Twenty-Four The High Cleric

TWENTY-FOUR

The High Cleric

SAMUEL

M r. Scieran, High Cleric, had a deep, rumbling voice that reminded me of dark-paneled studies, strong whiskey and pipesmoke. His accent was calculated and rounded, and his eyes were so green they were nearly black.

"Two ghiseau , one of which is a Stormsinger, and two amplified mages appear from the forest and beg shelter," he had observed, holding my gaze across his desk at the back of the infirmary.

I was too tired to be startled by his insight. "How do you know?"

"The Saint."

"She speaks to you?"

"In a way." His reply was not cold, but his tone made it clear that I would receive no more clarity on that front.

"You are a High Cleric," I observed, and he nodded. "Clearly, you know my brother and I were amplified, though imperfectly. Can you help us?"

The healer laced his long, fine fingers together on the top of the desk. "I am bound by my vows to protect and help anyone within these gates."

A knot of tension inside me loosened a fraction. "For that you have my utmost gratitude. But I meant in terms of our corruption."

Scieran's brows drew together. "Corruption?"

I searched for another Mereish word and came up short. "The Black Tide Cult attempted to amplify my brother and me. It worked, but… we were left broken too."

The other man sat straighter in his chair, a new caution coming into his eyes. "Then you were not amplified by the Ess Noti."

The name hit me like a fist. "No. Aeadine immigrants to Usti, Black Tide cultists, stole my brother and I and performed their rituals. The Ess Noti amplify mages?"

"You know of the Ess Noti but not what they do? What are you doing in Mere, Sooth?"

I thought quickly. Telling him anything closer to the truth was a risk, but would I ever find anyone with more answers than he had?

"My brother—my twin, you see there—was captured, and we came from Usti to rescue him. But not all went to plan and, yes, we are fleeing. Fleeing from soldiers and the Ess Noti. But we barely understand who they are."

"Was your brother taken to Maase?"

I hesitated, then nodded.

Scieran's expression darkened, though I sensed his ire was not directed towards me. "You must have moved quickly to get to him before the Ess Noti. They and that prison are intimately connected. In any case… You should not linger here. I may be bound to protect you, but that does not mean I can. Leave tomorrow."

My relief evaporated. "We will. I would not willingly bring danger to you. But if you could tell me all you know about the Ess Noti, I would be grateful. And if you could heal my brother and I of our corruption, I would be eternally indebted."

The last sentence felt bizarre on my tongue: too simple, too straightforward for the magnitude of what it meant.

"I cannot heal you." Scieran destroyed my hope of a future with a gentle, low voice. "But the Ess Noti could."

I felt the color leave my face. My eyes strayed to the door Mary had gone through, images of a future with her—of belonging and intimacy, of family—flickering from existence as quickly as they formed. In their place came the helplessness of the Dark Water, where my mind would eventually become trapped, and the enduring reality of our positions in the world.

"Then we are doomed," I said, my voice hollow and far more resigned than I felt.

"Ostchen is the heart of Mereish power and, naturally, the Ess Noti," Scieran said, still gentle. "If you were to pursue a cure, you would need to go there, to them. Though how you could do so while maintaining your freedom? I cannot say."

Another redirection, another vague hope. I felt no encouragement this time, only a dull, rootless certainty that continuing to pursue a cure would be the death of us.

"As to who the Ess Noti are, that I can tell you." Scieran drew a deep breath, seeming to shed the grimness of our previous topic. "A hundred years ago they were like us, servants to a saint—Saint Ilaad. But their zeal—and the offer of greater power—carried them too far. Now they terrorize any Mereish overseas. They hunt foreign spies and mages on Mereish soil and, I have heard, have begun to do so across the Winter Sea. They cannot hope to keep Mereish secrets from the world for much longer, but still they try. In the last year, their efforts have become even more… militant."

"Do you know why? What changed?"

Besides three ships crossing the Stormwall with bellies full of treasure and hundreds of new ghiseau spreading across the world.

Scieran shook his head. "I do not know. Powerful secular figures have begun to affiliate themselves with the Ess Noti, though. A shift was inevitable."

"Who?"

He shrugged. "Rich and powerful people. Politicians. Distant relations of the royal family."

That seemed to be all the detail he could give. "May I ask how you know all this?" I asked. "You are Capesh?"

"Yes." Scieran's smile was wan. He rapped his knuckles on the desk. "Sequestered in a monastery far from home, like many of my companions."

"You are a captive?"

"I would be if I tried to leave Mere," he said. "I was forcefully recruited from the Capesh Navy. My homeland, as I'm sure you know, has no Ghistwold. We rely on Mere to equip our ships, and as such… we are bound to one another. I served the Mereish Navy as a Cleric for twenty years, and this is my retirement. It is not a bad life."

I sat back in my chair, reflecting on his words. "If you tried to leave, the Ess Noti would hunt you down."

The other man nodded. "Now that you understand the circumstances, let me tell you again. You should leave tomorrow. Leave my monastery, and Mere."

"I intend to," I muttered, rubbing my forehead against a fresh headache—the cure from the previous monastery had either failed me, or I was simply doomed to have an aching head from here on out.

To have found safety, even for a short time, and know it was so brief? It left me close to breaking, not just for myself, but for my companions: for Ben, his arm in danger of festering, and Mary, so exhausted I feared she would not wake up this morning. Even Grant, who had complained little, despite finding himself plunged into the worst of circumstances.

I needed more answers. Quickly. "How connected are the Ess Noti with the Mereish Military? We encountered soldiers on the road, with mages."

"Officially, Ess Noti and the military—the army, the navy, the royal battalions—are not connected. But in practice, they are hopelessly entwined," Scieran said. "The Ess Noti has power only over mages. But given how much power the mages possess over others, whether by rank or value… the Ess Noti's grasp on everyone is tight."

"Do Mereish mages have reason to fear the Ess Noti?" I asked, recalling the terror in the Mereish Sooth's eyes. "What would they have done with my brother after they claimed him?"

The High Cleric looked past me, down the infirmary hall. "I only know rumors. They amplify mages regularly—that is well known, as is their success. They are always refining their methods, studying, pursuing new knowledge. I think, perhaps, we can both imagine what that might entail."

A sick feeling began to clench, low in my stomach. The Dark Water brushed at my ankles, and with a dreamer's rootless certainty I saw two images. One was Ben, locked in a chamber of stone, chained and haunted, his arms covered with scars and bleeding wounds. The second was of the talismans and lead balls Mary had stolen.

Talismans, I knew, were made with the blood of mages.

"Do the Ess Noti also pursue new technologies?" I asked, though I already sensed the answer. "Adjacent to magecraft. Talismans and the like."

Scieran shook his head. "That, I do not know. It has been years since I was in contact with the outside world, and I do not make a habit of interrogating fugitives who pass through my gates." He raised an amused brow. "Unless they are Aeadine, pretending to be Usti, and are, at most, days ahead of their pursuers."

My smile was brittle. "Understood. We will leave tomorrow."

"Thank you."