Saithorthepyro
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Chapter 25 - Steel III
🕑 Added 2025-03-05 16:00:13 +0000 UTCBishop Derrick’s face shifted as I asked my question, the lines on her face shifting about as she leaned back in her chair.
She nodded reluctantly. “I imagined it would come up this evening. Voltar seemed eager to pick our brains over the matter.”
“Voltar wants the murderer found,” I said. “I don’t think he overly cares for such things as secrets when it means catching the killer before they strike. Oh, he’ll keep his share of them, and he’ll be mum to anyone beyond what is necessary for solving the crimes. But he’s not going to let that stand between him and catching your little traitor.”
“Our potential traitor,” she corrected me. “There’s no concrete evidence that they are part of the program.”
“Plenty of circumstantial evidence,” I said. “Are you confident enough in that prediction to make a wager over it?”
“I wager for fun,” she said. “But no, I wouldn’t wager. It’s not easy thinking of betrayal, not when you know all the people involved.”
No, it wasn’t, although I had the benefit of that lesson thrice over by now. You just needed to acknowledge that no matter how close someone might be now, in the future they could, and probably would always turn on you. Didn’t matter if it was pressure or price, every relationship had it’s breaking point.
“I imagine Gregory Montague already told you some,” she said. “He confirmed as much that he’d said quite a bit when Gallaspie tried browbeating him.”
“I imagine Bishop Gallaspie wasn’t too happy,” I said.
That relationship had seemed strained even before Gregory had started spilling secrets to me. After, I couldn’t imagine it had improved as a result of that.
“He wasn’t,” Derrick admitted. “Although young Montague was quite adroit at fending off the barbs as per usual. I admire that, most are nowhere near as unflappable as he in the face of a hostile Matthew.”
Well, if Derrick couldn’t pick up on the potentially murderous plans Gregory had about Bishop Gallaspie, I was hardly going to tip her off.
“He gave me a very broad overview,” I said. “Just the general idea of the program. Probably all that you and Bishop Gallaspie told him.”
“Yes,” she said, a faint smile on her face. “Matthew was not thrilled at the idea of having someone from outside forced on us because Tarver’s church wanted one of their own involved. He only ended up agreeing because we wanted to get to the scene of the crime before any major Imperial authorities and Tarver’s church would refuse us entry if we cut them out of the investigations entirely.”
“And Gregory Montague is the one they ended up at,” I deadpanned. “Truly a choice blessed by Tarver himself.”
She smiled just a little. “What a strange statement, given what I’ve heard. I thought you’d be a little more pleasant regarding Songsinger Montague.”
The desire to know exactly what she’d heard in that regard warred with not wanting to hear what assuredly insane and wrong rumours were floating around about me and Gregory. Something else caught my attention as well.
“Songsinger?” I repeated. “This is a joke. That’s not his actual title inside the church.”
“I assure you it is,” she assured me solemnly.
“They’re bards,” I said. “They have to have a better understanding of names that that.”
“Some do. Some are the most unimaginative namers of things in existence, and some of them just invent whatever they think makes a song or story better. And I think the worst of them all is Tarver himself.”
I was vaguely aware of a strange sound, just on the edge of hearing that might have been the strings on a violin breaking.
“Oh hush,” she said, and to me mounting horror I realized she wasn’t talking to me. “The Cave of Eternal Torment was a terrible name, even if it was accurate.”
“Anyway,” I said before I nearly was on the sidelines of another case of inter-deity squabbling to rival Gallaspie’s bad-mouthing dead fellow priests earlier today. “We’re a little afield from what we were going to talk about. The program.”
“The program,” she agreed. “I was introduced to the program when it was just an idea. I wasn’t there when it was first devised, or even when the five churches who initially decided to do this joined together.”
“Those five being which ones?” I asked.
“I don’t think that’s relevant, do you?” she responded, and I shook my head.
“Depending on how far back this occurred, this could be a very long con run by someone. Setting this in motion to create the right conditions could have been part of their plan all along.”
Alberta Vesper, Alice Skall, and Melissa’s either hints or talks with me about this deal being offered indicated it wasn’t. I wanted Derrick convinced to share as much as she could as opposed to only what was necessary. And it was entirely possible the killings were unrelated to the deal.
Practically impossible, but they existed.
Derrick eyed me suspiciously. “No offense, Miss Harrow, but you don’t have the same amount of trust as Voltar does not to use this down the line. Especially if one feels slighted by any of the deities involved.”
