“Twists back on its users,” I interrupted, surprised to find the answer on the tip of my tongue. “Like it did to the Raven King.”
Now that I thought back to the memory—Leander standing opposite the page, holding the folded missive—surprised didn’t seem like quite the right word. He hadn’t been surprised. He’d been angry. As though…
“Just because he’s been influencing them doesn’t mean his command over them is complete. Suppose, for example, he orders a group of spirits to destroy Saint Eugenia’s relic. They fail in the attempt. Then he gains custody of the relic and no longer feels that it needs to be destroyed. But he hasn’t commanded the remaining spirits to stop trying; he hasn’t realized he needs to. And then he’s in for a nasty surprise when they proceed to attack him, because he’s the one bearing the relic. It doesn’t matter that he’s the ritual’s practitioner—their orders are clear. Destroy the relic. They’ll keep trying until they succeed, or until they’re destroyed themselves.”
“And the possessed soldiers… he might have ordered the spirits to do something, but he didn’t order them to do it by possessing people. Except he didn’t expressly forbid it, either.”
“Yes, precisely. Rituals need to be highly specific about their boundaries to go according to plan. Even adepts make terrible mistakes from time to time, and no matter how clever he is, the priest is no adept. Anyone who tries practicing Old Magic now will be working with incomplete resources—scavenged pages, half-burned manuscripts.”
I was still thinking about those first possessed soldiers. What if they had fallen victim to nothing more than an early test of Leander’s command over Old Magic? I wondered how many people had died. If any of the soldiers had lived. “How do you know?”
“I was there,” the revenant answered. “I saw them burn.”
A shiver ran through me. But its answer shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The revenant was ancient; no doubt its power had been used to battle Old Magic before.
“That still doesn’t explain what he wants.”
“What do you know about him? Think, nun.”
I cast back through my memories. The first to leap out was the look of disgust on his face when I’d told him I wanted to be a nun. Why would you ever want such a thing? And then, in the harrow, when I had continued to defy him—I think it’s possible that you don’t know what you want.
“He wants power,” I said slowly. “It’s so important to him that he can’t understand other people not wanting it.”
“Go on.”
I thought of the way the Divine had gazed at him. Fondly, adoringly. But he was still her inferior and always would be. Despite his young age, he had already risen as high as he could in the Clerisy’s ranks. He had obtained the most powerful relic he could control.
“He can’t get any more of it through the Clerisy,” I finished. “If he wants more power, he has to find it elsewhere.”
“I’ve seen a thousand humans like him. If it helps, they always end up dying in ghastly ways. I would happily volunteer, but unfortunately, we can’t just kill him and be done with it. We need to find out more about the rituals he’s been practicing first. Old Magic persists beyond its practitioner’s death, and we need to know exactly what he’s set in motion.”
I glanced out the loft door. Jean had abandoned his vigil beside the stable to sit down on the ground among the chickens, looking huge and forlorn as they pecked the straw around him.
“Is that what you want to use Jean for?”
“Right now, if I tried extending my power far enough to locate the ritual site, any human using a relic inside Bonsaint would sense my presence immediately. We need a trace to follow more discreetly. He should do nicely as a starting point.”
This was the second time I had detected a suspicious undertone of excitement in its voice while talking about Old Magic. It didn’t just know a great deal about the subject; it was also interested. “Will that hurt him?” I asked, trying not to let my suspicion show.
“That’s what you care about?” I felt a jab of annoyance. “No, he shouldn’t feel a thing. I’m not an amateur.”
“Then let’s do it now,” I decided.
“What? Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“You’re too weak. You need to rest first. No, listen to me. You’ve barely eaten since you became my vessel. You’ve barely slept—don’t argue!” it hissed, when I opened my mouth to object. “Passing out from exhaustion doesn’t count. You need to recover your strength before you tax yourself again.”
“We don’t have time. Now that we’re in the city, we’ve left everyone outside Bonsaint defenseless. The spirits could attack other provinces next. We have no idea what Leander is planning.”
“It will take time for the spirits to rebuild their numbers after yesterday. Old Magic can’t call forth an army that no longer exists.”
“Hundreds of spirits got away.”
“And thousands didn’t. The rest will be in hiding now, too afraid of my power to emerge until they’re compelled again.”
“But more will rise,” I argued. “Even if most of Roischal’s dead become shades—”
“I know what I’m talking about,” it interrupted. It sounded angry now. “I’ve devoured more souls, living and dead, than your pitiful mind can even begin to fathom. Most spirits would rather leap into the Sevre than cross me. Don’t ever forget what I am, nun.” It gripped me and gave me a fierce internal shake, hard enough to rattle my teeth.
It had been a while since the revenant had done something like that. I wished I had my dagger on hand. Then again, even if I did, I wasn’t certain I had the energy to use it.
“I won’t,” I said simply. I was surprised by how tired I sounded, my tongue thick in my mouth. My head felt heavy against the stable’s wall.
The revenant was silent a moment. Then it said, “The Old Magic will take time to fade. Meanwhile, in your current condition—if I attempted to trace it, you might not survive. And I assure you, you won’t be able to help anyone if you’re dead.” Its voice seemed to be getting quieter, farther away. “Sometimes, if you want to save other people, you need to remember to save yourself first.”
* * *
I slept. And slept. Once, I partially awoke to hear the tolling of the fifth bell. The late light slanting through the loft door was the color of melted butter, motes of dusting swirling lazily in its beams.
The next time I awoke it was to the revenant shaking me again, urging sharply, “Nun, you need to wake up. You aren’t well.”
I groaned. My body sweltered in the sun’s merciless heat, but that couldn’t be right, because when I cracked open my eyes, the sunlight had gone. A square of night sky hung beyond the loft door. My chemise clung to my body with sweat.
“You’re feverish. You need to drink water.”
I pushed myself upright, then sagged back down to my side. My eyelids felt heavy, drooping shut of their own volition.
The revenant paused. Then its voice came rushing back, vicious with malice. “It would be child’s play to possess you in this state. I could claim every soul in this convent. Every loathsome nun, every stinking peasant, and you would have to watch.”