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“Ah, Basra. Close the door, please.”
Basra paused just inside the office to pull the door shut as ordered, then glanced with a carefully neutral expression at Principia, who was standing at attention near the High Commander’s desk, before proceeding the rest of the way forward.
“Good morning, Commander. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting?”
“Not at all, Locke only just got arrived herself,” Rouvad said briskly. “Apologies for depriving you of breakfast, Sergeant, but the Bishop has business at the Church which won’t wait on us. This won’t be a long meeting.”
“My schedule is currently elastic, ma’am,” Principia replied crisply. “Obviously her Grace’s time is more valuable.”
“Indeed. Then let’s be about this before anyone is made late for anything.” Rouvad folded her hands atop the desk, shifting her body slightly to face Basra directly. “I called you both here for a progress report on your shared project. Basra, what do you have?”
“Very little, at this juncture,” Basra replied with the faintest frown. “My task is political in nature and rather sensitive; unraveling these webs takes time.”
“Naturally,” Rouvad acknowledged with a nod. “Neither of you are here to be pressured, I simply wish to remain in the loop with all details. What have you managed so far?”
“I have, of course, approached Bishop Darling to ask about those devices.” Basra twisted her mouth in a slight grimace. “He was…well, in a word, himself.”
Both the other women present nodded in immediate understanding.
“Based on our conversation,” Basra continued, “I am reasonably sure he is the one who arranged for the presence of both those staves and the tip that brought the Legion’s intervention. At least, he hinted in that direction. I should stipulate, here, that I am making assumptions. Darling is capable of being extremely underhanded indeed. My conclusions are based on our relationship; we work well together and have built up a degree of trust, which I don’t believe he would squander without cause. Based upon broad hints he has dropped, I think that Darling, personally, considers it a matter of the greater good to have those devices known to the Sisterhood, and that there are factional issues within the Thieves’ Guild at work which restrain him from working more openly with us.”
“Hm.” Rouvad narrowed her eyes slightly in thought. “How do you plan to proceed?”
“As I have, in part. He seems inclined to dole out further tidbits, but I’m unwilling to be strung along with no other recourse. As yet I’ve no other ideas or avenues to pursue, and am considering carefully what else to try. It is, as I said, a very early stage in this investigation.”
“Of course,” Rouvad agreed. “That’s satisfactory progress for two days’ work, considering. Locke, can you shed any insight on a factional conflict within the Thieves’ Guild?”
“I’m afraid not, ma’am. Factions within the Guild are transient things stirred up by the issues of the day, and I’ve been out of the loop far too long to know who’s who and what they’re after.”
“Mm. How quickly do you think you could find out?”
Principia blinked once, her own expression of surprise in an otherwise blank face. “…Commander, you’re talking about building a new reputation and a whole set of connections; thieves don’t just chitchat about sensitive business with people they’ve just met. To answer the question, years. But I wish it noted for the record that I consider the idea an abrogation of the understanding that I am not to be leveraged against the Guild, and would not comply if ordered.”
“Mm hm,” Basra murmured.
“Syrinx,” Rouvad said flatly, “she is not the only one whom I expect to remain civil, here. And she’s correct: that is, indeed, Legion policy and Sisterhood doctrine with regard to individuals who have affiliation with multiple cults. My apologies, Sergeant, it was a spur of the moment thought, not an order.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“In any case,” Rouvad continued, “if the Bishop has nothing else to add…? Very well. It is, as we’ve noted, quite early in this affair, Locke, but have you made any progress, either with the staves or tracing their origins?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Principia replied. “The weapons are called divine disruptors. They were created by a secret division of the Imperial Army at a secure spell lab in Veilgrad, which was damaged in the chaos event of a few months ago. Weapon prototypes were stolen by members of the chaos cult which caused the disaster, and then stolen from them by the Black Wreath, who were then ambushed and beaten by Duchess Malivette Dufresne, a vampire of one of the more dangerous lineages and the sitting Imperial Governor of Lower Stalwar Province. Dufresne returned most of the staves to the Empire, after suggesting her intention to deliver one or more to the Theives’ Guild for the express purpose of disseminating the spellwork in question and depriving the Imperial government of exclusive control of it. What occurred after that I have not ascertained, though it suggests in general terms how Bishop Darling came to be involved.
