The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith) (12 page)

Leopold, at least, seemed to be too irreverent to be completely under the Emperor’s thumb.

“Instead, Catsu kidnapped the boy,” Blaise said, when he tired of the expectant silence.

“Stole,” Leopold corrected. “Bad luck, really. Only His Imperial Majesty, those in the room, myself, and now you two, know what he is.”

“You want the Erelith Church of God to get him back for you,” Blaise said on a sighed breath. He closed his eyes and wished the problem would vanish in a puff of smoke and flame, but when he opened them, Leopold and Cassius remained, staring at him with somber expressions.

The fact that Lucin left the boy’s soul intact chilled him more than the fact that the Emperor, for the first time in hundreds of years, possessed someone capable of holding the Hand of God. Memories taunted him, awakening from at least a thousand years of slumber, and roused fear he hadn’t felt in centuries. He swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat.

“It gets worse,” Leopold said in a cheery tone. “I don’t suppose I can convince you lads to pass on the news for me, can you? I’d appreciate it.”

“I don’t understand,” Frolar burst out. “How can this get any worse?”

Leopold and Cassius both sighed.

Blaise’s apprehension erupted into fear that kept him silent for a long moment and drove away his pain. The memory of destruction long-since forgotten by mortals haunted him. “You lost the Hand, didn’t you?” he whispered.

Silence answered him. Blaise groaned, rested his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands.

~*~

As if sensing their salvation lay in the hands of the church and the military working together, the people of Upper Erelith City swarmed the Cathedral in a pack so thick Blaise yearned to unleash his true nature to scatter them. He wasn’t sure if he trusted himself to pass through them without devouring a few of them due to his frustration.

Blaise leaned against the carriage and considered sitting on footman’s step.

“Is there another way in?” Cassius shouted over the incessant murmur of the crowd. While the people didn’t scream or shout or run, their fear clung to them in a miasma so strong that Blaise’s stomach churned.

“We could try entering through the gardens,” Frolar suggested.

“The place looks surrounded on all sides,” Leopold said, gesturing to the crowds flanking the cathedral grounds. “Bishop Blaise? Will you be well?”

Blaise winced. “I will be once we find out if the Heart is where it belongs.” No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t sense his tail’s bone with the pain ripping through him.

“We don’t need more trouble, Blaise,” Frolar snapped.

“Someone did try to steal it last night,” Blaise admitted with a shrug that worsened the ache in his head.

“Are you serious?” Leopold groaned.

“They tried,” Blaise replied.

“No wonder the Archbishop was in a panic when searching for you this morning. Don’t you know what the word ‘moderation’ means?” Frolar asked with a shake of his head. Blaise wrinkled his nose at the gray-haired man.

Blaise opened his mouth to reply when Leopold cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Please don’t argue, bishops. You’re drawing attention.”

“Of course I’m drawing attention. You did happen to notice I’m covered in blood, right? I’ll take care of this problem,” Blaise said, letting out a snort despite the pain it caused him.

“Moderation!” Frolar snapped.

“Cassius?” Turning to the Colonel, Blaise took off his gloves and handed them to the man. They were brown and red with his blood.

“And what do you want me to do what with these?” Cassius replied, taking them and waving the gloves in Blaise’s face. The scent of his blood tickled his nose and he sneezed.

“Hold them for me a moment.”

“I’m not your burden slave, Bishop.”

“You wanted to get to the Cathedral, right? You can be quiet and hold my gloves, or you can expect to get through sometime tomorrow. Frolar, if I can’t manage to follow, take them both to Alphege. I’ll join you when I can.”

“Blaise, can you please use a little moderation? Your face is white,” Frolar replied. “Please?”

“Can you handle this crowd?” he challenged.

“No, but…”

“I can. I’ll be fine,” Blaise replied, hoping it wasn’t a lie. While he didn’t doubt he could clear a path, he wasn’t sure how long his tired human shell would last before it forced him to hibernate and heal. “Alphege needs to know what’s going on now. Not tomorrow, and not in an hour or two, which would be our best hope otherwise.”

“Do what he says,” Leopold ordered. “Go on, then. Make us a path, Blaise.”

“Don’t waste any time once I start. Understand? If I can’t follow, I’ll catch up later.” Blaise drew a deep breath and let it out in a slow and controlled breath. The simple act of standing tired him, and the thought of calling out enough of his very essence to drive away so many exhausted him.

