Sword of the Gods - Bruce R. Cordell [75]
The queen speared the pawnbroker with her gaze. “I just said so, didn’t I?”
The human said, “Pardon, Your Majesty.” His face reddened.
Arathane said, “The deputy commander suspected a few subordinates in particular. He explained he would have his most trustworthy lieutenant look into the matter, and determine if there really was a link between the monsters, the splinter Cabal faction, and the genasi he suspected.”
“Leheren? Was she the one the deputy commander put in charge?” said Demascus. “And did he tell you the names of the ones he suspected?”
“Was it Jett?” said Chant.
“He didn’t provide names; he seemed to have things well enough in hand. But that was before the Motherhouse was destroyed. I haven’t had any contact with the deputy commander since then. I’m afraid that he and many others may have lost their lives in the blaze.”
The stormsoul queen dropped her gaze, and the lights in her circlet dimmed. And was that a sheen of sorrow in her eyes? The queen said the deputy commander was a friend …
Riltana said, “Have you sent a team to investigate the ruins?” The woman seemed completely oblivious to the queen’s mournful attitude.
The queen wiped at her face. That tiny movement was the first time since they’d entered the bower that Arathane seemed the least bit vulnerable. Demascus brushed at his own face as if in unconscious sympathy.
“Officially,” said Arathane, completely in control of herself, “it’s a matter for Magnol’s civic forces. The Steward of Fire has dispatched a special detachment to the ruins to see what can be learned.”
“What’d they find?” asked Riltana.
“Nothing; at least nothing regarding monsters, secret factions, or … cults. Which means the investigation is officially over; it was put down as an accident. Survivors are being located, and Firestorm Cabal lodges in other parts of Akanûl are sending representatives.”
“But?” said Demascus, sensing that Arathane was holding something back.
She nodded and said, “More could possibly be found at the Motherhouse, if the searchers knew where to look. But I can’t ask Magnol to send his team back, because it would alert the stewards to my special knowledge of the Cabal. They’ve heard the same rumors Chant has, I can assure you, and I do not want to give them any further reason to believe I sometimes circumvent the Covenant of Stewardship to safeguard the realm.”
“We can investigate the Motherhouse ruins for you,” said Demascus, “if you tell us what to look for.”
“You’ve guessed my intent, which means you’re intuitive,” said the queen. “By the sound of it, you’ve successfully faced these oddly demonic creatures before, which means you’re also able to handle yourself in a fight.”
If only you knew, he thought. He said, “I am. We all are.”
“And Carmenere, will you accompany Demascus, Riltana, and Chant Morven, as my personal agent in this matter?”
“Hold on,” said Riltana, “this could be dangerous! Carmenere’s not—”
“Not what?” said the earthsoul, one eyebrow arched.
Arathane said, “Carmenere is a silverstar, and one of some ability. She goes with you.”
“Thank you, my queen,” said Carmenere, and smiled.
Chant clapped his hands and said, “Wonderful! We should go right away, before too much more time passes. What should we be looking for, Your Majesty?”
“In the basement levels, look for the sign of the Firestorm Cabal inscribed over the symbol of a cube. You’ll find it inscribed here and there, as if a decorative flourish. But each point where that dual sign is inscribed marks an entrance to the sublevel vault. I want you to enter and see if it was destroyed with the rest of the Motherhouse. If not, see what you can learn.”
Demascus watched the queen walk down the path, one elite bodyguard on each side. She was a vision, no doubt about it. But without her direct presence to focus on, his thoughts spiraled back to the question that had ambushed him earlier.
Will I find a link to my past self—my past selves—in the Motherhouse vault? I might be offered the chance to embrace all I once was … and never be able to escape