“In function, the weapons produce a burst of energy which neutralizes all forms of divine magic. Sister Eivery and I have not yet had time to test them under a variety of conditions, but we have ascertained that they immediately collapse a divine shield of normal strength, and when used on a Light-wielder, inhibit the subject’s ability to call upon divine magic. That effect fades after an hour, roughly. I have disassembled one of the staves, and believe I could build another from scratch, but liargold aside, these specimens are made almost entirely from cheap knock-off materials, largely because the genuine materials they suggest are prohibitively expensive. To proceed, ma’am, I will need either a substantial quantity of gold and rare crystals, or the assistance of an alchemist able to work with liargold.”
She stopped talking, and there was dead silence in the room. Rouvad and Syrinx both stared at her, wide-eyed.
“Locke,” the Commander said after a long moment, “how did you dig all that up so quickly?”
“I ascribe it to either immense good luck or Avei’s intervention, ma’am,” Principia replied. “One of the Guild apprentices we have been following happened to have been present at Veilgrad when these weapons first appeared.”
“Oh, Locke,” Basra murmured. “I do hope that doesn’t mean what it sounds like it means. Since we are well aware that Trissiny Avelea was present and involved in that mess…”
“Yes, your Grace,” Principia said calmly. “General Avelea has been most helpful. Her involvement is the only reason I am inclined to credit divine intervention; a paladin’s presence where coincidences start to appear is suggestive.”
“And just what were you doing talking to Trissiny Avelea?” Basra snapped.
“She summoned me,” Principia replied, shifting her eyes to Rouvad. “Given our respective ranks, I judged I had better respond immediately. For future reference, however, would you prefer I report any contact with the General, Commander? I wish to avoid the appearance of impropriety.”
Rouvad shook her head. “The condition of your enlistment was that you stay away from Avelea unless she reached out to you first. If she did, whatever you discuss is between you. However, I should clarify that you are not to pursue her attentions if she’s not inclined to talk further. Understood?”
“I wouldn’t, anyway, Commander. That’s no way to build a relationship with someone.”
“Locke, I don’t need to hear your opinions on interpersonal relations when I give you an order. You know what I need to hear?”
“Exactly,” Rouvad said, staring pointedly at her. “Now, with regard to the matter at hand, did she summon you to talk specifically about these weapons?”
“No, ma’am, I asked about that. She wanted my advice on integrating Avenist and Eserite philosophies and succeeding in the Guild.”
“Hm,” the Commander mused. “Very well. I would castigate you for apparently firing one of those weapons at Eivery, but frankly, knowing her as I do, I’ll assume your presence was the only reason she didn’t test it on herself without supervision.”
“I appreciate that, ma’am.”
“Overall, impressive progress, Locke. How do you plan to proceed?”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ve indicated my intentions with regard to the continuing reverse-enchantment of the weapons. While I personally am keeping a circumspect distance from both Trissiny and the Guild, Shahai has made contact with the group of apprentices we arrested and established the beginnings of a relationship, which we intend to leverage for further information as possible and appropriate. With regard to that, she reported the group were also approached by a group of dwarves with the same intent. Not to be racist, but dwarves were also apparently the intended buyers of the staves at the swap meet the Legion interrupted.”
“How can it possibly be racist to notice that both groups were dwarves?” Basra said disdainfully.
Principia’s armor rasped softly as she shrugged. “I didn’t want to imply that they all look alike. Both wore obscuring robes, which isn’t dwarven or anybody’s custom who isn’t trying to hide their identity.”
“Interesting,” said Rouvad. “Keep me appraised of any developments.”
“Of course, Commander.”
“Anything else to report?”
“Yes, ma’am. Among those arrested, but not involved with the Guild, was another individual whose presence was extremely fortuitous. He is a Salyrite, a fae magic specialist who provides helpfully indirect access to that cult’s resources; I am cultivating a relationship in part with an eye to developing that connection, since the Sisterhood has few personnel like Eivery trained for the kind of work I am doing. He also happens to be the son of an old friend of mine, who I was not aware had offspring. Name is Herschel Schwartz.”
Basra shifted her head very faintly, raising on eyebrow by a hair.
“Very well, you don’t really need my blessing to proceed with that,” said Rouvad. “Needless to say, you will be very careful with any plan which involves the College of Salyrene in this, but I understand the potential need.”
“Yes, ma’am. I do not intend to involve the College at all, but only available elements within it, to the extent that it can be done discreetly. But I raised the matter for another reason. Mr. Schwartz was present for Bishop Syrinx’s recent successes in Viridill and apparently part of her staff. He is now pursuing some kind of vendetta against her.”