Leopold gestured to the driver and footman on the carriage seat. “Keep an eye on him.”

“Yes, Leopold, sir,” the driver replied, saluting the imperial Prince.

“Don’t get in my way,” Blaise warned before holding out his hands and splaying his fingers. The caked blood cracked and pulled at his skin. He didn’t Speak, instead he focused on a more primitive part of him. His flesh shivered and twitched, and Blaise struggled to contain the desire to embrace his true form.

The part of him predating Lucin and Mikale cried out for release, fighting against the binds keeping his divine nature contained within a mortal shell. Blaise whispered a prayer, not sure which one he uttered or who it was meant for.

“Move.” Blaise whispered the word, and allowed some of his essence to escape through his lips. Without turning around, without so much as a curious glance, the humans shuffled out of his way. A gap large enough for them to file through opened. Blaise forced his breath to remain even. Sweat beaded on his skin and chilled him.

Frolar and Leopold dove through the opening and shoved their way through the crowd. They shuffled into a jog before breaking into a full run. Blaise grinned and wondered if either of them realized what they fled from.

Cassius’s hand wrapped around Blaise’s wrist and pulled him into the crowd. His startled cry didn’t make it out of his throat, smothered by the exhaustion weighing him down. With each ragged breath, Blaise’s strength flowed out of him.

He didn’t remember crossing the distance from the carriage to the cathedral steps, or how his arm ended up draped over Cassius’s shoulders.

“I told you to leave me,” Blaise mumbled.

“And risk the Archbishop’s wrath? A good Colonel knows which battles to pick,” Cassius replied. “Get us inside before he collapses, Frolar.”

Frolar stammered, “O-of course.”

Blaise struggled to pull away from Cassius, but his wobbling legs betrayed him. The ground invited him to lie down and rest, its silent and seductive call pulling at his consciousness. Someone pinched his ear, drawing a snarl out of him.

“Sit him there,” Frolar said. “I’ll find the Archbishop.”

The cool of a stone bench soothed his burning skin, and he let out a relieved sigh. “I told you to leave me,” Blaise repeated.

Cassius let out a chuckle. “Orders are orders, and my orders were to bring you here.”

Each beat of Blaise’s heart threatened to crack his head open. Closing his eyes kept the worst of the pain at bay, but did nothing to settle his churning stomach. “Please at least tell me there is no other news.”

“I won’t tell you then,” Leopold said.

“Unbelievable.”

The Emperor’s brother snorted. “It’s nothing near as important as to what we’ve already told you.”

“What is the meaning of this?” the Archbishop demanded.

Blaise sighed and draped his arm over his eyes and winced at the pressure against the bandaged wound. Ignoring Alphege wouldn’t make him vanish. “He did try to warn me. That’s all I have to report, your Eminence,” he announced.

“Blaise Gabriel, God has far too much patience with you,” Alphege replied. “Please forgive my rudeness. Be welcome to the cathedral, sons of God, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Your Eminence,” Cassius replied. “I am Colonel Cassius, and this is Leopold.”

“We’ve met,” Leopold and Alphege said. There was a moment of silence. Leopold chuckled.

“Frolar, take Blaise to his chambers,” Alphege ordered.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to insist he join us,” Leopold interrupted. “He was in the Imperial Observatory when Catsu fled the arena.”

“I see that I’ve missed much,” the Archbishop replied. “Can you walk, Blaise?”

Before Blaise could think of a reply, Cassius took hold of his arm. “I’ll see to him,” Cassius replied. “My apologies, your Holiness. I insisted he push himself more than wise out of necessity.”

Anger bolstered Blaise. With a jerk of his arm, he freed himself from Cassius’s grip and rose to his feet to glare down his nose at the Colonel. “I’m not dead yet,” he muttered, grinning at the taunt, though he didn’t quite dare to explain its nature to the victim of his sour mood. Cassius frowned as if knowing he’d been mocked. The man shrugged and remained silent.

“My study isn’t far. Blaise, here,” the Archbishop said, thrusting something at him.

It wasn’t until Blaise’s fingers curled around the Heart of God that he realized what he’d been handed.

“It’s many things, but no one has ever claimed it wasn’t a staff,” Alphege whispered in his ear.

