‘As we clopped up the freezing bank, I unfurled my beaten map, pulled out my spyglass, and took one last look at the lands behind. In our wake lay the Sūdhaem; warmer climes and little patches of civilization still free of coldblood hungers. But ahead, between us and the Volta, the war-torn wastes of Ossway awaited. The river was at least a month’s ride, presuming no one harried our steps. But truth told, I was hoping someone would.
‘“Why did Voss set the Beast of Vellene on your trail?” I called.
‘The question had been chewing at me all night and day, and now that we were across the water and safe-ish, it needed asking. I still felt too far in the dark about Chloe and her little band – where they’d come from, how all this started. If they were to be my bait for Danton, I wanted to know exactly what I was putting on my hook.
‘“How does the Forever King know about this Grail bullshit at all?”
‘I looked over my shoulder to Chloe, Dior sitting behind her. We were riding a thin strip of mud that could barely qualify as road. The dead trees were thick with shadow and frozen blooms of fungus, crusted with grey snow. But Chloe’s eyes were closed, and heavenward. Lost in prayer mostlike.
‘“Chloe?”
‘“I fear the fault is mine, Silversaint,” old Rafa sighed.
‘“Well, best start talking straightwise, priest. We’ve one of the most dangerous leeches in the empire hunting us, and I’d have the why of it. As soon as Danton gathers strength enough, he’ll be at us like a shoreleave swab to the nearest doxyhouse.”
‘The wanker paused his strumming. “He means to say ‘enthusiastically’， Père.”
‘“Merci, Bellamy, I understood the implication.” The old man turned dark eyes to me. “And I fear this Prince of Forever will not be the only shadow at our backs, Silversaint.”
‘“I’ve no patience for riddles, old man. Best start at the beginning.”
‘Rafa breathed deep. “I have served God since I was a young man. As a b—”
‘“Hold, hold.” I held up one hand. “When I said the beginning, I didn’t mean I wanted your fucking life story. Get to the part that matters, priest.”
‘That earned some sideways looks from the company; Chloe opening her eyes and raising one brow, Dior scowling, the wanker chuckling over his lute. And oui, I was acting bitchly. But it’d been over twenty-four hours since I’d smoked that pipeful upon Dhahaeth’s walls, and the thirst had me by the bollocks. The blood I’d squeezed out of that fledgling’s heart was still stowed inside my greatcoat, and I could practically taste it already. But we’d had no time to scratch ourselves, let alone to cook a hit of sanctus, so I’d been rationing what little I had left, smoking just enough to keep the edge off.
‘Mostly, anyways.
‘“Well, quite.” Rafa cleared his throat. “But to my point, I have served the Order of San Guillaume for forty-one years. I am a linguist and astrologer. A student of the universal spheres.” He lifted his arms skywards like a conductor afore a symphony. “And when the shadow fell across our sun, I devoted my life to uncovering how it might be undone.”
‘“What Père Rafa is too modest to say,” Chloe interrupted, “is that he’s one of the most pre-eminent scholars on daysdeath in the empire.”
‘The old man smiled with small, worn teeth. “You flatter me, good Sister.”
‘Chloe bowed. “Flattery well earned, good Father.”
‘“Oui, oui, I’ll tickle his taint later,” I growled. “But San Guillaume is a distillery, not a library. Used to be the finest barley fields in the Ossway on those hills. Even nowadays they make a vodka that’ll peel the paint off walls.”
‘“’Tis true my brotherhood made coin from the fruits of the bottle,” Rafa nodded. “But that coin has always been spent in acquisition and preservation of knowledge. San Guillaume boasts one of the finest libraries in the empire, Silversaint.”
‘“I’ve been searching for daysdeath lore in the San Michon Library the last seventeen years, Gabe,” Chloe said. “But ten years back, I heard tell from Frère Fincher that a monk in San Guillaume was also a keen scholar on the topic. I sent a missive, and Rafa answered.”
‘“Thus began a long correspondence.” The old man smiled, fond as a father. “And the finest of friendships, with one of the keenest minds I’ve encountered in all m—”
‘“Fuck me,” I sighed. “She’s already married, priest. And to God no less.”
‘“Are you trying to be a bleeding arsehole, hero?” Dior scowled. “Or are you just naturally gifted?”
‘“Shut your noise hole, boy. The adults are talking.”
‘Chloe squeezed the lad’s hand. “Dior … please …”
‘The boy fell silent, staring bright blue daggers at my neck.
‘“Over the next decade,” Rafa continued, “Sister Chloe and I traded information. Following a fragile thread through thousands of texts. With the good sister’s advice, I searched the Library with fresh eyes. And within the pages of a timeworn tome, I unearthed a message. Written in a manner that I believe you are familiar with, Silversaint.”
‘I met Chloe’s eyes, nodding slow. “What kind of message?”
‘“A poem. Penned in Old Talhostic. From holy cup comes holy light; the faithful hand sets world aright. And in the Seven Martyrs’ sight, Mere man shall end this endless night.”
‘“It’s a prophecy, Gabe.” Chloe’s eyes blazed with a familiar fervour. “A prophecy about the Grail, and ending daysdeath once and for all.”
‘I scoffed. “And the abbot let you leave San Michon on the back of that? Alone?”
‘“I finally convinced him there might be merit in all this a little over a year ago. The war had grown so deep by then, he could spare few ’saints for so thin a gambit. But he did send two brothers with me on the road. Frère Theo Petit and his apprentice, Julién.”
‘“I remember Theo,” I smiled. “A good man. A better blade. How is the old dog?”
‘Chloe lowered her eyes. Old Père Rafa made the sign of the wheel.
‘“We were ambushed one night,” he said. “Crossing the Ossway, shortly after I’d been collected from San Guillaume. A war party of the Blood Dyvok. Brother Theo and Julién …”
‘I glanced to the silversteel sword Chloe wore, realizing who it had belonged to.
‘“Shit …”
‘Rafa nodded. “We travelled on undaunted, more than a year now. But we needed more help. Young Bellamy joined us in Sul Ilham half a year back—”
‘I glanced at the wanker as he struck a note on his lute for dramatic effect.
‘“Young Saoirse has travelled with us perhaps three months,” Rafa continued. “And M. Lachance here is the newest addition to our little band.”
‘“Right, so madman’s poetry and little Lord Shitinhisbritches aside, how did the Forever King get word of any of this?”