Rouvad sighed and leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. “Basra!”
“That’s a surprise to me,” Basra said in perfect calm. “Schwartz was imminently helpful to me for his magical expertise in dealing with elementals and other fae nonsense. I sent a glowing testimonial of his performance to his cult. I thought we parted on good terms.”
“Locke,” Rouvad said irritably, straightening back up. “why is this man now obsessed with the Bishop?”
“I would say ‘offended’ more than ‘obsessed,’ ma’am. And I didn’t ask.”
The Commander’s gaze sharpened. “You didn’t ask why this son of your acquaintance was chasing a vendetta against our Bishop?”
“Permission to speak freely, ma’am?”
“Denied. I have expressed myself clearly on the subject of infighting, Locke. You will keep a civil tongue in your head when employing it to, about, or near Bishop Syrinx. Answer the question.”
“Yes, ma’am. I consider his motivations secondary at best and probably not very interesting; what matters is that he cannot be allowed to do this. Quite apart from the need to shield our Bishop from outside interference, as someone with a personal interest in the boy’s continued health I would rather not see him pick a fight he is going to decisively lose.”
Rouvad’s stare shifted back to Basra. “And you have no idea why he would be irate with you?”
“I didn’t say I had no idea,” the Bishop replied with a shrug. “Schwartz was extremely useful, but he’s an academic and frankly a bit of a houseplant. Hand-holding him through various outdoor excursions was…trying. He also had developed an infatuation with my aide, Private Covrin. Since she was being exceedingly discreet with members of other cults at my request, due to the sensitivity of our work, she refrained from rebuking him as firmly as she otherwise might. Considering I was the reason for Covrin’s restraint, I took it upon myself to instruct him to leave her alone. And that not until I found him lurking outside her quarters at the Abbey; better he hear it from me than a Silver Legion patrol. They don’t do restraint when it comes to creepy guys harassing their own.” She shook her head. “I thought I was fair with the boy, and he didn’t seem excessively upset at the time. Though that may have just been embarrassment.”
“Is this Schwartz character a threat, do you think, Locke?”
“I hardly think so, ma’am,” Principia replied. “He has no stomach for violence, no inclination toward law-breaking, and no plan. He was hanging around an illegal swap meet in the hopes of striking up an acquaintance with Eserites who could teach him how to go about seeking revenge. That’s the kind of competence we’re talking about, here.”
“I concur with every part of the Sergeant’s assessment,” Basra said dryly. “Not a thing in this world frightens me less than the outrage of Herschel Schwartz.”
“I am cultivating Schwartz as a useful contact, as I said,” Principia continued. “I also mean to talk him down from this at the same time. This business with Covrin is news to me, though he mentioned her. This altogether strikes me as common enough behavior in a young man who lacked good female role models growing up. Some time spent around my squad will do him a world of good, I think.”
“All right, on the strength of both your recommendations,” Rouvad said darkly, “I’ll let that alone for now. But if for any reason your assessment changes in any way, Locke, you will immediately report it, both to me and to Bishop Syrinx.”
“Yes, ma’am. I have already told Herschel that if he goes near Bishop Syrinx with aggressive intent I’ll be taking the matter directly to his own cult.”
“Good; do that, too. What you do in your personal time, and with whom, is your own affair, but none of this is to come between you and your duties.”
“Of course, Commander.”
“Anything else, then?” She paused, glancing back and forth between them. “Very well. All things considered, ladies, good work; keep it up. Dismissed.”
Basra kept herself restrained all through the ride to the Cathedral and the walk through its halls to her office. The whole time, Jenell tried to be as invisible as possible; she could clearly see the storm coming. Being out of its path was probably not an option. She’d have to settle for not making herself its focus.
Her reprieve extended once they arrived; Basra immediately sent her to cancel her first appointment of the day. While Jenell ordinarily hated having to give bad news to the likes of Bishop Rastlin, especially when she couldn’t provide a satisfactory reason for it, today she relished the opportunity to be out from under Basra’s glowering eye for a little while. Even Rastlin’s displeasure was a relief. There wasn’t much he could actually do to her.
She desperately wanted to drag her feet and prolong the errand, but didn’t dare. Making Basra wait at the best of times was a quick way to the bad side of her temper; adding any kind of delay to her existing ire would be a disaster.
