The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith) (11 page)

Terin stopped within arm’s reach of the Citizen and stared down at his feet. Blood smeared against the white marble from a gash across the top of his foot. Lines of red streaked between his toes. Like his jaw, the wounds didn’t hurt.

“Did you manage to hit my brother, slave?”

Terin trembled at the man’s emotionless tone. Before he had a chance to reply, the back of Emeric’s hand cracked against his sore jaw. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Citizen, sir,” he whispered.

Another hit jerked his head to the side and tears flooded his eyes. He blinked until the room refocused.

“How many times did you strike him?”

“Th—”

Zurach’s arm curled around him from behind and the man’s hand clapped over his mouth and silenced him. With the other hand, Zurach captured his brother’s wrist. “That’s quite enough. He’s my slave, Emeric, and I won’t have you damaging him.”

“You have no idea what you’ve brought into my house,” Emeric snapped back.

“I don’t care what I’ve brought into your house,” Zurach rumbled. The arm wrapped around Terin pulled him out of Emeric’s reach. With a low laugh, Zurach shoved Terin away and shifted his grip to take hold of his wrist. “Judging from your oh-so-pleasant expression, this should be good. Do tell me what I’ve brought your house, Brother,” Zurach said.

Emeric jerked free from Zurach and let out a snort. “You’ll like this.”

“Oh?”

“Not only did you steal a General’s slave, you stole from the Emperor’s favorite General. It gets better.”

Zurach’s grip tightened on him and the man grinned. “Oh is that so? How could this get any better?”

“I’ve brought you a present. Clean this mess up, get dressed, and I’ll show you.”

Zurach let go of Terin’s wrist and shoved him toward the divan. “You heard him, boy. Clean up this mess. When you’re done, take a proper bath. Don’t even think about trying to escape. Am I understood?”

Swallowing back a sigh, Terin bowed his head. “I understand, Citizen, sir.”

“Good. Let’s go, brother.”

“You’re just going to leave him alone?” Emeric asked.

“He’ll obey one way or another. Isn’t it fortunate for us that he wears a golden collar?”

Emeric chuckled. “You don’t even know how fortunate we are for that.”

The two men left and their laughter stirred something deep within Terin. It welled up from his stomach and settled in his chest, demanding release. It wasn’t until his nails clawed at his palms that he recognized the emotion as rage.

~*~

Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose and pretended the carriage didn’t sway. He’d lost track of how many times his stomach tried to claw its way up his throat. Using a cough to mask his too-frequent swallowing, he closed his eyes in the futile hope of ignoring the two men staring at him.

“You look terrible,” Frolar whispered in his ear.

“It’s been a long day,” Blaise replied, shrugging. The motion triggered a blast of pain centered behind his eyes.

“It’ll be longer still I’m afraid, Bishop Blaise,” Cassius said. “There is one other I must bring with us to the Cathedral, then I’ll explain everything.”

“Is this about the escaped convict?” Frolar asked in a low enough tone that Blaise let out a relieved sigh that the man’s voice didn’t add to the pain in his head.

“Yes and no, but I can’t tell you any more than that until Leopold is with us.”

“Leopold?”

“One of the Emperor’s advisers,” Cassius replied. The man let out a sigh. “All things considered, it isn’t wise for His Imperial Majesty to make another appearance, at least not yet.”

Frolar made a thoughtful sound. Blaise pinched his nose again before lowering his hands to clasp them together on his lap. He opened his eyes and focused his gaze on the other side of the carriage, not meeting the stare of either human.

“Understandable,” Frolar said. “It would bring too much notice if the Emperor came to the Cathedral.”

Cassius didn’t laugh loud, but there was no humor in it. “That it would. That it would, indeed.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with us,” Blaise said in a soft enough voice that both Frolar and Cassius cocked their heads toward him to catch his words. “The Emperor saw the exact same thing I did. I was right next to him. Why didn’t he just tell you to tell the Archbishop?”

“That is where the ‘no’ comes into play,” the Colonel replied. The carriage jerked to a halt and Blaise felt the blood drain out of his face from the motion. Cassius reached out to brush aside the dark curtain. “Ah, good. We’re here. I won’t be long. Make yourselves comfortable while I fetch Leopold.”

Cassius let himself out of the carriage and hurried toward a gated manor. Frolar reached over Blaise and shut the door.

