‘Chloe pressed her lips thin, but nodded. “Véris, Abbot.”
‘“Let’s be about it, then,” Greyhand grunted. “Sunset waits for no saint.”
‘The Silver Sisters had brought a spare sosya, and as Chloe bandaged Dior’s wounded hands, I wrapped myself in a blanket for the ride back north. Dior climbed aboard a stout grey fellow, and I caught her looking back across the Mère. The shattered ice and cold ashes, the remnants of immortal monsters, proven all too mortal by her hand. Her coat was dusted with snow and spattered with blood, and I had the almost irresistible urge to brush her hair the fuck out of her eyes.
‘Instead, I proffered Danton’s sabre and bowed like a gentle at court.
‘“What’s this for?” she asked.
‘“To the victor the spoils. It’s the finest sort of blade, good to practise with.” I smiled, dried blood cracking on my cheeks. “We’ve lessons to begin, you and I.”
‘She grinned in return, took the sabre and looked it over. “It is pretty.”
‘I handed over the Beast’s scabbard. “Just don’t cut your fucking hands off.”
‘She chuckled and hung her head, ashen hair over her eyes.
‘“I’m sorry, Gabe,” she murmured. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”
‘“Apology accepted. So long as you don’t do it again.”
‘She raised a bloody right hand. “I do solemnly swear: no more lying to Gabriel.”
‘“Good.” I winced as I climbed up behind her. “Because dramatic chases with immortal hordes gets the blood pumping and all, but I’m not as young as I used to be.”
‘“Should I fetch your walking stick, old man?”
‘“Cheeky bitch.”
‘“Coming after me was foolish, you know. You said it’s always better to be a bastard.”
‘“Privileges of being a father. Don’t do what I do, do what I say.”
‘She smiled faintly, blue eyes still on the bloody ice. “Merci. For following me.”
‘“I told you. My friends are the hill I die on.”
‘“We’re still friends, then?”
‘“The strangest sort. But oui.” I breathed deep and sighed. “Still friends.”
‘She smiled wider, impish, and leaning up, she kissed my bloody cheek.
‘“The fuck was that for?” I growled.
‘“No reason,” she lied.’
XXIV
THIS ENDLESS NIGHT
‘IT ROSE UP before us like it had that findi seventeen years ago, wreathed in snow-grey fog. And though I’d seen it a thousand times, still, I knew what Dior felt as she looked to the bluffs above and breathed a frozen sigh.
‘Simple, jaw-dropping awe.
‘“Fuck my face,” she whispered.
‘Seven lichen-covered pillars towered above the frozen valley, crowned with the familiar haunts of my youth – the Gauntlet, the Armoury, the Cathedral. I remembered the years I’d spent here: quiet moments in the Library’s dusty stacks, feasts of victory and hymns of praise and stolen moments of bliss in the arms of she who was my love.
‘Before I’d lost it all.
‘I felt a wave of nostalgia, that sweet poison seeping into my heart, that vain and selfish desire to dwell among glories of the past, when days were better and simpler, when all the world seemed bright, tinted rose-red in the halls of memory. But it’s a fool who looks with more fondness to the days behind than the ones ahead. And it’s a man drenched in defeat who sings that sad refrain; that things were better then.
‘Fincher told me that Kaspar and Kaveh had both married, moved back home to Sūdhaem, and I didn’t know the lads who came out from the stables to take our horses. I didn’t know the gatekeep who winched us up on the sky platform, nor any of the Silver Sisters who stood with Chloe and watched me sidelong as we rose up from the valley floor. They knew me of course – the Lion the dark had feared, the boy Empress Isabella had knighted with her own blade, the fool who’d stolen a bride from God. And in returning to this place, I felt like a man who’d found an old coat he wore as a boy, slipping it onto his shoulders and discovering it no longer fits.
‘Sad for youth lost.
‘Proud that he has grown.
‘But most of all, uncomfortable.
‘“We must begin our preparations with Dior,” Chloe said, her voice almost trembling with anticipation. “The Rite must be conducted at dawn, and there is much to make ready.”
‘“What is this Rite?” I asked. “Where does it come from?”
‘“Unearthed in the depths of the Library’s forbidden section. An ancient text written in bloodscript, penned by a Grail scholar before the rise of the empire, and translated with poor Rafa’s help over many years.” Chloe made the sign of the wheel, hung her head. “The book is very old. So fragile the pages might turn to dust if you touch them ungentle. Hence, I couldn’t bring them with me in the search. But this is fitting anyway.” She smiled at Dior like a mother twice proud, waved to the grand Cathedral as we rose into view of it. “It is here, in the church of the First Martyr, that San Michon’s descendant shall put an end to the endless night.”
‘As ever, Chloe’s fervour was contagious, and the ’saints and sisters around us murmured, staring at the girl beside me in soft awe. “Véris.”
‘Dior gazed at the Cathedral in wonder. With Isabella’s patronage, it had been restored to its full glory, thrust skywards like a spear unto heaven, black stone and beautiful windows of glittering stained glass. “Do I … do I need to do anything?”
‘“Perhaps a bath is in order?” Chloe chided. “But no, love. You need only be yourself. Almighty God, the Mothermaid, and Martyrs shall do the rest.”
‘Dior looked to me, and I nodded. “Go with Chloe. I’ll not be far.” And taking Dior’s hand, the sisters led her across the rope spans towards the Priory. Greyhand murmured that he must prepare for duskmass, that we would talk anon. De Séverin slapped me on the back, and Fincher grinned. “What say we buy ye a drink meantime, Brother?”
‘“Throw in a tunic and new greatcoat, and I’ll get the first round,” I smiled.
‘The Brothers laughed and saw me to the Barracks to wash the blood and ashes from my skin, and from there, to the Armoury. Seraph Argyle was in the forge, among his blackthumbs as ever – an old man now, but still broad as barns and hard at work, his iron hand wrapped about the blade he was hammering. He nodded greeting, but seemed not overjoyed to see me, even after all those years; the stain of my sin didn’t wash out that easily. But he didn’t protest at least as I grabbed myself some fresh leathers.
‘Looking about me, I saw again the mark of coin in the walls and the works – San Michon was a splendour once more. Yet I couldn’t help but notice it seemed emptier somehow. Emptier even than in the days of my youth. Paleblood numbers had always been thin, but it seemed that here, like everywhere else in Elidaen, the war had carved its mark.
‘The sun was sinking by the time I was done, and the bells were rung for duskmass. I knew I’d need to attend the Cathedral for the Rite at dawn, but I’d no stomach for prayer that night. And so, I fetched a bottle from the refectory beneath the stares of curious kitchenhands, and made my way to the Library. I wandered among the stacks for a time, drinking from the neck and thinking on all that had been. The great map of the empire was laid out at my feet, the wolves of Chastain and the bears of Dyvok and the ravens of Voss spread like a bloodstain across all the five countries of the realm.