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ROWLE LICKED HER CLAWS. It was the third time in about fifty clicks. Being the Bureaucrat obviously had its privileges, but gods did it require a lot of waiting about. She hated coming up here; it gave her the creeps. Not just because of the number of worthy bloody Tinkralas under her paws, they were a double-edged sword, but being in this place, with that thing. She shivered.
The Tinkralas called this place the High Temple and had established a permanent presence. That disturbed Rowle; they needed keeping tabs on. Maybe teaching a lesson. But that was not for today. Today had a different agenda, part of a grander plan. Almost in response to her thoughts, she heard the heavy boots of her troops approaching. At last.
“Your Eminence,” the troop leader spoke.
“Captain. Do you have it?”
“Yes, Your Eminence.”
“Excellent. Find Astor and get this door open. We have no time to waste.”
The captain barked an order to a subordinate, who rushed off to summon the High Priest of the Tinkralas and Keeper of the Keys.
“Did you get to the human in time?” Rowle asked.
“Yes, Your Eminence.”
“Good, good. And removing the head?”
“Was no trouble at all. My sergeant is very good with a knife.”
“Excellent. You remembered the treatment?”
“Yes, Your Eminence, as you instructed the preservative was soaked into all the exposed tissues.”
“Good. And the body was... ?”
“Not more than 1000 clicks old. We waited till the Bridge-folk had gone and removed the body from where they had left it. We encountered no one. The remains we threw down a shaft.”
A waft of incense advertised the High Priest’s arrival.
“Rowle,” he said.
“That’s Bureaucrat Rowle to you.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Open the door please.”
“To the Sanctuary? The High Temple?”
“Yes, whatever you call it—open it.”
“But we must purify ourselves before we open the doors to the sacred presence.”
“You don’t need to keep up all that sacred presence nonsense with me.”
“It is not some kind of act, a pretense for the peasants.”
“Isn’t it? Oh, silly me. Get the door open.”
Astor rustled and clanked at his belt and fumbled the key into the door, huffing all the while. There was a click and a hiss. The door opened. The stench was physical. For all the times Rowle had been in here before, the smell, the volume of it, the depth of it, shocked her still.
“In,” she said, suppressing a gag.
“Yes, Your Em—”
“Quickly.” She knew how long the awful reek hung after the seal had been breached. The less time the door was open the better.
There was a hissing behind them as the door was resealed. She herded her guard captain and two of his lieutenants across the room to the massive Vat at its center. The High Priest skulked around the edge of the room with a requisite number of clerics. The plopping noises and uncomfortable warmth enveloped Rowle and reminded her of being boiled in soup. Or maybe being in the lair of some malign carnivorous plant, complete with cables and pipes festooned like vines throughout the space. And that was before it spoke. Somehow the awful thing was wired to a kind of mouth through which the noises came. Rowle did not understand how any of it worked and any amount of time spent contemplating caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.
For now, the Vat just hummed quietly. Not an electronic hum, but the hum of a distracted child.
“Bring it forward,” Rowle said testily, sensing the awkwardness in the room.
“Bring forth the new offering!” Astor said. Rowle sighed.
The soldiers shuffled nervously forward. The priests leaned in.
“We must prepare the offering!” Astor shouted.
“Just get on with it,” Rowle said from between clenched teeth.
The High Priest fussed and chittered around, while one of the clerics, who seemed to be a technician, reached for various bundles of wires and pipes, shaking some and flicking others until she seemed to be satisfied. There was an unnerving squelching noise as the pipes and wires were attached where needed.
“Done.”
“Thank you, Sap,” Astor said. “You may proceed, Bureaucrat.”
“Thank you. Now please, Captain.”
The ghastly trophy was dropped into the Vat with a bloop sound. There was a rustle of cables and then an odd silence. An in-between silence. That was all for now. One thing less to worry over so she could concentrate on her plans. This place would not run itself. Someone needed to be Bureaucrat. And for now, that burden lay squarely on her shoulders.
Rowle stood with her hands on her hips. “Is that it done then?”
“We must now wait and see if the new... offering... is accepted.” Astor took out a clicker-beetle and shook it to start it clicking.
“Ahh.” Rowle turned to her guard captain and said in a whisper, “The next part of our undertakings?”
“Underway,” he said.
“Good. The Duchy forces?” Rowle asked.
“Await your command, Bureaucrat.”
“Excellent. And our commando team?”
“In place, ready to seize our prize when the attack begins. The Collective won’t know what hit them.”
“Good. Give word immediately we are finished here,” she said, and then turned to Sap. “You will soon have a new toy to play with.”
“Oh?” Sap said, startled.
“I believe you will find it...interesting.”
“Thank you, Bureaucrat.”
“Think nothing of it. Besides, it will require your particular, technical aptitudes to put it to its best advantage.”
“It’s a weapon then?” Astor said.
“Such a blunt word. It could be many things with refinement. I have high hopes.”
“I’m sure,” Astor said.
“Are we done now?” Bureaucrat said. The beetle was still clicking.
“Not yet.”
Rowle harrumphed. The beetle stopped clicking. There was no noise in the room.
“Now, we are done,” the High Priest said. He left first and his entourage followed.
“Go. Go!” Rowle ushered the soldiers out of the door. As the door slowly closed behind her, she was sure she heard the Vat sigh.
