CHAPTER TEN

 

the citadel

John Shea’s footsteps echoed softly on the worn stone steps that led him deeper into the catacombs beneath the Citadel. His soul-light illuminated his path through the dank corridor, driving the black rats from his path. The darkness behind him matched his mood. The message to meet beyond the crypts had come from the Lord High General of the Citadel’s armies, Xavier Sarr. These midnight meetings never brought good tidings, and John had enough concerns without Xavier’s bad news.

The Rabbinate’s Inquisitor Adam Zimmer had left this morning after spending a few days at the Citadel. Zimmer had diplomatically suggested that John might need the Rabbinate’s help in bringing Lucian to justice. The Rabbinate didn’t want to see the situation get out of control; they felt an earlier intercession by neighboring bastions would have prevented the Zoroastrian schism. John’s fingers twitched.

The only thing that prevented him from sending Zimmer on his way prematurely was his respect for the Rabbinate’s Seraph. Ephraim Cohen and John had served together in Woerld as Inquisitors then Seraphs for over fifty years. They loved each other like brothers, and John knew that if this situation had involved any of his Katharoi other than Lucian, Ephraim never would have sent Zimmer. Yet it was Lucian, and had their positions been reversed, John would have seen fit to send his Inquisitor to make sure the situation was firmly in hand. Although he understood Ephraim’s reasoning, he didn’t like the insinuation that he couldn’t control his Katharoi.

At the bottom of the stairs, John veered left down a long tunnel until he reached a wooden door held together with rusting iron bands. This set of corridors branched away from the Semah River, and though the air was drier, dampness still seeped down the walls. John found his key, and the oiled hinges allowed the door to open without a sound. Xavier’s spies kept these routes immaculate.

It had taken John years to fully develop his network of agents, and longer years before he was satisfied with who could be trusted. After Lucian’s betrayal, John swore he’d not be caught off guard again. He would not tolerate another Lucian. Ephraim had nothing to worry about.

He rounded a bend in the tunnel and saw Xavier’s dark form illuminated by his own soul-light. The General dwarfed the two guards that flanked him; he looked like a great black lion with his dreadlocks framing his face. Like John, he’d forsaken his formal robes of office for a shirt and heavy pants to ward off the tunnel’s chill.

The guards snapped to attention and Xavier bowed.

John waved their deference aside. Xavier gestured to the guards and they split up. The woman went to the right, the man to the left. They moved several yards away to watch the branches in the corridors to make certain no one stumbled on the meeting.

Xavier stepped aside so John could approach the cell. He opened the metal door that covered a small barred window. Through the opening, John saw a rough wooden table with a bench on either side. Torches blackened the walls of the windowless room with acrid smoke.

On one bench, a young man sat with his wrists chained to the table. The youth stared at the opposite wall with red-rimmed eyes. His olive skin gleamed with perspiration. He sat perfectly still, his breathing shallow.

Victor Ramos. The youth was around fourteen years old, just the age to get into trouble without firm supervision. What had the boy gotten himself into while Aldridge was gone? John clasped his hands behind his back.

A shadow moved in the far corner of the cell. John caught the faintest sheen of coal black hair and recognized Gayane Balian, the Citadel’s Chief Intelligence Officer. If she was here, the news was dire.

John stifled his anxiety. Xavier and Gayane were veteran warriors, and they would sense his disquiet. John’s Elder, Miriam, had instilled in him the same code that she lived by as Seraph. The first rule was never let the members see their Seraph doubt himself. Regardless of his inner turmoil, he must always show a calm facade. John stilled his soul and closed the metal door that covered the window. He turned to Xavier. “What’s going on?”

“That is Victor Ramos,” Xavier said. “Caleb Aldridge is his Elder.”

“I know who he is.”

“He’s one of Gayane’s cryptologists. He came to her this morning with this.” He produced a piece of yellowed silk from his pocket.

John took the swath and unfolded it. He gazed at the incomprehensible sigils splayed across the page long enough to recognize an encrypted message. “What does it say?”

“It’s a report from one of our spies in Hadra.”

That was a rare spot of good news. “So, our people in the northern provinces aren’t dead?” He handed the cloth back to Xavier.

“No. This one is only a few weeks old.” Xavier leaned close and lowered his voice. “I’ve suspected for some time that our messages were being intercepted. I thought the messengers weren’t making it out of Hadra, but it seems I was wrong.”

“How so?”

“This one was found in Constable Aldridge’s satchel. Victor brought it to Gayane this morning. I’ll let her tell you what happened.” Xavier opened the door and stepped aside so John could go in first. 

What was Caleb Aldridge doing with an encrypted message? John couldn’t staunch the dread rising in his chest. Rachael had all she could handle with the Wyrm. What if he’d misjudged Caleb?

Victor turned his panicked gaze on John and went so white that John feared the boy’s heart had burst. A tear leaked from one eye and Victor reached up, but the chains stopped his hand just short of his face. He had the wild look of a trapped animal.