“Implying I would?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. “Halspus stands out, but he doesn’t have a Diabolist. Or so you claim. Semiv is the other one I can think of, I’ve never gotten along amazingly with the Watch, but they are probably in this for the same reason as Halspus. Watching and monitoring, just a little closer than normal. I doubt his followers would stumble upon this idea themselves. You’ve implicitly set Zaviel aside from this as well, so-”
“Semiv is one of the initial five,” she said, cutting me off and my voice faltered.
“The deity of the Watch and his followers were some of the first backers of this?” I asked incredulously. “You jest.”
“I don’t,” she replied. “I’m sure you think of Semiv as simply a representation of the Watch, but he is justice, the peace, and order. The Watch’s personal animosity towards Infernals is because it’s what the law has said, in their view. Semiv is not the Watch, and the same for the reverse. Everyone in their minds deserves justice and order. The Hells among them. And well, he is the Warding Watcher. Keeping an eye on the Hells is something his followers prefer as opposed to simply walling us off as best as possible like the followers of Halspus attempt to.”
“The other four?” I prompted.
“Tildae, Lareran, Gallock, and Tarver,” she said without hesitation, and my eyes narrowed.
Not Baltaren, and I thought the god of night would be such a good fit for this. Lareran made sense in the regard, probably looking for their own angle. But healing and purification? Bards? The Arts? Not Ixilliae, whose entire domain was magic in all of its forms?
“That makes no sense,” I said gruffly. “Please don’t lie so obviously.”
“I’m not,” she said, looking a mite offended. “It’s not like you don’t lack resources to do a little research into why followers of those deities would support this. And it started with just them but grew as they realized there would be no hiding from certain groups. They’d need more resources, more support, and slowly more joined. Some saw it as a way to improve the standing of their deities. Some saw it as something to ward off a future threat. I can’t speak to everyone’s motivations.”
Even if Derrick didn’t, it wasn’t hard to make some educated guesses. Two of our victims belonged to that group, unless she’d been lying when at those crime scenes. Starken and Malata had been in service to a not terribly popular deity and a recent transplant.
“And one of those certain groups they couldn’t hide from would be Halspus?”
She nodded.
“Her Majesty is backed by two deities,” she said. “As I’m sure you are aware. Maldeura and Halspus. The Sun and War. Light and Loyalty. One is more active along the outskirts of the empire, along with her clerics, aiding the Imperial army in its campaigns. The other stays at home, the tender to keep home protected.”
To keep the home well-lit with bonfires of dead Infernals, more than protected, but I let that go without comment.
“One of them getting involved was inevitable,” Derrick continued. “Some thought we could have kept it secret longer, but I’m glad their voices hadn’t won out when we made our decision. Priests of Halspus stumbling upon devotees of other deities practicing diabolism would have been one of the worst possible outcomes.”
“Competitions over how many deities they could burn followers of at the same time?” I said drily, and she gave me a reproachful look.
“Yes, because the idea of a diabolic conspiracy infiltrating the city is what they are deathly afraid of,” she said. “They already are afraid after the first one nearly took over the city, to the point that they’ve become more suspicious of anyone and anything. This latest incident with the shapechanger did not help.”
My hold on the cup of coffee as she spoke did not tighten, just grew a little deeper in intensity. Relax. Tensions out.
“Did you just blame Infernals for the church of Halspus being suspicious of you all?” I said as lightly as I could manage.
“No,” she replied sharply. “I blame a specific group for starting a diabolic conspiracy theory to take over the city and get close enough that ever since then Halspus’ followers have been more on guard than ever in case anything like it ever happens again.”
Oh, was the rest of the city upset that it was experiencing some of what we’d suffered in the Quarter? Not even in the Quarter, I’d hardly pretend other groups had it well-off, the few dwarves that remained the latest addition to that last. But, last I checked, Derrick didn’t look like she belonged to any of them, and for now I’d go with her being of pure Anglean stock.
“You don’t understand how badly that rattled them,” she continued. “They thought they’d finally made sure nothing could ever crawl out of the hells again. What was left on this plane, that was all the Hells could ever have. And then out of where they thought they had control, devils from the hell trying to take over the city.”
“They supported this because devils got in the city,” I deadpanned. “I don’t want to spoil their idea of what this city is like, but Versalicci was hardly the first person to bring devils into the city.”
“Hardly,” she agreed. “But a lot of those were summoned outside the city and brought in later, allowed by the imperial government, or were small in scale. The Black Flame’s devils were in numbers and power far beyond any since Her Most Profane Majesty’s downfall. Even worse, they’d been summoned on to the mortal plane for years without Halspus’ clergy having the slightest inkling of their presence.”
