We stepped through, one by one, into chaos. Doors were flying open and sentinels and soldiers were rushing in, holding their weapons at the ready. Aronson was grabbing the children and demanding to know what was going on, Captain Lorencz and Director Jaspin were shouting at the soldiers to calm down, and Reverend Pyke and another member of the clergy were calling out Cardinal Croix’s name with wonder. Magister Carel was there, too, getting to her feet, and Lieutenant Shrike was standing next to her.
“Far!” Nobilis Aronson looked sick but determined. “Far, stay here! I have something to tell you!”
I turned and saw a pale hand grasp the gap in the Line, holding it open. I looked back at my patron, wondering what on earth he was doing. Aronson swallowed, his eyes averted from a glare only sentinels could see, and pointed to Carel.
“That woman’s the head of the Banishat. And the Banishat is —“
“No!” I shouted.
“— the group that kidnapped and nixed these five children.”
For a moment everyone in the room froze. I gaped at Aronson, horrified. Didn’t he know what he was doing? How could he not know?
Far ducked back through the gap and pushed his way back into this world in a fresh gust of carrion-scented balewind. All around me, sentinels grew pale and staggered, closing their eyes or holding their hands up to ward off a glare only they could discern.
A man rose at the other side of the table.
“That’s enough,” he commanded.
My half-brother Domenico was almost fifty now, still handsome and fit. But now he wore the same rich but conservative clothing our father had worn, instead of the bright silks and jewels he’d affected as a young duke. His eyes were Lament gray, like mine, and if his hair had been black instead of blond, he would have looked just like our father, Sovereign Audrey Lament.
His eyes darkened with displeasure as he gazed across the room.
“Aronson, dismiss this creature.”
“I can’t, your majesty,” Aronson said with a trace of defiance. “Nobody can.”
“Arch-sentinel?” Domenico Lament turned to Carel.
Carel’s ice-blue eyes were wide as Far approached her. She moved a hand and a balesword flickered into being for a scant second before vanishing again. With an impatient hiss, she slid a slender stiletto from inside her Vigilance jacket.
Behind her, Lieutenant Shrike yanked out a pistol and leveled it at Carel’s head.
“Drop it,” she snapped. “Accused criminals don’t get to bare weapons in the king’s presence.”
“Far, wait.” I held out my hands toward the transient as if I could stop him by myself. “Nobody summoned you here. You’re in violation of your own ritual.”
Far halted, considering my words.
“I is go, he is call me.” The god gestured to Aronson.
“But he isn’t a child,” I argued, desperately. “You only kill for children. That’s the kind of god you are — the god of abused children.”
The transient turned its blurred face to me and I thought it was going to argue that it had also answered when I’d called it, but it didn’t.
“She hurt my children?”
I swallowed.
“I don’t want to answer that, Far.”
“I help you Kyrche find Kyrchye communicant, bring back. That is you want.”
I closed my eyes, knowing where this was leading. I had spoken this ritual into existence the last time we had crossed the Line, a ritual for adults that required reciprocal service.
“Yes.” I agreed, hopelessly. “Yes, you helped me find the man I was seeking.”
“I is make this my want. You say me: Is she hurt my children?”
I felt a jolt of psychic pain. The ritual had closed itself around us, bound us by its rules. I opened my eyes again, wondering what I could say.
“Doctor?” Jack’s voice was quiet. “We’d like to know, too. All of us.” The children were standing close to Nobilis Aronson, all traces of their bale-exoskeletons vanished as they watched the adults in the room with a heart-wrenching wariness.
“I can’t say for certain that Guildmistress Carel ordered any of you drugged and kidnapped,” I said, honestly. Far’s shifting, amorphous face pointed toward me, his dark eyes intent. “But — yes, Carel is the leader of the Banishat, and yes, she has been encouraging our five sentinels to demonstrate their powers in front of other Banishat. It was her assistant, Sentinel Hargraves, who called Yzyrchye into Blackstone Hospital this winter after Carel had put it under interdiction. I was also told by one of the childrens’ kidnappers that he was given his order from a woman who wore a Banishat mask and robe, but he couldn’t say for certain who she was.”
Carel gave me a furious look and I felt miserable. She had lied to the judge to protect me. I owed her something, too, didn’t I?
“All of this is circumstantial evidence at best,” I added quickly … although I was afraid, based on what I’d seen so far, that Far didn’t care about evidence. “But Far — it doesn’t matter what I say. You can’t kill her on your own cognizance. That’s ritual. You can only kill with a child’s petition.”
“Why are you bargaining with this hell-creature?” Reverend Pyke demanded. “Somebody banish it back across the Line!”
“Far’s locked the bale,” Captain Lorencz reported, her eyes distant as she looked at things only a sentinel could Discern. “No calls can go in or out.” She blinked, then gave Magister Carel a narrow look. “Bet I know where he learned that trick.”
“Far’s smart,” Milka said, watching the transient with a chilling intensity as it stood still, considering my words.
“How can it do that?” Pyke demanded. “It’s just a transient!”
“And a god,” Croix said, his voice calm. “Although a very young one.”
As the other faithful in the room recoiled, Carel ducked beneath Lieutenant Shrike’s pistol, twisting toward the door. Aronson spun, grabbing for her arm. Her stiletto flashed and he yanked his hand away, bright crimson welling through the puncture in his sleeve.
She grabbed his collar and the tip of her narrow weapon found a resting spot under his chin. I drew in a sharp breath, and next to me, Droit tensed. The five young sentinels looked shocked.