Unbidden, John recalled seeing the same terrified look on Lucian’s face when he’d been arrested. John’s pity rose for the boy, but he’d show Victor Ramos no more mercy than he’d shown his own foundling.

Gayane stepped forward and bowed. In spite of the ragged scar that crossed her proud nose to fall across her cheek, she was a beautiful woman. She was also a killing machine with a cunning mind. John trusted her and Xavier with his life.

“Your Eminence,” she said.

Xavier closed the door and took his place at the head of the table, his stance relaxed.

John acknowledged Gayane then sat on the bench. He looked into Victor’s eyes but spoke to Gayane. “Tell me what you’ve found, Commander.”

Her soft voice was barely audible beneath the sound of the torch flames. “Victor came to me this morning with a message from one of our spies in Hadra. He said he found it in his Elder’s satchel. Victor, tell the Seraph what you told me.”

Victor blanched like he’d been struck.

John knew from experience it was better to come off tough at the beginning. “Well?”

“I stole the missive,” Victor whispered. “I took it from Master Caleb’s satchel.”

“When?”

“The morning the Hell Gate opened. When Master Caleb got your summons for the directive, he left his satchel in his office. He usually locks the bag in his desk, but I think he forgot about it in the excitement. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was curious. I looked inside.” He absently pushed at the chains’ cuffs as if he could slide them off. “There were several missives there. I took the one on top.”

John glanced at Gayane.

She said, “Victor is learning the more complex codes. He told me he wanted to practice deciphering the message. He initially thought he had a ciphered message from one constable to another. He put it in a drawer in his room and forgot about it until a few days later. He started working on it. He correctly deduced the message was from one of our spies.”

Xavier spoke up. “Not the kind of information Caleb Aldridge would be privy to.”

Gayane nodded. “When Victor realized what it was he came to me.”

John’s trepidation grew. “And you think the other missives in the satchel were also from our spies?”

“That’s my theory,” Gayane said.

“Where is the satchel now?” John asked. And those missing reports.

“It seems to have disappeared, your Eminence.” Xavier glared at Victor, who refused to meet the General’s eyes.

Gayane took over the narrative again. “Victor attended Peter Richardson’s funeral with everyone else. I’ll vouch for his presence there; he stood next to me. He didn’t go back to the apartments he shares with his Elder until the evening of the funeral. That’s when he noticed the satchel was gone.”

John looked at Victor. “Why didn’t you tell someone, son?”

Gayane put her hand on the youth’s shoulder. “Tell him, Victor.”

John saw Gayane’s fondness for the youth in that one gesture.

Victor took three deep breaths before he could continue. “That night, before I went upstairs, I saw Commissioner Dubois in the atrium with a similar satchel. I didn’t think anything of it until I saw Master Caleb’s was missing.”

The boy was lying. John saw it in his eyes, read it in his words. He had been a judge, and he knew the signs of deceit. “Why did you wait so long, Victor?”

“I just deciphered the message today.” He glanced up to Gayane, but she remained silent.

John didn’t believe him. “You noticed the satchel was in Dubois’ hands, which meant that someone other than staff was in your rooms. Didn’t that disturb you?” Out of the corner of his eye, John caught Xavier’s smile of vindication. John placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “I think you deciphered that message the same night you saw Dubois with the satchel. Now you tell me why you waited so long to notify Commander Balian about the message.”

Victor stared at his hands miserably. “Miserere mei, Deus,” he whispered and choked on a sob before he could finish the prayer.

Miserere. Have mercy. John kept Rachael’s ruined face before his eyes. God Almighty, what if he’d misjudged Caleb, and Rachael, half devoured by the Wyrm, was riding with a traitor at her side? A traitor he had appointed. He had no mercy left in him for the likes of Victor Ramos. John slammed his palms on the table. “Tell me the truth, boy! Or your suffering has just begun.”

“I was afraid!” The youth’s words were barely intelligible. “I didn’t want Master Caleb in trouble, because I knew—”

“You knew he’d drag you down with him?”

“He’s my Elder, your Eminence.”

Now John saw it. If Caleb was suspected of any wrong-doing, his foundlings would also be alleged to be corrupt.

Victor met John’s gaze. “I swear before Christ, your Eminence, I did not know.”

John raised his hand, and Victor stopped talking. If what Xavier and Gayane implied was true, then Dubois and Caleb were obstructing information to the Seraph. John turned to Xavier. “Speak plainly to me. Do you believe that Dubois and Aldridge are intercepting our messages?”

“We don’t know anything for certain, your Eminence. All we have are suspicions,” Xavier said. “I had a brief message via carrier pigeon that Judge Boucher and Constable Aldridge stopped at the Eilat outpost for provisions. That would have been two days ago. The message indicated that all was well.” Xavier paused, and John wondered if the General wasn’t trying to reassure himself too. None of them wanted to believe Rachael was riding with a complicit member. Xavier continued. “It’s possible that Aldridge didn’t know what the missives were, your Eminence. Dubois could have been using him as a courier with Aldridge thinking the notes were being sent to you.”

