False Covenant

conduit? There are so many details to…”

Widdershins let the conversation drift away from her. She didn't need to hear the details and the discussions, the philosophy and the debate. It wouldn't mean anything to her anyway. Gently disentangling her hand from Robin's, she rose and wandered to the far side of the room, to stand stiffly before the shrine that she'd left standing in honor of the late Genevieve Marguilles.

She wasn't alone long, as she knew she wouldn't be. She heard the squeak-snap of a floorboard behind her, saw his shadow darken the white cross of Banin atop the stone.

“You're Adrienne Satti,” he said gruffly. It very clearly was not a question.

“That was the first night I ever saw you, Julien,” she whispered, hugging herself against a sudden chill.

“Saw…?”

“I was hiding in the rafters when the Guard showed up. Too afraid to come down, too afraid you wouldn't believe a word I had to say.”

“I don't know if we would have,” he admitted. “But…Gods, Shins, you should have said something! Over two and a half years…Certainly nobody's going to believe anything you have to say about it now!”

“Nobody?” She turned, gazing up into his face. He was close, closer than she would have thought….“Not even you?”

“Widdershins…Adrienne…”

“Because, after all this, if you honestly think I could possibly have killed all those people, all my friends you-you don't-”

“Widdershins? Don't be stupid.”

Her jaw dropped.

“Of course I know you didn't do it, you little idiot.” His grin widened beneath his mustache. “I'm violating every oath I ever took by keeping this secret-except for the one about upholding the gods' justice. I know the law won't give you a fair chance, so the law can go hang.”

“Wow.” She squeezed his hand in hers. (And oh my gods, when did I even take his hand?!) “I bet that was really, really hard for you to say, you righteous Guardsman, you.”

“Not as much as you'd expect,” he said, sounding vaguely bemused.

“So…What now, Julien?”

She knew it was coming, saw it in his face the instant she asked. Something akin to terror ran its fingertips down her spine as he leaned in, and she was frozen, trying to decide which way to run, when his lips touched hers.

At which point all thought of running-at which point all thought-was utterly lost, trampled into the dust beneath the sudden violent pounding of her heartbeat. She knew she made some sort of sound, though whether it was a cry or a gasp or a moan or some bizarre crossbreed of all three she couldn't possibly tell. And then there was nothing but his taste on her tongue, the fabric of his tabard and the muscles of his back beneath her grasping hands.

Where things might have gone from there, Widdershins had no notion-and, she realized with another surge of strangely delicious fear, didn't care-had Julien himself not pulled away after about two or three decades. “We're, uh, not exactly alone,” he whispered with a peculiar hitch in his voice.

“What?” she asked dreamily, her expression utterly unfocused. And then, with a quick blink, “Oh! Um…I, um…”

As Widdershins appeared to be too busy turning red to actually form a cogent sentence, Julien simply smiled, gave her hand a final squeeze, and moved to rejoin the others, all of whom were very palpably not looking in the couple's general direction.

Widdershins coughed once, ran her fingers through her hair (which didn't need brushing), told Olgun to shut up (though he wasn't saying anything), and, shoulders straight and chin jutting, strode over to the others.

Had she been less preoccupied with what had just happened, or with covering for what had just happened, or with the homicidal faerie haunting the city, she might have noted Renard grinding his teeth, or Robin's red-rimmed eyes-but odds were that even if she had, she'd never have correctly interpreted them.

“So,” she said, dropping into an empty chair and practically daring anyone to comment. “Have we decided anything?”

“Um…” Igraine coughed delicately. “His Eminence and I have discussed the magic in question, and we're fairly certain that you could briefly share a portion of your-that is, Olgun's-gifts with someone else.”

“Well, that makes things easier! I mean, I'm not sure that even two of me would be enough to take on Iruoch, but it's certainly-”

“There's also substantial risk,” Sicard interrupted, “that whoever linked with you would also suffer irreparable damage in the process. He'd be tapping into a divine power that wasn't intended for him. It's not inconceivable that it could cause the body to burn from the inside out, or become so stressed that even a small scratch could prove fatal.”

“Oh. Uh, that's less good, then.”

“It is.”

“Then what-”

“I'll do it,” Brother Ferrand said softly. Then, after giving the chorus of objections and protests a moment to subside, he continued, “I'm aware of the risks I'm taking. But you must understand, I've been part of this from the beginning. I aided His Eminence in his efforts. If there is any blame to be had for calling Iruoch to Davillon, I share in it. Bishop Sicard must cast the spell; he cannot be a part of it. I can.”

“Ferrand,” Sicard said, “are you certain?” He sounded as though he might cry again.

“I am, Your Eminence. I must do this. Please.”

Sicard bowed his head. Widdershins felt a gentle waft of sorrow from Olgun. “It won't be your fault,” she assured him. “All of which is well and good,” she continued more loudly, with a brief smile of respect to the monk, “but it's not sufficient. As I was saying, even two people who can do what I can do may well not be enough. We need more.”

“I can only link people in pairs,” Sicard said. “If we had others with your abilities-or even others who were more highly skilled than we are-I could work with that, but I cannot join more than one person to you.”

“Can we just overwhelm the creature?” Constable Sorelle asked. “I saw him take injury from a pistol, if only briefly. If we were to gather enough Guardsmen-or even Guardsmen and Finders together…”

Igraine and Sicard both shook their heads. “If Iruoch is drawn to emotion, as we believe,” the priestess said, “then he's certain to sense people's presence, however well hidden. If he feels there are enough of us to threaten him, he'll simply wait for a more opportune time. We have to keep the group small. Major Bouniard, have you any particularly skilled fighters in the Guard? Anyone whose presence might make a difference?”

Julien frowned. “My men and women are good, no doubt, but…Well, none that are so dramatically more skilled than myself that they'd tip the balance.” He shrugged. “Guards have to fight, but it's not all we do, so we can only train so much….”

“I know who we need,” Robin told them weakly. “So do you.”

Widdershins, at least, did Robin the courtesy of not pretending any confusion as to whom she meant.

“Are you completely out of your mind?!” she demanded (which, honestly, probably wasn't substantially more courteous than if she had pretended confusion as to whom Robin meant).

“Can you tell me I'm wrong?” Robin asked.

“Yes! Yes, I can. You're wrong! You're so wrong, there aren't enough syllables in the word ‘wrong’ to encompass how wrong you are!”

“Um, what are we talking about, here?” Sicard asked mildly. The two young women ignored him, if they even heard him at all.

“I'm not,” Robin said, “and you know it.”

“Robin…” Widdershins stood and put her hands on the younger girl's shoulders. “He's our enemy. He hates me. Gods, he kidnapped you!”