Basra’s office, very fortunately, was soundproof; the enchantment was standard on all the offices of Bishops and Church officials of any high rank. Covrin had standing permission to enter without knocking, which she did—then quickly slipped inside and shut the door before anybody happened to hear what sounded like a fight in progress.
The Bishop’s idea of décor was almost a caricature of Avenist standards. At her home, she liked her comforts lavish, but her space in the Cathedral was stark, spartan, and decorated exclusively with military hardware. The walls were hung with bladed and blunt weapons, shields bearing various devices, and locked display cases holding old-fashioned battlestaves. Jenell had worked with Basra long enough and accumulated enough trust to know which cases weren’t actually locked, and which staves still held a charge. In each of the room’s corners stood a suit of armor—a medieval cavalry knight’s, and three different Silver Legion sets from different eras—and by the fireplace was a training dummy on a slightly flexible pole.
This was the office’s second dummy since Basra had returned from Viridill. They did not enjoy long lives.
Despite her usual preference for sword combat, Basra was going at the thing bare-fisted, striking hard enough to draw small grunts, a bad sign. She was usually too tightly controlled for that. The little sounds she made were high-pitched and incongruously cute, a fact upon which Jenell had far too much sense to ever remark.
She placed herself by the door and stood at attention. Basra had not looked up to acknowledge her, but she knew the woman’s situational awareness was far too acute to have missed the opening and closing of the door.
Jenell didn’t have to wait long. Moments after her arrival, Basra brought the session to an end with a roundhouse kick that sent the dummy careening into the rack of practice weapons standing near it. The lot clattered to the floor, reinforcing the importance of the office’s soundproofing. Kicks like that weren’t part of the Eagle Style, and were in general not a smart thing to try against a competent opponent, or so Jenell had been told by her drill instructor in basic. She could believe it; Basra only did such things when she wanted to make a mess.
“That smug tree rat whore,” she snarled, beginning to pace up and down. Jenell managed not to wince; she’d really hoped the woman would have worked out most of her anger on the dummy. “Showboating little piece of grove trash! It’s not enough she has to show me up for results, when Rouvad is clearly testing us against each other. And she’s doing it by playing her own connections—to the Guild, and that damned paladin. No, then she has to taunt me with this business about Schwartz!”
Calm. Control. Jenell refused to react. She desperately wanted to know what Schwartz had to do with any of this, but instinct and experience warned that if she pulled that string she’d gain a black eye or two. Basra rarely struck her physically, and more rarely still in a way that left marks. When she felt such a lesson was necessary, though, her ability to heal minor wounds on the spot was extremely useful.
“Even Rouvad isn’t this blind,” Basra growled, stopping in her pacing and turning to stare across her office at the window behind her desk. “No… So that’s how it is, Farzida? Fine. Fine. I’m still twice the—three times the anything your pet elf is. Stack the deck all you want, I’ll still mop the floor with her scalp.” She drew in a deep breath, her shoulders swelling, and let it out slowly. Finally, some of the anger melted from her expression. It did not vanish completely, though, even as she smiled. “And yours, some day. Soon enough.”
Jenell kept silent, staring straight ahead, lest Basra happened to glance over and catch her watching. It had occurred to her before that some of the things Basra allowed her to overhear would get the Bishop severely rebuked at minimum… If she were fool enough to think that pitting her word against Basra’s would go in her favor. She didn’t know if this was a test of her loyalty, or merely of her restraint. For all that so much of her life focused around predicting and responding to Basra’s moods, so much of the woman’s thought process was opaque to her.
“Locke is only getting anywhere because she has connections,” Basra murmured, scowling intently into the distance, now. “I don’t know how she got in with those Eserite kids so quickly… That’s what I’ll need to undercut.”
At one time, Jenell had thought herself quite clever—cunning, even. Months under Basra’s authority had taught her what cunning was, and that hers didn’t compare; it was all she could do to proceed slowly with her research toward what she hoped would be her mentor’s unmaking without being caught. She’d never been sly enough to spot an opportunity like this, develop a plan, and take action, all on the spur of the moment.
Which was why it was fortunate she’d developed that plan already, and been watching intently for just such an opening.
“What if you just took over her connections?” she asked.
Basra shot her an irritated look. “Be quiet, you silly cow, I’m—” She broke off, staring blankly at Jenell.
Suddenly, Basra turned on her heel and strode across the room, straight for her. Jenell allowed her face to express alarm and backed up against the door. Most of the time she kept her self-control iron-clad, but she’d learned long since that Basra rather enjoyed seeing her afraid.
