
“What nerve you have to ignore my orders.” He glared at her. “I said to leave your pistols.”
Lyssa met his angry gaze with her own. “And we both know the reason you said that. I have people trying to kill me. Asking me to come unarmed goes against customs here, and—”
“Silence, girl,” snapped Nektarios. “You dare lecture me on what is allowed on Last Remnant? When you’ve brought chaos with you? When you’ve brought the Snow Ghost here?”
“You’re not the one people are trying to kill,” Lyssa objected. “I’m only being targeted because I did my duty. It’s not my—”
“Speak when I ask you to. Shut your mouth otherwise. I’m tired of your prattle.”
Lyssa gritted her teeth. It wasn’t like he could see under the mask. She might have to dial it down in front of a member of the Tribunal, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.
Nektarios had held a reputation for being an asshole longer than she’d been alive. She waited for him to continue.
“That spirit is the source of all this trouble,” Nektarios snarled. He turned toward her, his rheumy gaze fixing on her. “Good men are dead because of it. The Society is being weakened at an inopportune time.”
She had to give the man credit. He was over a hundred and eighty years old. Whatever she thought about him, it was impressive to last that long.
Lyssa waited for his rant to continue. Every part of her wanted to make jokes about mummies and fossils, but antagonizing one of the leaders of her people who might order her to sacrifice her life to contain Jofi wasn’t smart.
“Speak,” barked Nektarios.
“Jofi has been useful in my job as a Torch,” Lyssa replied. “As an example, without him, I don’t think I would have been able to take down the monsters in southern Arizona. There would have been a high number of hurt and killed Shadows without a powerful and immediate way to take down the most dangerous of the creatures. If we’d had to rely on the Shadow military to kill it, we would have looked weak, or worse, we would have looked like we can’t control our rogues.”
“Three of our kind have paid with their lives because someone wants that thing.” Nektarios wheezed. “I’d be willing to sacrifice a small Shadow town if that’s the trade-off.”
She stared at him, unsure of what to say. Not every Elder valued Shadow lives, and she’d heard Nektarios was one of the worst that way, but having it shoved in her face was hard to accept.
Lyssa’s hands curled into fists. “I’m not willing to make that trade-off, and the problem isn’t that—”
“Did I tell you to speak?”
“I am speaking!” Lyssa shouted. “These guys are trying to kill me, not you, and getting rid of