“Because they had an opponent who could think,” I said bluntly. “My other opinions on him aside, Versalicci has never lacked for brains, and he went for ones that could be easily controlled, directed, and individually weak enough that they would be harder to find. His strategy relied on using proxies who didn’t know of each other outside of the smallest possible groups, he kept direct interaction with Infernal handlers at a minimum, and successfully made it look like it was just an uppity little crime lord.”
“I think you’ve successfully made the case for why they were so worried,” Derrick said. “If he’d gotten a little further?”
I was about to point out tha Gio, money-grubbing piece of scum he is, would never do such a thing, but halted my tongue. Most didn’t have a view of Gio from that close. Almost none of what his true motivations were, so I could perhaps be a little more charitable.
“When put like that, I’m surprised they tolerate this existing,” I pointed out.
“More than you think,” she said. “Matthew talks a little about the internals. Mostly complaining, but there’s been dissension about a few topics. Building a wall instead of keeping an eye on the Hells. About how some things the Church has pushed with the Queen’s aid may be pushing more to Diabolism than it prevents.”
“Well isn’t that nice,” I said. “How were you going to handle her eventually finding out about this anyway?”
“Above my head, thankfully,” Derrick said. “I imagine there’s going to be some strips torn out of everyone involved. Ah well.”
“So, in theory Gallaspie is here to keep an eye on things and make sure everything is nice and safe and won’t accidentally result in a giant rampaging devil that makes everyone doubt those big donations Halspus church gets,” I said.
Derrick shook her head. “I understand your apathy, but treating Matthew like he’s some pretender to his faith is doing him a disservice. I may disagree with him on many things, but I’ve never doubted his genuine devotion to the service of Halpsus. Or the great things he has done, the people he has helped, the efforts he has made to aid those in genuine need-”
“-as long as they lack horns on their head and hooves on their feet,” I finished for her, earning a sigh.
“I don’t begrudge your dislike for him,” she told me. “He already can be difficult to work with, I can’t imagine how much worse it would be if I was an Infernal. I am saying not to discount his faith, or think him some corrupt charlatan pretending. I would think earlier today would have shown he’s not to be trifled with.”
“Powerful as he might be, I doubt he could survive a bullet between his eyes,” I muttered as I tested the coffee’s taste with my tongue.
“You’ve given that some thought?” she asked, then chuckled as I recoiled back from the taste of the brew. Hells, what had she put in this? I’d had coffee before, strong coffee, but the little taste I’d taken felt like a sledgehammer to my head.
“I tend to when someone makes it clear they’ll be a thread,” I said, driving the urge to cough down. “When someone stares in your eyes and it’s clear only circumstance prevents them from killing you in that moment? It’s only natural to think of a way to end that threat. Or circumvent it into its own self-inflicted ending.”
“Not to make peace with?” Bishop Derrick mused.
“If it doesn’t do more than growl and bare its fangs, sure,” I said. “I am fully aware of the fact that my being a contractor for Imperial Intelligence is what is keeping my head on my shoulders and my soul out of a spike. A person like that only thinks about threats and when to take their heads off.”
“I have to disagree, for we are much alike, me and Matthew,” she said, and I snorted in response.
“You disagree?”
“I doubt I’d be having a private conversation of any kind with Bishop Gallapsie,” I said. “A shouting match perhaps?”
“That’s true, but only because you represent what he is set against, and not what I am,” Derrick said. “We’re both trusted by our respective churchs to be swords against what are the greatest threats against our deities' teaching. Halspus opposes the devils who swarmed from the underworld, swallowing the suns and reigning in a thousand nights of abyssal terror. Zaviel opposes those who deny their final rest, and denies others their final rest, who seizes the souls of those who have passed and exploits them for their own gain. Or those who desire to prevent the natural order of things. We both serve the same purpose. Although he is more counterbalance than I am.”
“Counter-balance?” I asked, already sure what she meant, but if she was willing to be open, I’d bite.
“Our third ‘bishop’,” she said. “As supportive of this as Matthew opposes it. One of the original proponents, and fiercely in favor of it. I was invited as a voice between the two. A peacemaker if you will. Well-respected, I’ve spent my years since I assured my own death rubbing elbows with the other priesthoods, doing my best to keep their relations with Zaviel strong as we fade further from relevance.”
I raised my eyebrow, and she gave me a wan smile.
“Oh we’re still important,” she said. “As long as people care about those who passed before, their friends and family who have departed the mortal realm, we’ll be important. But necromancy is chained, the most egregious abuses of the dead and their souls after life shackles, and we are prevented from doing anything about the few exceptions. In Anglea, you don’t worry about some Necromancer creeping into the village cemetery in the dead of night and using the dead for their profane practices. Honouring ones dead is still important, but the need to protect the dead fades further and further as those that exploited them fade further away. So we do what we can to make sure our voice is still heard, and people do not forget. If helping in this way is one, then it is. We had multiple volunteers for this program, and four of our clerics have joined.”