The Bishop didn’t stop until she was standing close enough that Jenell could feel her breath on her cheek.
“Jenell,” she murmured, “I do believe I owe you an apology.”
“Oh, um, I’m sure that’s not—”
“Hush.” Basra laid a finger over her lips. “That was an excellent suggestion you just had; exactly what I need. And a reminder of why I keep you around, which is certainly not for your filing skills or because you’re particularly good in bed.” Fingers lightly grazed that spot just above her hip where there was a small gap in the armor, and she shuddered. Basra’s lips quirked sideways in amusement. “That socialite’s animal cunning, though. You’re going to make a more than adequate politician someday, my dear.”
“You’ll have to get rid of that stammer, of course,” Basra said dismissively, abruptly stepping away and beginning to pace again. “There is absolutely no reason for an intelligent person to make noises like ‘uh.’ You have got to be able to pass yourself off as an intelligent person, Jenell, or they’ll eat you alive out there. Honestly, how you managed without me to hold your hand is an ongoing mystery. It’s a damned shame about Elwick—but then, if you had the wit or the spine to stand up to me that way, you wouldn’t be benefiting from my patronage now.”
Jenell kept silent. Oddly, she wasn’t even particularly offended anymore. Of all the things she put up with, insults like this were commonplace and minor. It was a good sign, if anything; Basra didn’t talk this way when she was in a bad enough mood to do something that could actually hurt her.
“Locke’s connections,” the Bishop mused to herself as she paced. “She’s on the outs with the Guild, even Darling doesn’t like her. And I’d get nowhere with them. That’s neutral. Trissiny is untouchable, but the girl is both unformed and already deeply suspicious of Locke. If she’s reaching out to her… Have to put a stop to that. And those kids, now. What they need is friends and allies. The sort who haven’t thrown them in cells.”
She halted, turned to face her aide, and folded her hands behind her back, smiling pleasantly. Jenell experienced a small frisson of true fear.
“Jenell,” Basra said calmly, “I have a task for you.”
“What do you need, your Grace?”
“You’re going to find those kids Locke is cultivating, the Eserites, and befriend them. You have permission to act out of armor—in fact, it’s probably better if you do at least part of the time. They are to work for me, not for Principia Locke.”
“Ah, your Grace,” Jenell said nervously.
“What did I literally just finish saying to you about umms and uhhs? Shut up when I’m talking, it’s not as if you have anything useful to contribute, anyway. Make what use of those kids you can while getting them kindly disposed toward me. But your primary target is Trissiny Avelea. That’s the one I need most of all. She knows me as a helpful figure, she’s uncertain about Locke, and I need both those attitudes reinforced. Make it happen.”
“I’m… How should I approach them?”
“Must I do everything for you?” Basra said irritably. “Follow Locke’s squad, if you can’t think of anything better. They’re already working with the brats; they’ll lead you to wherever you can go to intercept them. And Avelea is your in, if you can’t manage to arrange one of your own. She’s a smart one—no Hand of Avei has ever shown the kind of initiative she’s taken, learning the Guild’s ways. It’s the next best thing to studying with the Black Wreath themselves. That girl may actually live to see her thirtieth birthday, and accomplish more than beating back the tide, which would be a departure from her predecessors’ track record. Help her, but above all, bring her to me. If she doesn’t need your help—which is almost certainly the case, considering her and considering you—she’ll be willing to help you if you create a need. She’s a protective one, is Avelea.”
“Ma’am,” Jenell said desperately, “I’m not sure I’m the right person for this. I don’t know anything about associating with that kind of…riffraff.”
Basra smiled. “Then I suggest you get to work developing new skills, Jenell. One can never have too many, after all.” Abruptly her voice sharpened. “Well? Why are you still here?”
Jenell snapped off a salute, and fumbled with the door in the process of skittering out.
She kept herself to a fast pace all the way down the hall and around the corner; the door didn’t open behind her, but its frosted glass pane could have given Basra a wavery view of her retreating back, had the Bishop bothered to watch her. It was never worth making assumptions or taking risks with Basra Syrinx.
Once around the turn, though, she slowed to a more normal pace, and, finding herself alone in the hall, permitted herself a grin of fierce triumph.
That was the first part, done.
