They’d fought their way through the tunnels, driving back the shades with the light of their swords, pursuing their quarry at the Hierarch’s command.
Then the gang had barred their way. One of them had sprung out of nowhere, stabbing toward Seth with a jagged bit of broken ship.
The fire lashed out before he could call it back. The man died in a column of golden light. It happened so quickly that he didn’t have time to scream.
Unleashed, the fire spread like wine from a split cask. It sloshed and raced across the oiled sand. The dried-out ships exploded. The Grief burned away.
The flames caught the gang, incinerating them.
Blinded by the smoke, Seth and the knights retreated.
Dawn revealed the devastation. The whaling beach lay scorched, with much of its sand turned to glass. The iron cauldrons remained, soot-coated and lonesome, but everything else, the boats, the bodies of the gang that had barred their way, the bones and skin of the whales—all was ash. It rained like flecks of snow.
“Bastard,” one of the knights said.
Seth squeezed his eyes shut.
He didn’t look, didn’t want to know who’d said it.
“We will return to the temple,” the Bishop announced, turning to lead them toward the city gates. “We must report to the Hierarch and seek his guidance.”
They followed her into a Versinae hushed and cowed by fear.
Seth slunk into the Bishop’s shadow as the common people turned from them. Parents put arms around their children to protect them from a monster—from him.
The cadre reached the temple. Seth flushed at the relief the dome brought, the shadows that would hide his shame. He deserved no shelter. He’d brought fear to the people. He’d murdered the gang.
Geldar stood beside the altar, deep in contemplation, looking as still as the statues. Seth had to force himself to not rush forward and throw himself at the old priest’s feet.
The Inquisitor met Seth’s gaze and gave the smallest shake of his head. Seth froze as the Hierarch entered the temple. His morning robes were crimson. They flowed around him as he walked. Over them, he wore a coat of golden scales. A number of Knights Elite trailed after him.
Seth forced himself to straighten his spine. He would face the god’s wrath as a knight should.
“Clear the temple,” the Hierarch commanded.
The common folk trickled away, hurried along by the red-caped knights if they loitered.
The doors were shut, sealing out the dawn. Only the wide beam of the oculus and the altar’s candles lit the dome’s interior.
Standing in the light, the Hierarch lifted his arms, held them high, and prayed, “Eos, Dawn, open your gates. Give to us your insight. Show us your brilliance.”
Seth knew the goddess of the dawn, but he did not know this invocation.
He echoed the Hierarch’s prayer.
The Bishop prayed quietly beside Seth, though he could not make out her words.
“Show us the will of your father,” the Hierarch continued, his voice booming through the temple. “Send us your Oracle to speak your truths.”
The Hierarch pressed his hands to the altar.
The light from the oculus pooled like burning honey, molten and sparking. It splashed upward. Seth flinched, ready for it to rain down and burn only him, but the light gathered instead, flowing into a liquid, winged form. She hovered over them, robed in amber light.
The Hierarch turned to the faithful with an expression of pride.
Seth held in a breath and regarded the golden figure as the Hierarch faced her. It was a wonder, a mystery, and despite his failing, he felt his heart lighten at the sight.
“Lady,” the Hierarch said. “Daughter of Eos.”
Her voice was not a voice. More of a warm whisper, like a spring breeze, like a song inside Seth’s mind.
What would you know? What would you know that I may tell? Not all is meant for mortals and those who walk beneath his light.
Seth gaped. He’d never seen or heard anything so beautiful. It made him want to be better, to be the knight he should be. It made him want to confess all of his failings, to purge them, to become more.
“All has come to pass,” the Hierarch said. “The box has been opened.”
So it was said, she sang. The demons long to return. All you’ve done, in his name, to prevent this, shall be rewarded.
The Oracle dipped her golden head. She fixed a molten eye on Seth and the sight burned through him.
“The thief has fled the city,” the Hierarch said.
Dark draws dark as light draws light, but only one may cast the other out. The lesser demons will serve the elder as the noble will serve the gods.
The Oracle bowed her head in thought.
He must be found, and the demon captured. It holds the key to the Moon’s Door, to the return of Phoebe and the one she will bring with her, the one who would end Hyperion’s light.
Seth did not completely understand, but he shuddered to hear her mention demons. The gods’ ancient enemies must not return. That might explain what had happened to Zale, how someone, a demon, could have opened the box.
“We need guidance,” the Hierarch said. “Where will we find the thief?”
The Oracle raised her face to the sun. The light fell prettily, glittering over her wings and her shifting robe of molten amber.
To dead, sad Thiva, send one cadre. There, in the eastern heights, they will find the one you seek. Her wings stretched as she looked them over. She faced the assembled faithful, her golden, pupilless eyes lingering on the Bishop, on Seth, and Lathan.
Your quarry lies on the Isle of the Dead.
The light dissolved, and she was gone. Seth cooled as if a storm cloud had obscured the sun.