“I don’t like this none at all,” the aging human muttered.

“Agreed,” Blaise replied. Something had spooked the Emperor’s man enough the scent of his fear lingered despite him being gone.

“You look ill,” Frolar whispered.

“I’ll survive, I promise you. I suspect I’ll just wish I wouldn’t for a while.” Blaise tried to force a smile, but couldn’t manage to do more than make the corner of his mouth twitch upward. “You did warn me.”

Silence fell between them. Blaise leaned back and closed his eyes.

“Steward Volas returned to God’s Garden during the night. There will be a service in his honor at midnight,” Frolar said. “It seems this is an ill-fated day.”

“May God welcome him with open arms and give him the brightest spot in His garden,” Blaise said. He should’ve muttered the prayer for the dead, but the feel of Volas’s brow on his lips was too fresh of a memory, and he couldn’t force out the words he’d already spoken.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

Blaise shook his head and winced at the throb the motion caused. “He’s been tired these past days,” he lied. “He deserves a pleasant rest until He plants his rose among us once more.”

Frolar made a displeased, wordless sound and Blaise cracked open an eye to tare at the other bishop. The man was frowning.

“He was smiling.”

Blaise’s smile came unbidden, and he didn’t fight it. “Is that not a good thing, Frolar, that his last moments with us were worth smiling for?”

The scent of anger wafted from the man and Blaise’s smile widened. If the steward’s joy bothered Frolar, Blaise could live with that.

Had God held open the Gates for His most loyal steward? Although Blaise’s eyes were divine, all he could see of the Gardens was a shimmer and a glimpse of the glory he’d left behind long ago. Frolar couldn’t understand.

Mortals never remembered the glory of the Garden in their lives, and Blaise wasn’t sure if their lack of memory was a curse or a blessing.

“You know, Blaise, I’ve never seen him smile before.”

Blaise felt his smile fade away,  and he struggled not to scowl. “I see. How curious.”

“What could make a man like that smile?”

The temptation to reach over and throttle Frolar dulled the throb in his head and his hunger roused until his mouth watered. He flared his nostrils to catch Frolar’s scent, but Cassius’s fear was too strong.

Blaise swallowed back his desire to devour the human’s soul and shook his head. If the old steward’s smile was even a shadow of its true beauty, it was more than many deserved. If Volas hadn’t smiled for Frolar, Blaise didn’t doubt there had been a good reason for it.

“He had a beautiful smile,” he said, and was rewarded with Frolar’s puzzled frown.

When Frolar didn’t break the silence, Blaise closed his eyes again and focused on keeping his breaths slow and even. The pain settled to a tolerable ache that promised agony if he moved too quickly or pushed himself any harder. He sighed.

Unless He took pity on Blaise, it’d be a long time until he’d be willing and able to give Alphege the slip and escape the confines of the church.

The door opened and Blaise felt the carriage bench shift under someone’s weight. It rocked when a second person entered and bumped into Blaise’s knee. He opened his eyes to see Cassius sit in front of him.

A young man sat across from Frolar. If the Emperor didn’t wear so many decades, Blaise suspected he would look a lot like Leopold. Blond hair fell over blue eyes and his beak of a nose was best suited for staring down at people with contempt.

“Citizens,” Leopold greeted, his tone far more pleasant than his face.

Blaise was surprised.

“Citizen,” Frolar echoed. Blaise remained silent and stared at the Imperial Prince with a thoughtful frown.

A footman clad in the pale purple of the Emperor’s livery shut the door and the carriage swayed into motion.

“What’s going on, Cassius?” Frolar asked.

“You were seated with my brother, weren’t you, Citizen?” Leopold asked, staring at Blaise with a frown, while ignoring Frolar’s words. “I’m surprised he permitted you to wear the rose at all.”

Blaise lifted his hand and stared at the cuff buttons. His blood stained the heart of the rose red. Silver gleamed at the ridge of each petal. “Who am I to question His Imperial Majesty’s good will?”

“Brother? You’re one of the Imperial Princes?” Frolar’s voice rose in tone and volume, with the last word cracking. Blaise glanced over at the bishop. The man’s face paled to white.

“An accident of birth, I assure you. Still, you must be influential for my brother to have allowed you to sit with him. Wearing my clothes, mind you.” Leopold let out a piercing laugh that kindled the pain in Blaise’s head. “I suppose it’s well enough I wasn’t so fond of those clothes. Cassius, introduce us.”

