The Fall of Ossard (18 page)

Inquisitor Anton looked at the assembled faces, his gaze lingering on me. He stood and said, “I wage a war against the servants of the Horned God. You all know this, it is after all what the Inquisition is for, but do you have any idea of what it means?”

He let a silence settle, and then continued, “It means that I right what is wrong. I don’t do it for one poor soul, but for all our people. It sounds noble and I suppose is, but in its doing I am tasked with terrible deeds. I have orphaned children because their parents succumbed to heresy, but that’s not the worst of my judgements, I have also razed villages and even once a whole town.

“Because of my work I am marked for damnation by a hundred different gods, all aspects of the same dark power. You see, I am the one sacrificing all, not the ones I judge, and I do it so the rest of you may live on through salvation.

“You all have a chance at an afterlife. It’s your reward for the hard existence we lead here, but I will never see those heavenly fields, walk those olive groves, or see us dine together in a golden vineyard while relishing divine wine. My reward for fighting heresy in this life is damnation in the next. I shall be a plaything of the pits, the bitch-slave of dark powers, yet I would not change a thing. It is my penance.”

His eyes came to rest on me as he continued, “If it means burning the high ladies of every Heletian city for witchery, I will, even if I have to build the pyres and light the fires myself. But on occasion some types of evil can be found to work towards good.” His eyes shifted to Kurgar. “Then there are times when we all need to work together regardless of where we come from or who we think our real enemies are.

“Tell me of the people waving and burning oleander. They speak of Saint Santana, protector of children, an unknown to me. They also speak of her lady, one Juvela Liberigo.”

The Benefice answered, “We’d not heard of Saint Santana either, not until yesterday. A lone Heletite began preaching of her in Market Square. Amidst the fear of the kidnappings he’s found it easy to gather believers.”

“And what was this so-called Heletite doing for his flock?”

Vassini answered, “Selling relics and amulets.”

“And where is he now?”

“Dead,” the Benefice said curtly.

Surprised looks passed about the table.

“I see, and how did that come to pass?”

“He killed himself last night.”

“I see. How convenient. Has word spread of our Heletite’s death?”

Vassini looked down to his hands where they nursed each other on the table. “We tried to suppress the news, but it still seems to have found the street. They say that I killed him, personally, that I strangled the very life out of him. They call him a martyr!” The Benefice opened his hands and flexed his plump fingers.

The monk beside Vassini added, “And already there are other Heletites preaching.”

Inquisitor Anton nodded. “I see, and what of Lady Juvela? I believe she is here amongst us.” His eyes turned to me.

“I am, Inquisitor.”

“So, what is your connection to this false saint?”

“None, we just saw the Heletite selling relics in Market Square.”

“Did you speak with him?”

“No.”

“Did he talk to you as part of his preaching, perhaps pointing you out in the crowd or some such thing?”

“No, not that I know of.”

“Did you buy one of his trinkets?”

“No.”

“So, why are you claimed as the saint’s lady?” His gaze was piercing.

“I don’t know. We never spoke to the Heletite, and only listened for the briefest of time.”

His eyes narrowed. “What happened after you left him?”

I took a deep breath and told my tale, “The Cathedral bells began to toll for the sixth kidnapping as we moved on. People panicked. In the chaos I noticed a lady crying out and trying to shield her child. I went to help, and it was then that I disturbed the kidnapper…”

He corrected me, “The cultist?”

“Yes. I was scared, but also so angry about the kidnappings that I just charged him.”

“And stabbed him?”

“Yes.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you normally walk the streets armed?”

“No. I took a knife from my daughter’s bodyguard, grabbing it from his belt.”

“Did it never occur to you that your bodyguard might be a better person to handle such a weapon?”

“It all happened so quickly, and I was so angry…”

“And scared?” he asked.

“Yes! But I just wanted to get him away from the child he was about to take. That the blade wounded him at all was as much luck as anything.”

He nodded. “Then what happened?”

“The child fell weakened and listless, but back into her mother’s arms. I think the little girl had fainted. At the same time my daughter’s bodyguard arrived and drew his sword. The kidnapper, startled by the challenge, worked some kind of magic and disappeared.”

The Inquisitor nodded. “We will speak of this further another time.” And in my mind his voice whispered, “I know your truth!”

The air prickled around me as a chill crawled over my skin. As if in answer, I heard the rising growl of the voices inside my head, they snarled like wild dogs, starved and desperate. They hated him, and the heat of that hate quickly melted away the chill.

Inquisitor Anton cleared his throat and continued, “To the matter at hand; the ritual. I have examined the scene and issued instructions for the warehouse to be piled high with wood, oiled, and burnt. The place is an open sore and will lie weeping until it is cleansed. We can live with a scar, but not a festering wound.

“Lord Liberigo, when the fire has burned down to the ground, taking those poor defiled bodies with it, you can see about sealing the sewers and rebuilding the warehouse if need be.”

The Lord asked, “What if the families wish to retrieve the bodies to conduct funeral rites?”

“There can be none.”

Benefice Vassini looked appalled. “But what of their souls?”

“It’s too late, they’re already gone.”