John desperately wanted to believe him. He struggled to reel his emotions under control, but he couldn’t shake the horrible feeling that he’d sent Rachael to her death. I’ve killed her. Lord God, I’ve killed the one I loved the best.

John’s fingers absently found the cloth and he returned his attention to Victor. The boy was in a no-win situation. If he accused Dubois, it would be the word of a protégé against the word of the Commissioner, and Dubois was known for his retribution against perceived enemies. Regardless of whether they were loyal to the Seraph or the Commissioner, the constables would see it as their duty to make Victor’s life a misery, just as they had with Lucian.

John pressed his thumbs against the corners of the silk. “Who else have you spoken to about this, Victor?”

“No one, your Eminence. I swear before God, no one!”

Gayane’s fingers tightened on the boy’s shoulder, but he didn’t calm. It was obvious Gayane thought Victor was innocent, but John wondered if her fondness for the boy was clouding her judgment. If he had not allowed love to blind him, he would have seen Catarina and Lucian’s downfall coming. Gayane needed to stand back from this boy’s fate.

Xavier glanced at the door. “The only ones who know about this are the four of us and my two guards out there.”

John looked at Victor, but all he could see was Lucian’s misery staring back at him. He didn’t temper his words. “You’re under arrest, Victor Ramos. I won’t forget you went to Gayane with the report, but you’ve lied to me. I can’t trust you. Whether you’re guilty or not, if Dubois or any of the constables, including Master Caleb, find out what you’ve told me, your life will be forfeit. Do you understand?”

Victor bit his lower lip. A trickle of blood reddened his teeth.

“Do you have a place to keep him, Gayane?” he asked. “Some place where he won’t be found unless I need him?”

Gayane’s face betrayed no emotion, but John sensed she wasn’t pleased. “We have some cells down here. It won’t be comfortable, but he’ll be out of sight. I can arrange a reason for his disappearance so no one suspects he’s been arrested.”

“Excellent, have it on my desk in the morning and I’ll sign off on it. Get him out of here.”

Gayane took Victor to the door and waited until one of the guards came to her. She spoke briefly to him, then he disappeared with Victor in tow. When Gayane returned to Xavier’s side, the General lowered his voice. “Should I order Dubois’ arrest, your Eminence?”

“On what charges?” When Xavier didn’t answer, John shook his head. “You can rest assured that Aldridge’s satchel and those missives have disappeared by now. We’ve nothing to charge Dubois with. We need proof. So, we watch them and we act as if we know nothing. Give them enough rope; they’ll hang themselves without the least effort from us.”

“I’ve already arranged for my people to watch Dubois,” Gayane said. “And Bartell.”

John raised his eyebrows at her. “What does the Lord Inquisitor have to do with this?”

“Nothing,” Xavier said. “Yet.”

John examined the General’s stony features. Xavier, like Rachael, hated Reynard Bartell ever since he used Lucian’s conviction to advance to Inquisitor. Prior to Lucian’s betrayal, Xavier and Lucian had been the best of friends. Both were excellent strategists and thoroughly enjoyed their friendly rivalry during war games. John had no doubt that to this day Xavier felt Lucian was wrongly convicted.

Reynard certainly hadn’t been John’s pick as Inquisitor, but the Council had been unanimous, and at that time, John was in a poor position to argue. However, he refused to allow his personal feelings for the man color his judgment. “Is this your vendetta against Reynard, Xavier?”

Xavier’s features remained impassive. “Reynard and Dubois are close. If Dubois is under suspicion, then we must do everything we can to assure ourselves of our Lord Inquisitor’s absolute innocence.”

John’s smile felt tight. “Nice hedge, General.”

Xavier didn’t blink. “Thank you, your Eminence.”

“They won’t make a move without us knowing it,” Gayane promised.

“And you—” John pointed at her. “—watch that boy. Might I recommend that you don’t get too attached to him? Just in case.”

She arched a shapely eyebrow at him. “In case he’s using me?”

In case he’s another Lucian, John thought. “Guard your heart, Gayane. I speak to you from experience.”

Her expression didn’t change, but he saw concern flicker in her eyes.

John caressed the silk and pushed it toward her. “What does it say?”

Gayane didn’t bother to look at the cloth. Her confidence returned; she was back in her element. “It’s from Matthew Kellogg, written three weeks ago. He states that Catarina has solidified her position in Hadra. She has not moved on the churches and temples, but it’s merely a matter of time before she does.” Gayane hesitated and glanced at Xavier. “The last portion is a personal message for you, your Eminence.”

John closed his eyes. “Go on,” he whispered.

Gayane cleared her throat. “He says: ‘I have dreamed and the Lord has spoken to me. A lost sheep will seek his way back into the fold. Miserere.’”