“Multiple Diabolists per church?” I asked.
“When possible,” she replied. “Some of those who volunteered, well no one else was willing to join them from among their fellow clerics.”
Starken and Malata had been two of those. That made Father Reginald the only outlier, and a dangerous one at that since another diabolist was in the same church as him. Luck that she’d been out when the killer struck, or happenchance?
“You’ve already told the other solitary Diabolists to be more careful?” I said. “Ideally we’d round them all up, at least until this mess is over.”
It would concentrate our suspect pool, and make sure at least one killer would be much more cautious about killing anyone else. The roving Black Flame and any other Diabolists who’d taken this deal wouldn’t be under watch, but it would be harder once all the Diabolists were guarded.
Bishop Derrick looked slightly embarrassed, and my heart fell.
“No,” I said. “Let me guess? They all think they can fight the killer off?”
“No,” she said. “Well, some, yes, but they aren’t entirely wrong in thinking that there are more than enough resources to keep them safe separate. No, there are…other concerns.”
Other concerns besides trying to protect these people, now what in the Hells could that be? I had my guess.
“They cannot be so worried about this getting out,” I said, “that they’re willing to keep things like this.”
“Unfortunately, both Matthew and the third member of the council disagree,” Derrick said. “And so do our superiors, so a bit of a moot point.”
“The third bishop, or whatever title they might hold. The one who created this program and is pushing it the hardest? And whose name you’ve not mentioned?”
She nodded. “They’ve made it very clear as well they want their identity preserved as long as possible.”
I drummed my fingers on the edge of the chair, stopping at the slightly irritated glance she sent my way. Long nails had left their marks in the wood.
“That’s a bit of an issue,” I said. “You don’t need to be Voltar to see why they’d be a suspect.”
“They don’t practice Diabolism themselves,” Derrick assured me. “Gallaspie would have thrown a fit if that was ever the case, and they never would have been allowed to oversee this.”
“They don’t practice diabolism that you know of,” I said. “Unless you have some foolproof method they were tested with?”
I treated myself to another sip of the coffee as we waited, and decided if I ever came here again I was bringing a tea brewing kit. Had the curse dulled her taste buds to the point that this overwhelming charcoal slurry was the only drink strong enough that she could feel the flavor?
“We do not,” she admitted. “Although by that logic, how would you trust anyone at all?”
“After a point you have to make some allowances,” I said. “Being that paranoid ends up being counterproductive, so you have to draw a line somewhere. Of course it’s hard to draw a line when you don’t even know the name of the person, much less any details outside of them being the one to push for this program. Which again, makes one less suspicious, not more.”
She frowned. “You seem quite deadset on this idea that these murders are all part of some grand design. I’m inclined to agree with Matthew and Mr. Voltar with this being someone inside the program deciding they can no longer tolerate what is being done. You disagree?”
I did, because of the Deal, but I had other reasons as well.
“I don’t want it to seem this is because I don’t like Bishop Gallaspie,” I said. “It’s entirely possible that’s a factor. However, the involvement of the Black Flame diabolists, whether they are working with Versalicci or not? If this renegade member of the program was upset by the diabolism being used, I doubt they’d turn to the Black Flame.”
“It could just be the Flame,” Derrick said.
“It’s entirely possible it is just the Black Flame,” I admitted, even though I placed even lower than their not being a rogue member of this ‘Program’. “However we then run into the same issue of Father Reginald trusting them enough to let them inside, the general lack of fighting from Starken. We saw the aftermath of their murder of Stonespeaker Malata. The first one, when no one knew anything with Father Reginald? I could maybe believe that occurred, but Starken would have fought back-”
I paused as I heard the sound of running, and a muffled yell from Bishop Derrick’s acolyte. Something crashed, shattering against the floor.
I stood up, hand reaching for my saber, only for an out of breath Forcreek to come crashing through, the acolyte of Halspus hitting the frame of the door and collapsing to the floor.
Joseph appeared seconds later, huffing a little himself.
“I’m sorry, Slayer,” he said, bowing to Bishop Derrick. “As soon as I opened the door he burst through and wouldn’t stop!”
Bishop Gallaspie’s assistant panted, glasses askew.
“Had to run,” he got out between gulps of air. “Streets were already filling up from what happened.”
“And?” I asked, trying to keep any impatience out of my voice. I had little of any patience for this one, but snapping at him wouldn’t get a faster answer.
“The killer struck again,” he said. “Even more publicly than the last and this time, they didn’t summon a devil who tried to hide.”
