“So it must be much more potent. Perhaps … ,” says Shara slowly. “Perhaps something from a monk from the Kovashta? Something you found written down in their vaults?”
Volka growls like he’s been struck.
“Are you so sure, Brother,” asks Vohannes, “that she’s your inferior?”
“And Wiclov?” asks Shara. “Will he participate? It was you who was running him, wasn’t it? You were the man who trapped the mhovost here and set it up as a guard dog.”
“What happened to Wiclov will seem like a blessing in comparison to what happens to you,” snaps Volka. “Wiclov, he was … He was a believer. A true Kolkashtani. But once he led you to the Seat of the World, and once you realized how I had found the Warehouse of stolen items, I could not forgive him.”
“What did you do?” asks Shara.
Volka shrugs. “I had to find out if the Butterfly’s Bell really worked somehow. I had never seen it performed. Wiclov made … a tolerable subject. I reminded myself—we are but instruments in the hands of the Divine. I did not mind you chasing after Wiclov. You obviously had no idea I was even here, for I’d laid all my plans years before you ever arrived.”
“Though I startled you, didn’t I?” says Shara. “When I arrived, you thought you had to hurry—so you attacked Vohannes’s house to try and force him to give you what you needed.”
“The arrival of the great-granddaughter of the Kaj would upset any true Continental,” says Volka. “And I knew who you were.” Another flash of teeth as brown as old wood. “I had stared at portraits of the Kaj for hours, days, thinking of him, hating him, wishing I could have been there to end his life, stop history from bringing us here. … And the second I saw you—saw your eyes, your nose, your mouth—I saw the past come to life. I knew you were his kin. From there, it was easy to find out who you were, and a simple thing to tell my countrymen.”
“Wait. … You blew my cover?” She glances at Vohannes, who stares at the two of them, uncomprehending.
“Yet they did not rise up against you, nor did they hang you in the streets as I expected,” says Volka. “They praised you for killing Urav, one of Kolkan’s sacred children. I honestly cannot tell if you are actually talented, or if your inopportune appearances are all coincidence. Like today. Did you actually follow us to the real Votrov estate, or did you simply stumble into it?”
“Oh,” says Shara. “You were in the house, weren’t you? When Sigrud and I traveled to Old Bulikov. You saw us.”
“I wouldn’t even be performing this rite now if things had gone as I intended,” says Volka. “But again, your intrusion forces us to make haste. You went to the true Bulikov. You saw the waiting ships. So, rather arbitrarily, unfortunately, the new age will have to begin today.”
“Will you destroy the city now, with your warships?” asks Shara. “Why do you need flying warships at all, if you’re freeing a Divinity? Can’t Kolkan just point a finger at us and turn us into stone?”
“Why would we bother with the city?” Volka says. “It’s wiser to divide and conquer. Saypur is wed to the sea—its strength lies in ships. Our vessels of the air will race directly to Saypur itself and shell its harbors and shipyards before your blasphemous nation ever realizes what is happening. We wished for more ships, but I’ve no doubt that even with only six ships, we’ll still outmatch any Saypuri weaponry. For all its might, Saypur could never expect an attack from the air. We will rain down fire from the clouds. We will shower destruction from the sky like angels. We will castrate your vile country, as it deserves.”
Irrationally, this revelation horrifies her more than the resurgence of any Divinity. Six six-inchers a ship, probably, she thinks rapidly. Thirty-six cannons total. They could shred our infrastructure and cripple Saypur’s navy for months, even years, in a single day. We’d be fighting with both hands tied behind our backs.
“This is good, you know,” says Volka. “This is right. The world is our crucible. And with each burn, we are shaped. You will know pain. Both of you will know pain. You must. And scourged of flesh, stripped of sin, some part of you, some shred of bone, might just be saved, and found worthy in his eyes.” He takes a breath. “And he will see you both. How pleased with me he’ll be—handing over not only one of the most monstrous betrayers of the old ways, but also the very child of the man who killed the gods.”