“I know lots of things, little Crow,” he said calmly. “You’ll have to be m—”
She moved in a blur, across the space between them in a blinking. He hissed as she seized his throat, pressed her blade to his jugular.
“Get that bloody pigsticker off my neck,” the old man demanded.
“Answer me!”
Mercurio tapped his own blade—which he’d drawn as he dropped his goldwine—against Mia’s femoral artery.
“One good twitch and you’ll be bled out in moments,” he said.
“That makes two of us.”
“I gave you that knife,” he said, swallowing against the gravebone blade.
“No, Mister Kindly gave it to me.”
Mercurio eyed the not-cat now coalescing on Mia’s shoulder.
“… you just gave it back, old man…”
“Still. Never thought I’d find it against my own throat, little Crow.”
“I never thought you’d give me a reason,” the girl said.
“And what would that be?”
“They killed my father, Mercurio,” she said, voice trembling. “Or as good as. They handed him over to Scaeva and let him hang!”
“Who did?” the old man scowled, glancing over Mia’s shoulder at the blonde.
“The Ministry!” Mia spat. “Drusilla, Cassius, the rest of them. My father and Antonius were captured in the middle of a camp of ten thousand men. Who could do that if not a Blade of Niah?”
“That makes no blo—”
“Did you know?”
The old man looked at his pupil, saw no fear of the blade in his hand. No fear of dying reflected in her eyes. Only rage.
“Six years, I trained you for the Church’s trials,” he said quietly. “Why in the Black Mother’s name would I do that, if I knew the Church helped Scaeva murder your da?”
“Well, why would the Church train me at all if they helped kill him, Mercurio?”
“That’s what I mean about this not making sense, Mia. Think on it.”
Mia hands trembled on her stiletto, and she stared into his eyes. He could see the Blade in her, the killer they carved from the girl he’d given them. He knew that was what she’d become, sending her there. He knew the mark it would leave. You don’t gift someone to the Maw without gifting a piece of yourself, also. But beneath, he could still see her. The waif he’d saved from the Godsgrave streets. The girl he’d sheltered beneath his roof, taught everything he knew. The girl who, even after she failed, he’d still thought of as his kin.
“I’d never hurt you, little Crow. You know that. On my life, I swear it.”
She stared a moment longer. The killer she’d become warring with the girl she’d been. And slowly, ever so slowly, Mia withdrew the knife. Mercurio lifted his blade away from her leg, slipped it back into his armrest, and leaned back in his chair.
“You want to tell me what all this is about?” he asked.
The blond girl produced a book from beneath her cloak, placed it on the desk before him. It was black. Leather. Unadorned.
“The fuck’s this?” he asked.
“The Red Church ledger,” Blondie replied.
His eyes grew wide. Suddenly, it made sense. Suddenly …
“I recognize you now,” he breathed. “We met at the Church, when I came to get Mia. You’re Torvar’s girl. You’re Ashlinn fucking J?rnheim.”
“Well, my middle name’s actually Frija, but—”
“We’ve been hunting you for eight bloody months!” Mercurio turned to Mia, voice rising. “Have you taken complete leave of your senses? Thanks to this traitor and her da, most of our Blades are in the fucking ground!”
Ashlinn shrugged. “Live by the sword…”
“It was a miracle they never got me!”
“Bullshit,” the girl replied. “When the Luminatii purged Godsgrave, they never kicked in the door of your little Curio Shop, did they?”
“O, and why’s that, pray tell?” the old man growled.
Ashlinn looked toward Mia. Back to the red-faced bishop.
“Because I didn’t want her hurt.”
Silence fell in the room, Mia looking anywhere but into Ashlinn’s eyes. After a long, uncomfortable quiet, she turned to the ledger, flipping through the pages until she found a name listed among the many patrons and their payments. A name written in a bold flowing script, stark black against the yellowing parchment.
Julius Scaeva.
“You knew, didn’t you?” Mia asked. “The Ministry would have to tell bishops who can and can’t be touched, if only to avoid breaches of Sanctity.”
“Of course I knew,” the old man snapped. “They told me as soon as they made me bishop. Why the ’byss do you think I haven’t sent one of my Blades to cut the bastard’s throat? Standing for a fourth term as consul? He’s a fucking king in all but name. And I’ve said so all along, remember?”
Mia tapped the entry with her finger.
“Ten thousand silver priests,” she said. “Sent to the Church by Scaeva himself, dated three turns after my father’s execution. Paid by the man who stood to gain the most from the rebellion’s failure. And the name of my father’s right-hand man is carved at Niah’s feet in the Hall of Eulogies. Explain that to me, Mercurio.”
The old man stroked his chin with a scowl.
Looked down at the names and numbers, blurring in the dim light.
It couldn’t be …
Of course he knew Scaeva was secretly paying the Church. Truth told, it made sense for people who could afford the cost to be stuffing Niah’s coffers. That was one of the beauties of Sanctity, you see—gift the Church enough money to be considered a patron, you’d be protected under the Red Promise. The King of Vaan had been doing it for years. Stroke of genius, really. Niah’s faithful could get paid without lifting a finger.*
Of course, Scaeva went further than just a retainer—he’d used the Church to rid himself of a dozen thorns in his side. But Mercurio had never suspected the Church had been involved with the end of the Kingmakers. Everything he’d ever heard led him to believe Corvere and Antonius had been betrayed by one of their own men.
Could it be…?
“The Red Church captured my father,” Mia said, her voice thick with pain. “Handed him over to the Senate. They as good as murdered him themselves.”
Mister Kindly tilted his head, purring soft.
“… what I do not understand, is why scaeva had remus attack the mountain, if scaeva already has the church in his pocket…?”
“… AS IF THAT IS THE ONLY THING YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND…”
“… hush now, child, the adults are talking…”
“Remus attacked the Mountain without Scaeva’s consent,” Ashlinn said.
“Bullshit.” Mercurio turned on the Vaanian girl with a scowl. “Remus didn’t take a squirt without asking Scaeva’s permission first. The Senate, the Luminatii, and Aa’s Church are the three pillars of the whole fucking Republic, girl.”
“Don’t call me girl, you crusty old prick,” Ashlinn snapped. “My father was the one in league with Remus, remember? The justicus hated Scaeva’s guts. O, aye, he took the consul’s orders, but Remus was one of Aa’s faithful, just like Duomo. Using the Red Church for his dirty work made Scaeva a heretic in Remus’s eyes. And shutting down the Church would’ve cut Scaeva’s access to his pack of hired murderers.”