“Bishop,” the Hierarch said, turning to her. “Your request is granted. Ready your cadre to sail for Thiva.”
“Yes, Your Holiness,” she responded with the slightest of bows.
“Geldar,” the Hierarch said. “Bring your charge to my quarters.”
Geldar’s head dipped low.
The Hierarch left, the awed priests bowing as he passed.
Seth waited for Geldar to gesture to him.
“This way,” the Inquisitor said.
Seth followed him into the temple complex, holding his questions until they were far from the dome and the other knights.
“Why, Father?” Seth asked. “What does he want with me?”
It had to be his overdue punishment, come at last.
“Not here,” Geldar chided. “Not now.”
His eyes darted to the walls. They seemed too thick for spying, but Geldar would know best.
They made their way into the finer apartments, to the quarters reserved for his Holiness alone.
Attendants were removing his golden coat. The weighty scales clinked like coins as they carefully set it aside. The change did not diminish the man’s power or Seth’s rising dread. He took a knee and fixed his eyes on the floor.
The Hierarch waved away the attendants with a muttered blessing and washed his hands in a basin, sending the scent of laurel and rosemary through the room.
“You can lower your hood, Geldar. Are we not both in his service?”
A rustle told Seth that his mentor had obeyed. Seth would not tremble. He was not the boy he had been the first time he’d met the Hierarch, when he’d announced that Seth could live, but that he would train in Teshur, in the desert, far from Geldar and Ilium.
“You came early to the city,” the Hierarch said.
“I thought it best to show haste,” Geldar said, his tone even.
Seth held his breath.
“And did you find anything interesting in your time here?”
“Only an empty box guarded by a corrupt knight, and another, too vocal in her pride.”
“Now both are dead,” the Hierarch said. “I assigned the boy a simple duty. One to bring him honor. Bring a box to Versinae’s crypt and guard it.”
Geldar’s expression remained stony. “If I may ask, Your Holiness, did the Oracle request this duty for him?”
“You may ask, but I need not answer to the likes of you.”
Seth froze. He had been here before. Perhaps if he did not move, if he made himself a statue—as small as possible—the Hierarch would spare his life.
“I will send the boy with the Bishop. She has asked for him to join her cadre.”
Seth blinked, his fear forgotten. He could not have heard it correctly.
If it was true, would she regret it now? Would even the Bishop decide he could not be redeemed after the fire on the beach?
“This business began with him and the box,” the Hierarch said. “It is fitting that he see its end.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
Seth kept his eyes fixed on the heavy purple rug carpeting the floor of golden wood.
He had another chance. By Hyperion’s mercy, he had another chance.
The Hierarch turned to him.
“Tell me, Seth, do you continue your penance, that which the monks of Teshur set you to?”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
“Double it.” His voice was like a lash on Seth’s ears. “Your lack of control has forced another visit from Versinae’s prince, and there is little I hate more than that odious man.”
Seth nodded. “Gladly, Your Holiness. Thank you.”
“You may go.” The Hierarch waved them away. “Both of you.”
Outside, Geldar left his hood down. He walked ahead, turning back once to gesture for Seth to follow. They came to the courtyard where the knights drilled. Above, the sun’s disk hung high. Seth took comfort in it even as he cringed to remember the fire consuming the beach and the lives he’d taken. Geldar settled himself atop the steps to the colonnade and gestured for Seth to do the same.
“You are punishing yourself. I do not mean just the penance.”
“The Hierarch gave me a great responsibility. I failed. I failed again outside the walls—I lost control of the flames.”
“I know, my boy, but the Hierarch is another matter. Have you forgotten what I told you, that he was once an Inquisitor?”
Seth squinted, trying to discern what Father Geldar was trying to tell him. It was something that he could not state too directly. He’d questioned the Hierarch regarding the Oracle and Seth’s role in the mission.
“Father, why did the Hierarch choose me for this?”
Geldar gave him a sad smile, telling Seth that he would not like the answer.
“I suspect he chose the three of you to be rid of you, to let this mission remove you from the order.”
“He wouldn’t do that, would he?” Seth asked.
Hyperion was supposed to be merciful. Where was the mercy or forgiveness in such an act?
If it were true, then the Hierarch would sacrifice the Bishop, Lathan, and the others just to be rid of Seth, just to see him dead.
Send one cadre, the Oracle had commanded.
She hadn’t specified which cadre. The Hierarch had made that choice.
Seth had believed he’d had a chance, that he could grow beyond his failings. He saw now that he’d never had a chance at all.
“You are kind, my son,” Geldar said. “And good. But the world often does not honor that. This is why we have Inquisitors, to do what good people cannot.”
“You are good, Father.”
Geldar smiled weakly.
“No, no I am not.”
“I wish . . .” Seth stammered. “I wish you had not told me.”
“I know, my boy, but you had to know.”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t be there to protect you.”