Chapter Fifty-One

  Whatever Cenna could say about Dominic, the truth was that despite his temper, the man did have a brain between his ears, and he did sometimes use it. The sour, even threatening frown that Cenna thought had frozen into position, melted away like snow in a spring thaw.

  Once upon a time the spearman would have thought the foul tempered Cardinal’s mood was improving. In reality though, it was just a mask, a diplomatic cover to hide the true disposition just beneath the surface.

  Cenna, under no such obligations and having no such inclinations, nor the temperament for it even if he wished to, remained nonchalant. The bodies would be recovered eventually, but ideally by then they’d already be on their way home. ‘If Raymond had come along, we wouldn’t be in this position. If Raymond had gone out instead, we could have had a rational appraisal of this ‘demon god’. Even Yvon or Maximillian or Berenice… even…’ He paused his thoughts and searched for the worst he could find, next to Dominic, and recalled the name of the Demon Emperor… ‘Jaldabaoth would have been better suited to this.’ Cenna’s displeasure with his escort duty was growing by the hour.

  It grew at the gates, which far from being rundown and drab from lack of maintenance before, were now polished to a shine.

  It grew, in the streets, where the population, still higher than it should have been, at least no longer moved with the listlessness of a people who knew they were going to die.

  Instead they moved with the kind of swaggering confidence of people who were certain that they had a future, even the common whores who plied their trade near taverns and inns, raised their voices, squared their shoulders, and spoke with confidence to those who came to inquire about their services.

  Beggars on the street, while still as plentiful as before, had somewhat better filled bellies, though they were not at what Cenna would call ‘full health’ it was clear that whatever rations were set aside by the temples for the poor, had increased.

  “They’re doing better.” Cenna put the statement out there and watched Dominic out of the corner of his eye to assess the man’s mental state.

  “They’re still under the rule of a quarterbreed, and worse, they consort with demons.” Dominic hissed the final word, but to Cenna’s relief he had the sense to say nothing too loudly where it might be heard even amidst the hustle and bustle of the busy street filled with pedestrians, horses, and carriages.

  “Quarterbreed, halfbreed, you never cease to amaze me.” Cenna said through gritted teeth. “Just how much nonhuman blood will you forgive?”

  “All of it, when it is spilled on the ground.” Dominic answered with icy hate, “But in a living body? A tenth generation removed.”

  It was a chilling sort of answer for a lot of reasons. “Weren’t you raised by an elf?” Cenna asked, “Didn’t I hear that somewhere?” He had, and he knew it, though it was an exaggeration, it bore more than a kernel of truth.

  “I had one as my minder, tutor, teacher… and now he is a servant in my house, but no he is not my father. Don’t be vulgar, Cenna.” Dominic rebuked the Black Scripture Captain, “That’s the trouble with you Black Scriptures, you have power, but no manners and too little faith.”

  Cenna snorted, “I’m a Godkin, it would be strange for me to worship my own ancestors, I think. Besides, if we want to talk about manners, maybe not attacking a peaceful envoy is more polite than doing… well… that. Don’t attack people who come in peace, is what I’m saying.” Never much one for speeches or arguments that did not involve brewery quality, he knew his retort lacked the same bite or quality as Dominic’s, but between the two of them, Cenna’s skin was far thicker, so where his own face was placid, Dominic’s turned red.

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  “I should have brought someone from the Holocaust Scripture.” Dominic complained. “They can mind their tongues.”

  Cenna shrugged, “They’re busy being used as target practice by the elves. You all put your fingers into too many pies at once, so many you often don’t even know which one is too hot and you get burned. Just like what happened with the Sunlight Scripture. Have any of those turned up yet? A piece here, a piece there? Anything?” He taunted, though his face was somber during it, the loss of a scripture was a disaster worse than losing an army in some ways. New soldiers could be trained as needed, but scripture members were elites, and exceptional people could not be grown like crops.

  “What’s your point, Cenna?” Dominic snapped as the castle loomed larger and the commoners all but vanished out of sight save for riding on top of carriages or in richly dressed clothing in the most expensive shops.

  “That you’re going to get burned if you go too far here. Keep calm and we can walk out, they’re already well within their rights to arrest us both. They just don’t know it yet. Don’t give them a reason.” Cenna whispered as they reached the base of the palace gate and dismounted their horses to approach on foot.

  Dominic didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. Cenna knew without a doubt that whether or not the Cardinal listened to his advice or not, would be revealed by his own actions when standing before the Draconic Queen herself.

  “Your Majesty, Cardinal Dominic has arrived.” The guard said from his kneeling position a few paces away from the throne. His arm across his knee and his steel helmet removed, his uncovered head bowed forward so that he faced the floor, he was even in submission, a formidable looking figure with broad shoulders and thick, powerful arms.

  Yet even knowing she had men like this around her, the Queen had to wonder, ‘Can they handle the single guard Dominic brought with him? Or even Dominic himself? Torald was on the cusp of adamantite when compared with Cerebrate, and yet the spearman killed Cerebrate like he was nothing… not to mention what happened on the road.’ Around the room there were at least a dozen guards, not to mention nobles who were trained from birth in the sword.

  And yet?

  ‘He’s probably a Godkin, and nothing less than a god, or a monster, or another godkin can handle one of those. Perhaps my wild magic…?’ Queen Draudillon weighed her options as the seconds ticked past. “Send Dominic’s bodyguard for ‘refreshments’ and allow the Cardinal to come in alone, or to join his escort for the same until other business is conducted.”

  “I will carry word to them at once.” The soldier vowed and when the blonde monarch gave her approving nod, he rose to his feet and backed away from the throne.

  The Queen didn’t even realize that she was holding her breath until the door closed with a heavy thud and she exhaled at last. “Vermillion,” she said with a glance toward her advisor, “what do you think?”

  “I think I wish your husband to be was here.” The balding, spindly advisor said with a half bow in her direction. “But I’m not as worried as Your Majesty. This is a diplomatic meeting only, fanatical or not, to attack Your Majesty in her throne room would be utter madness.”

  Queen Draudillon kept her face carefully neutral, her advisor did not yet know about the attack on the men-at-arms and the attempted murder of Sir Torald. Nobody knew but she.

  ‘And I can’t say anything either, lest I provoke the very wrath I want to avoid… it’s not fair! We survived the beastmen, we’re ready to bounce back and now I have to navigate a group of fanatics to avoid a war after a war…’ She pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger and blew a puff of air out of her nostrils in frustration.

  “You know, Vermillion,” she said and held out her hand with her finger spread open, a servant moved quickly to place a silver cup there and quickly poured wine into it while the Queen spoke, “I often wonder why anybody rebels against monarchs. Is there a more frustrating job than our own? The Kingdom lurches from crisis to crisis like a drunken soldier between taverns.”

  “I suppose, Majesty, but it has to be that way. If a Kingdom is not in some kind of a crisis, does it even really exist?” His lips turned up into a tiny smile that spread quickly to the Queen.

  As she began to laugh, so too did the rest of the court, and it became so loud that all the way down the hall and down the stairs into an area where food and wine were laid out by beautiful courtesans of the Queen’s own selection for their skill in relaxing the reluctant, Dominic and Cenna could hear the noise.

  They turned their heads toward it just as a buxom woman with ink dark hair loomed close to the Cardinal, and whatever words of complaint he might have had, were utterly forgotten… for once.