Crown of Shadows - C. S. Friedman [40]
“Thank God for it?” He raised an eyebrow. “That code seems to be our greatest impediment right now.”
“Their progenitor also forbids the Iezu from killing humans, at least directly. Which is the only reason you and I are still alive.”
“You said they have no power but illusion. Surely that—” “
“How little work would it take to make me stay out past dawn, believing that the sun hadn’t yet begun to rise? How little work to arrange an accident for you, how small an illusion to make you misjudge the edge of a pier or a cliff, or mistake the flow of traffic in the streets? No man can stay on his guard against such tricks forever, Reverend Vryce. No, if Calesta meant to kill us, then we would both have died long ago. As it is, I’m sure he’s planned something far more ... unpleasant.”
He turned away again, and gazed out the window. Perhaps he was studying the flow of fae in the streets below, analyzing it for data. Perhaps he was only thinking.
“He’s attacking the Church,” Damien said quietly.
“I thought he might,” he said, without turning back. “Tell me the details.”
“Outbursts of violence all over town. Bands of the faithful desecrating pagan shrines, beating priests, destroying property. One group was just about to lynch a priestess for crimes against the One God when the police arrived, just in time. And such outbursts are more and more frequent. The Patriarch himself had to step in the last time, and even so there was a lot of damage done.” He put the empty bottle down on the table again and wiped his mouth with a shirt sleeve. “The Temple of Bakshi is suing the Church for half a million in damages to person and property. If they win....”
“Then there’ 11 be more to follow.”
He snorted. “That goes without saying, doesn’t it?”
The Hunter nodded slowly. “He’s subtle, our enemy, and all too clever. Multiple lawsuits could bring the Church to its knees faster than any direct Working. And the public humiliation involved would certainly affect the fae, weakening the Church’s effect on local currents. Negating the very power which the Church was designed to wield. And after Jaggonath, others will follow. Until such momentum is gained that it no longer requires his direct interference.”
He turned back to face Damien again; his silver eyes were blazing. “He means to destroy my greatest work. Morally, socially, financially ... if that lawsuit goes through, then he’s already won the first battle. How many more campaigns has he set in motion, which will remain secret until their culmination? Nine hundred years, Vryce! You perceive that I abandoned it years ago, but I tell you the Church is still my passion. My child. Nine hundred years of carefully crafted development, and this demonic filth will send it all spiraling down into Hell in a single generation!”
“There has to be a way to stop it. There has to be a way to nullify the effect—”
“We must kill him,” Tarrant interrupted. “There is no other way.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” His voice was tight with frustration. “But there has to be a way.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Their progenitor can kill them. So obviously the means exists. And I got the distinct impression that whatever technique he or she uses, the Iezu would be helpless to fight back.”
“You think he could be convinced to help us?”
“To kill his own creations? Not likely. But there might be others who are privy to his secrets.”
“Such as?”
“Maybe demons. Some other class, whom we can still coerce by simple means. Or maybe even adepts. Someone close to the Iezu, who might invite their confidence.” He paused. “Maybe Ciani.”
Ciani. Even after two years the memory was sharp and painful. Ciani of the quick wit and ready laughter, whom he had loved. Ciani the adept, whom a Iezu had saved. Ciani the loremaster, who valued knowledge more than any mere love affair and had gone to live among