‘Bellamy tilted his head. “The enemy of my enemy—”
‘“Is just another enemy, Bouchette. I’m only pondering which will pay a visit first.”
‘“Well, I still believe we should pay visit to San Guillaume,” Rafa said. “The abbot may have got word from Pontifex Gascoigne by now. For all we know, there is an army of God-fearing soldiers in his Holiness’s colours, waiting to escort us to San Michon.”
‘“For all we know, the Pontifex will declare our tale a heresy,” Bellamy said.
‘“The Church has been ruled by fear and misplaced fervour in past nights, ’tis true.” Rafa nodded. “But Pontifex Gascoigne is a good man. He near emptied the Church’s coffers feeding the dispossessed who flooded to Augustin after daysdeath fell. He is a true and holy servant of God.”
‘“Trust me, Father,” I scoffed. “He’s like every politician I’ve known, holy skirts or no.”
‘The priest ignored me, looking to Chloe. “We should head to San Guillaume, Sister.”
‘“One capitaine,” Chloe replied. “One course.”
‘Rafa pursed his lips, but held his objection along with his tongue.
‘“What’s in San Michon that you’re so keen to get back to, Chlo?” I asked.
‘“There’s no safer place for Dior in all the empire. And it’s not just the silversaints. San Michon also has its Library. The forbidden section, the secrets inside. Words are our greatest weapons in this war, Gabe. It’s not just the tale of Esan. The Prophecy speaks of a way daysdeath can be ended, and I believe I found that too.” She looked to the boy behind her, and her eyes shone as if she looked upon the Redeemer reborn.
‘Adoration.
‘Belief.
‘“Dior is going to save us all.”
‘The boy smiled, but I saw uncertainty in his eyes. For all the holy sister’s fervour, the shit he’d given me, I could tell Dior himself still wondered at all this. I knew what it was to be a lad that age. To have a weight on your shoulders you’d no wanting of. Truth told, he handled it better than most. But he met my gaze, and I saw his own harden.
‘“The fuck are you gawping at, hero?”
‘I shook my head and sighed.
‘Still an obnoxious little prick, though …
‘We headed north, days on end through the rising chill. This stretch of Ossway seemed utterly abandoned, its folks likely fled south after Dún Cuinn fell. We passed ruined farmsteads, roadside tavernes, ghost towns – all empty, save for the rats. Those bastards swarmed thick, grown fat and fierce on the dead and all they’d left behind. I knew why this place had been left to rot. With no Laerd Lady to protect them, there’d be little sense staying here to be preyed upon. One more slice of the empire gone. One more jewel snatched from old Alexandre’s hollow crown.’
The Last Silversaint tilted his head ’til his neck popped, drained the last from his wineglass. Jean-Fran?ois looked up from his tome.
‘Laerd Lady?’ the vampire asked.
Gabriel nodded, refilling his glass. ‘Ossway was a matriarchal nation. Before it got fucked seventeen times sideways by the Blood Dyvok, anyways. The whole region had been part of the Elidaeni Empire for centuries, of course. Alexandre III ostensibly ruled it all. But the individual fiefs were ruled by femmes. Clan council run by venerable dames. Husbands from outside the clan took the matriarch’s name when wed.’
‘Sounds positively enlightened,’ the vampire murmured.
‘Depends who you ask. The practice was steeped in worship of the Old Gods. A feminine aspect of the Wild, the Hunt, the Moons, called Fiáin. But the Holy Church beat the paganism out of the Ossians over time. A few traditions survived. Women fought in wars beside their men. Women had the rule of the hearth. But instead of Fiáin, local worship shifted to the Mothermaid after the Wars of the Faith. There were more churches and abbeys devoted to her in the Ossway than anywhere else in the empire.’
Gabriel leaned back, sipped at his wine.
‘It was only in the most remote corners where the ancient ways truly lived on. Old World religion. Worship of Fiáin. Wild Hunts. Fae witchery. All rare enough to be considered folklore by most. But the silversaints knew better. Even before daysdeath, there were places in Ossway where a man wouldn’t dare be caught alone after dark. A few clans up in the Highlands who still took that shit seriously.’
‘Such as the Dúnnsair?’ Jean-Fran?ois asked.
Gabriel nodded. ‘Such as the Dúnnsair.’
‘Your good friend Saoirse was one of these … fae witches, then?’
‘Well …’ Gabriel shrugged. ‘There’s magik, and then there’s magik. But there wasn’t an ounce of silver in that axe of hers, and Kindness still went through coldbloods like Philippe the First through his mistresses. And young Saoirse didn’t tattoo her face just for the aesthetics. There’s power in ink, coldblood. And not just the silvered kind.
‘We bedded on high ground when we could. The weather was worsening by the day, but if we were elevated, at least we might spot them coming. Only Phoebe and I could see for shit in the dark, and it’d have been ludicrous to light torches. And so we camped at night, and slept barely a wink. We could risk no flame to cook by, either, so meals were even more of a misery march. And worst of all? The fear that was really chilling my piss?’
‘That Danton must surely be tracking you?’ Jean-Fran?ois asked. ‘That you knew nothing of that masked highblood, yet she seemed to know you exact? That the Inquisition was surely still stalking you, and yet you’d seen no sign of them since the ?mdir?’
‘No.’ The silversaint scoffed. ‘My vodka was running low.
‘I was sat in the bare branches of an ancient oak, bottle propped beside me, cursing beneath my breath. The tree was one of a dozen in a tall copse atop a rugged hill. The wind blew so fierce and constant from the north that the trees had grown in crooked, the branches swept sideways like windswept hair, wrapped with ropes of asphyxia.
‘“I hate this fucking place,” I growled. “Nothing grows, save in the wrong direction.”
‘“What is that, Silversaint?”
‘Bellamy lay on the branch above, nodding to the parchment in my hand. I was shading in the lands of the Cuinn with charcoal, fingertips smudged black. “Old map of mine. Just keeping track of the knucklebones Alexandre has lost in this game.”
‘“Do you know where we are?” Chloe called from the tree next door.
‘I shrugged, tracing a dark line on the parchment. “Must be close to the Dílaenn by now. Things might get easier once we cross, but I’m not sure where we can do that. There used to be a bridge up past Haemun’s Hill, but I’ve no clue if it’s still standing.”
‘“We can ask Saoirse when she returns,” Chloe said.
‘Bellamy shivered, curling over in his furs. “I must confess, mes amis, when I set out from the capital two years back, I’d no notion I’d end up in a place such as here. Not that the company isn’t of finest quality,” he added hastily, “but on nights like this, I miss Augustin. Her little cafés and broad boulevards, doe-eyed lovers wandering her canals arm in arm.” He shifted on his branch, sending a smattering of snow onto my head, and he sighed all the way from his soul. “My heart aches to see her again. My Augustin, and her empress divine.”