“This is Bishop Frolar and Bishop Blaise. Frolar, Blaise, it is my hon—”

“I’m Leopold, and I’ll have you executed if you use any title other than my name. I hope you don’t mind.”

Cassius sighed.

“I’m pleased to be your acquaintance, Leopold. I’d say the same, but I doubt I’d be permitted to execute an Imperial Prince. Please, call me Blaise.”

Leopold’s grin was far warmer than his brother’s. “I think I could get to like you, Blaise. As much as I can like a bishop, of course.”

“I’m not sure this is the ideal time for joviality, sir,” Cassius said.

“Do you want to be executed, Cassius?”

“I’ll get back to you on that, Leopold. If you kill me right now, His Imperial Majesty will take your head for a trophy,” Cassius replied in a dry tone.

“You might be right about that. So, what has he told you?” Leopold glanced over at Frolar and gave a nod, giving the aging bishop permission to speak.

“Nothing,” Frolar mumbled. When the man stared down at the floorboards of the carriage, Blaise couldn’t hold back a grin.

The steady rocking of the carriage roused Blaise’s queasiness and he leaned back and swallowed, hoping to settle his stomach.

“You really look like something dragged you face down through the hells,” Leopold said. “Would you rather wait to hear this when we’re at the comfort of the cathedral?”

Blaise lifted his hand and waved it in a dismissive gesture before touching his bandaged brow in the futile hope of dispelling the throb in his head. “I’ll live. Don’t wait on my account, Leopold. What’s going on that His Imperial Majesty would send his little brother to the Cathedral?”

“Which problem should I start with first, Cassius?”

“Just how many problems are there?” Frolar asked.

The two Imperials ignored the bishop. Blaise fidgeted under their stares.

“The slave, I think,” Cassius said.

Blaise let his hand drop to his lap and met Leopold’s eyes. “The boy Catsu stole? He wore the Emperor’s unmarked collar.”

“A grand collar, isn’t it? So you’re the one who got surprised by it? Better still! Did you like it? It’s my best creation,” Leopold exclaimed, then grinned.

“It was a jolting revelation. It’s well made,” Blaise replied, careful to keep his voice level and his expression neutral.

Leopold smirked. “It wasn’t too much of a shock for you, was it?”

“Oh, yes. We had quite the blast together,” he replied.

The Emperor’s brother snickered. “I think I could like you a lot, Blaise. Anyway, my brother wants that boy returned to his owner immediately. Alive and unharmed, if at all possible. I’ve been ordered to give the command phrases and unlocking keys for the collar to all bishops. He wants the collar returned intact.”

“What’s so important about this slave, Leopold?” Blaise asked.

There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence. “He’s the vessel for the Hand of God,” Leopold whispered.

Blaise stiffened and a low groan forced its way out of his throat. “You let a child hold the Hand?”

Rubbing at his forehead antagonized the gash and pain radiated through his head. The boy hadn’t shown any of the common signs of Obsession, but if the slave had been taken over by Lucin, it explained the way the slave had withstood Catsu’s attacks.

It also explained the restlessness in the song at the Arena. But, how had Blaise missed the signs of Lucin’s presence?

“An accident, I assure you. There’s always someone trying to steal it, you know. One of them got into the room with it, but the combat slaves on duty stopped the fool. Well, one of them fell against the case during the scuffle and the Hand landed on him. Of course, he cracked his head on the floor and knocked himself out for a week. I’d thought for certain he’d be mad like the rest of them. Surprised us all when he woke up as though nothing happened. He doesn’t remember any of it, but I don’t think I’d remember much either if I hit my head like that.”

“Unbelievable,” Blaise muttered under his breath.

“What was he doing in the Arena, then?” Frolar asked.

Leopold shrugged. “It seems his master sent him to do something for my brother, and he botched it. It happens. The Arena isn’t much of a punishment for a slave of his caliber. It would’ve served us all well if he’d killed Catsu.”

Blaise weighed the consequences of devouring the Emperor’s men against the satisfaction of ridding God’s Garden of both of them. It wasn’t their fault he disliked the Emperor. They hadn’t been responsible for his fall, either. Part of him wanted to like both of the mortals, although Cassius was too firmly leashed to the Emperor.