Blaise wrinkled his nose and kept silent. Leaning on the Heart surpassed relying on a mortal for support, even if it didn’t mask his weakness. He felt his lips curl up in a grin.

At least he wasn’t likely to find any true predators in the cathedral, not with so many suffering from fear and nerves.

“Thank you,” Blaise muttered.

“I don’t think this will take long. My brother asks for your official aid in this matter,” Leopold said. “I trust it won’t take much explanation for you to understand the import of your cooperation.”

“Wait until we get to my study, Adviser Leopold, so no overeager ears listen before due time,” Alphege replied.

The Heart of God sang in Blaise’s hand, and its joy smothered all but the worst of his aches. His healing bones resonated with Aurora’s song and strength flowed into him. The scent of roses tickled his nose and surprised a sneeze out of him.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting sick,” Frolar groaned.

“Sneezing doesn’t mean I’m plagued,” Blaise replied. Straightening, he tapped the Heart of God against the floor just to hear its click.

“Enough, you two,” Alphege scolded.

The study the Archbishop led them to wasn’t located within in the inner sanctum, but attached to the library. Blaise sank down on the first of the chairs scattered in front of the old desk that dominated the far wall. He stretched his legs out and swallowed back a groan. The others waited for the Archbishop to sit before choosing their seats.

Alphege stared at the Heart of God, but the man didn’t ask for it back and Blaise didn’t offer it. “I understand that a convict escaped with a slave from the Arena. Many were injured, and many more killed. I already sent some acolytes to aid, should the Emperor permit it. What else is there?”

“That’s as good of a place to begin as any,” Leopold said, pulling out a piece of parchment from his pocket. It bore the Emperor’s seal in purple. Blaise sniffed and the acrid fume of ash, smoke, and wax teased his nose. “I would’ve been here sooner, but the Emperor wished me to bring this as thanks for your aid.”

The parchment passed hands and Alphege cracked through the seal and read the note. The man’s brows rose to his hairline. “You’ve been busy, Blaise.”

“It’s been a long day,” he mumbled, squirming under the Archbishop’s glare. “Is there a problem?”

“I don’t recall asking you to renegotiate the terms of the Church’s presence in the Arena, Bishop Blaise.”

The silence suffocated, and Blaise studied the crimson stone set in the center of the bone staff.

“I’m pleased with the results. We’ll have to have a long talk soon, I believe.” The Archbishop stared at him until he lifted his gaze and nodded his acknowledgment.

Blaise wondered how angry the Archbishop would be if he vanished, preferably for long enough for all who might remember him to be gone from the mortal coin, called back to God’s Garden. “As you wish, your Holiness.”

“What’s going on?” Frolar asked.

“The Emperor has granted the church the right to have five bishops and ten of those of lower rank within the arena during events. When called upon a Bishop will be invited into the Imperial Observatory, clad in casual Citizen’s attire,” Alphege announced.

“Which, of course, means the best that crystal can buy. I’ll recommend an excellent seamstress for you,” Leopold said. The prince let out a hearty laugh. “Surely your God plays a great game with our lives, Archbishop. With that out of the way, there is a more pressing matter: The Hand of God has been stolen and its vessel taken as well. His Imperial Majesty requests for the Church’s aid and confirmation that the Heart of God is safe.”

“Granted. The Heart is right there,” Alphege replied, gesturing to the staff in Blaise’s hand. “Of course the Church will offer all of the help possible to ensure that the Hand of God is returned to the Emperor.”

Fear drowned out all other scents and Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose so he could breathe out of his mouth. That the Archbishop kept his voice so calm amazed Blaise. The worst of the stench came from old man.

“Who is the vessel?” Alphege asked.

“The boy Catsu stole from the Arena,” Cassius replied.

Leopold cleared his throat and the Colonel fell silent. “I’ve been ordered to give you the commands for his collar. The Emperor asks that he be returned alive if possible.”

“I’ll need a full description of this boy. A slave, you say?” Alphege leaned back and pressed his fingers together. The man frowned and met Blaise’s gaze. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“If it appears that the Hand will be used, the slave is to be killed.”

“Understood. Frolar, take Blaise to his chamber and come see me when you’re done making certain he is resting comfortably. Blaise, I’ll speak with you later. After you’ve been tended to.”