Vassini paled as did the others about the table. “Gone?”

“Consumed by the ritual.”

Lord Liberigo queried, “And the purpose of the ritual?”

The Inquisitor sobered for his answer. “To create something.”

“What?” Lord Liberigo pressed.

“A beacon, and if we don’t act quickly it
will
attract who it calls.”

Lord Liberigo whispered, “And who is that?”

With fatigue in his eyes, Inquisitor Anton replied, “The Horned God.”

During the course of the day we spoke of many things.

The Inquisitor voiced suspicions that the Santana sect might be a front for one of the forbidden faiths. He feared it was just a bridgehead, and perhaps the first of many, something that would allow the
new
and
unknown
to become accepted.

It made sense, for in our spiritually lax city the new saint had already achieved a following in just a few days.

He’d said, “And what happens when those perpetrating this myth provide something to lend it credence? What happens when the frightened see proof of this new saint’s power? We will lose them. We have to discredit the sect and quickly.”

No one disagreed, and in truth I think we were all impressed. Yes, he had a pit of venom to draw upon, spouting dogma and easy hate, but a good deal of what he said came considered.

By the late afternoon we’d finished our discussions, with most of the time taken up in the planning of various searches of the city by the watch. Many attendees left the chamber quickly, rushing to act on our discussions - but not the Inquisitor.

He walked across to Sef, Pedro, and myself, greeting us with a bow. All the while he never took his eyes from mine. Finally, he said, “You
see
?”

There seemed no point in denial. “A little, but it’s all I can do.”

“For now, until you receive training.”

“I’m alone. I have no plans for training and wouldn’t know where to go in any case.”

“You are a Flet. Your people have a long history of magic, something that has always been of concern to the Church. The forefathers of this city were well meaning when they accepted your people as refugees, but they were also blinded by the promise of cheap labour and convertible souls. Sadly, it’s not come to pass. You Flets have only maintained your old ways, spoiling what was once a godfearing city. Such divisions cause weakness.

“The people of this city will pay a high price for their forefathers’ decision, and Ossard will not come out of this as it went in. The city will be reborn, but afterwards there will be no place here for you or your kin.”

His eyes narrowed. “This is your warning: If you were of no use to me, I’d drag you outside and into the square and burn your tainted hide to cinders right now. Instead I ask you to help me clean the city. When all is done I will help you gain shelter elsewhere, we could even see you and your family settled in Fletland.”

I was stunned by his words.

His lips then curled into a scowl. “Fletland will be fine for you, anywhere will be as long as you leave here. You’ll not be welcome in the
New Ossard
. You are Demon. Even if you begged me to let you take Krienta as your saviour, I would deny you. Your soul is filth!”

Pedro gasped.

And any hope of last night’s warmth between us being rekindled died.

As if reading my mind, the Inquisitor said, “My son, mind yourself, if you give her your love she’ll take your soul.”

Pedro stood stunned by his words, yet accepted them.

The Inquisitor added, “If you want Krienta’s salvation you must be free of demons. You live with this one and bravely deny her, yet… yet there is another…” His eyes squinted as he concentrated, slipping his perception into the celestial to skim Pedro’s very being. His face tightened with the effort and then his lips drew themselves into a sneer. “My son, you have already given your love to the other. You are forsaken!”

My own mind raced; who could Pedro love?

And my husband paled. “I haven’t, I love no one!”

The Inquisitor’s sneer faded, but only to become grim. “You have thinned your Heletian blood by having issue with this witch, you have fathered a daughter of damnation!”

Pedro’s face lost its fear, colour flushing his cheeks. He raised his arms to fold them across his chest, the movement squaring his shoulders. He would listen to me be branded a demon, but not his beloved Maria.

The Inquisitor said, “See, the little beast has already ensnared you. She no doubt uses her big blue eyes, curly black hair, and honeyed giggles as her weapons.”

I turned to Pedro to see his eyes sparkling with anger.

The Inquisitor said, “Such spirit! Most melt away, some have even dropped to their knees and offered me their own kin for burning, but not you, oh no, not you our
most
pious Pedro. I’ve heard about you, and I know that you will offer me nothing, not even your own wife despite the crippled feelings between the two of you.”

Pedro didn’t flinch. “I offer you nothing, but to my god I offer everything.”

Anton smiled. “And what god is that?”

“The same god as you.”

“But your daughter is demon-spawn, do you not fear her?”

Pedro unfolded his arms, and reached across to grab one of my hands, “
Our
daughter is but a little girl, innocent and loved.”

Anton looked down at our joined hands. “Nothing is what it seems.” He then turned to me. “And what of my offer?”

I noticed Kurgar loitering behind the Inquisitor, distant but listening.

“You speak to me as though I’m nothing, but also ask my help?”

He smiled. “Strange, isn’t it. I am genuine. You help me get the city through this, and I’ll spare you and your family, but you will have to leave it along with your people.”

I said nothing, so he added, “Please, there is so much more happening here and no one is telling you the full truth of it. If you help me, I will give you one morsel of it here and now.”

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“I will address the crowd gathering in the square, you need do no more than stand tall and proud and deny any involvement with this new saint.”