“Calm down, Aronson,” Carel said in a cold voice. She looked around. “And the rest of you, as well. This is balemadness, and we need to address it.”
“Magister Carel,” Lieutenant Shrike said, swinging her weapon around, “if you kill Michael, I’ll blow your head off.”
“I’m your supervisor, Sentinel!”
“Sorry. Sovereign trumps Vigilance.”
“If the lieutenant misses, it’ll be my turn,” Droit growled, glaring at Carel. “The only one who gets to kill my cousin is me.”
Domenico looked around with annoyance.
“Are you trying to tell me that nobody can call a balewall to break this up?” he demanded. The adult sentinels in the rooms shifted nervously. The soldiers lifted their rifles again, pointing them at the transient. Far was still motionless, ignoring the chaos around him as he stared at me.
“Very well.” Domenico sounded displeased. “Then we will address this matter first. Magister Carel, do you deny these accusations?”
“Of course I do!”
Aronson glared at her. Her fist tightened on his jacket and the stiletto pressed in harder.
“You were behind the kidnappings and the nix,” he said, his voice tight. “You might not have carried them out with your own two hands, but you were in charge of the Banishat, and the Banishat was responsible for it all.”
“You know, I bet Hargraves was the whistleup opened the breach in the Gilded Lily,” Captain Lorencz said, thoughtfully. “I saw him with Carel when I told her I was going there to snoop around, and sure enough, he was there at the club that night, too. I didn’t think much about it at the time, but I wonder if he called the razorbite to take me out … or Ezery Shaze, since Shaze was already getting leery of the Banishat and looking after Milka at that point. We know Hargraves was responsible for siccing Yzrychye on Droit in Blackstone.”
“Is this ‘Hargraves’ here?” Domenico asked, coldly.
“No, he died … uh, your majesty.” Lorencz shot Droit a quick, nervous glance.
“They’re balemad,” Carel said, flatly. “None of them has been the same since they crossed the Line — an incident I reported to you directly, your majesty. And now they’re bringing this … thing across the Line, endangering the entire city. Milka Nevenek?”
“Yes?” Milka lifted her chin, and I saw a cold, reptilian look in her eyes as she shifted her gaze from Far to Carel.
“Send Far back. This is neither the place nor the time for it.”
“Far? Please don’t let her hurt Nobilis Aronson. He’s been nice to us.”
Before anybody could react, Far stood beside her. His uncanny, shifting fingers closed around her hand and Aronson’s collar. With no sign of effort, he tore them apart, tossing my liege into Captain Lorencz and twisting the stiletto out of Carel’s hand.
“Far!” My voice joined the children’s in shock, but Far ignored us, throwing the weapon aside and grabbing Carel around the neck. She dug her nails into his wrist as she was raised off the floor. Chunks of bale tore away under her fingers, then promptly grew back.
Lieutenant Shrike turned her pistol on the transient and fired. The wall behind Far splintered and cracked as a bullet slammed into plaster. The hole the bullet had torn through Far slowly seethed and patched itself. The transient — the young god — never flinched.
“Dammit, Shrike, you nearly hit us!” one of the soldiers swore, his voice unsteady.
“Sorry.” She dropped the smoking pistol onto a table, expression grim. “Michael, tell me this thing can be hurt.”
Aronson was getting back to his feet, supported by Captain Lorencz.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I suggest you don’t anger it.”
I looked at my half-brother, expecting him to do something, but Domenico was strangely silent.
“Domenico —“ I began. He raised an eyebrow, looking straight at me for the second time since I’d arrived. I fell silent, recently reminded of our mutual promises to kill each other.
“I’ll stop it,” Reverend Pyke growled, but Cardinal Croix dropped a hand on her arm before she could step forward.
“Far, is this the kind of god you intend to become?” the cardinal inquired, his voice gentle. “What about your rules?”
“I have wait from when I is born when my children my communicants call me for help for this my first vengeance,” the balelord replied as Carel twitched in his grasp. “This my duty.”
The sentinel’s eyes bulged as her struggles weakened.
“Axton, bargain with it,” Lorencz said, swallowing. “Make another deal.”
Everyone but Domenico looked at me as though I had some kind of power over the transient. My half-brother’s eyes remained fixed on the murder taking place in front of him.
“Far, the rule is, a petitioner must call you from a hopscotch board.” I spoke quickly, my words stumbling over each other. “The children may have called you while they were nixed and senseless, but they never requested a specific act of vengeance. Carignan Carel must be named or identified as an abuser by a child, or else you’re breaking your own rules. Nobilis Aronson’s accusation — my own speculations — shouldn’t be enough. You serve the children, not us.”
Far’s grip loosened, and we all heard Carel’s ripping gasp for air.
“Doctor Axton?”
I looked at Milka. “Yes?”
“Do you think she ordered Shaze to be killed?”
“I don’t want to answer that.”
“Because the answer is yes?”
I clenched my fists. I couldn’t answer her question. Shaze had been Milka’s protector. I knew what she’d do if I answered her question. But it was no use — Milka read the answer in my silence and said exactly what I had feared she was going to say.
“Far, she hurt all of us. Please kill her.”
The baleknife flashed and plunged, and Carel’s blood sprayed across the desk. I shouted as the blood fountained from her throat and tried desperately to stop it, to call a balebarrier that would keep the blood inside of her —
Droit grabbed me and yanked me down to the ground as shots cracked through the room. Rifle bullets ripped harmlessly through Far and cracked against the plaster walls, sending shards flying. Ignoring them, Far flung Carel’s corpse across the room. It landed a few feet away from Milka, its blood soaking the fine parquet floor.