Busking was beneath her dignity, of course. Imagine, playing the guitar on a street corner, like…any of the people who plied a trade on street corners. Not a one of those potential trades were anything Ami Talaari wanted anything to do with. And worse, what if someone important saw her? This was a block toward the walls from the Temple of Avei—still a central district of the city, close enough to Imperial Square that, even at this tedious hour of midmorning, the right sort of people might be about. She consoled herself with the thought that most of those whose attention she courted would still be asleep, the better to be out conniving and carousing long into the night.
Fortunately, she wasn’t kept waiting long.
Principia drew looks, as always when walking the city with her helmet off. The respect commanded by a Silver Legionnaire contrasted with the suspicion accorded an elf. Ami rather doubted Locke ever had to deal with racist imprecations; she didn’t get as many tipped hats and murmured blessings as most of her sisters-in-arms, probably, but still. Rare was the fool who wanted to start a fight with the Legions.
All this was quite useful at this moment, as it meant the few other passersby kept a respectful distance from Locke as she strode past Ami’s corner, pausing to drop a coin into her guitar case. No one was close enough to hear the elf murmur.
“She bought it.”
Ami nodded to her, not pausing in her song, just as she would any other patron. Her face remained in a smile that held despite her singing. Of course, it was now a genuine smile, but the punters would never know the difference.
24 thoughts on “11 – 14”
Good thing I got an early start today; this was one of those chapters that proved difficult to write. Specifically, the second half. Basra and Jenell’s dyamic is a “holy shit” level of disturbing. Actually makes me nostalgic for Shook and Kheshiri; at least those two assholes arguably deserve each other.
Thanks to this week’s donors and, as always, Patreon supporters for this Friday chapter! Everybody have a great weekend, and I’ll see you back here Monday.
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ooh, great fun! I’m not normally one for hip deep intrigue, but this was nice. Well, all your stuff is nice! There have been an exceptional concentration of spectacular scenes lately; tris in jail, the Glory meeting, the T&P bit, etc; so many just awesome bits! This one was good too, although in a sneakier way. Yay you! Quite a few of those just left me in awe of your ability to weave the story to create really memorable (spectacular even) moments. And, yes, I signed up on Patreon after being beaten over the head by the wonderful writing.
Man, I knew Jenell and Basra didn’t exactly have a healthy working relationship, but that was frankly horrifying. And really really well written. I’m rooting for Jenell pretty damn hard now.
Why is Jenell not just getting the hell out of dodge? Was she forced into the Legion by her family, is she unable to leave without it being desertion, or what? Does Rouvad not know how bad Basra is, or is she tolerating it?
For that matter, why is Basra not getting smacked down by Avei? I can’t imagine Avei is totally clueless about what her Bishop is doing, or would tolerate it if she knew. I wonder if it’s the same sort of god-block Justinian has going.
My theory is that Jenell wants to resolve that situation herself. If she asks for help, then she’ll be a victim who needed rescue. If she runs away, she only saves herself but would leave Basra free to make Jenell’s life difficult. Basra would just find a new victim and continue like nothing happened.
No, Jenell wants to be the hero who vanquishes the monster. She needs to bring Basra down to make up for all the abuse she had to suffer but it’s more than just simple revenge.
All systems are corrupt and Basra is the glaring example of this for the Sisters of Avei. Jenell wants to change that and prevent something like that from happening again.
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Jenell is the young girl of the military guy. She insulted ruda at the banquet they all attended in tiraas. Instead of getting sent to the punaji capital to learn, tris had her enlisted in the silver legion. There she met Corvil, and blah blah blah. So she was forced to enlist, but more than that, she turned down the escape prin offered her, choosing, as print said I think, to be the hero to slay the monster. It’s been repeated often too.
Oops, meant she met elwick in the silver legion bootcamp thing… been a long morning and the last name thing is a pain.
I kind of feel sorry for Basra.
Most apprentice Esserites would notice the rot in a system if she stood in front of them trying to manipulate them. They’re inexperienced, not stupid. 😛
Also, I think Mum is taking an active interest in teaching “Jasmine” how to integrate cult philosophies quite nicely by lobbing Jenell her way. 🙂
Yes.somehow i think this book may be the last we See of our dearest Bishop. She is attracting enemies like a pile of fresh manure attracts flies.
Hm? Prin didn’t “lob” Jennell Triss’ way, in fact she specifically declined to do that. What on not-earth are you talking about?
First rule of teenagers: obviously steering them away from something may’s well be advertising it.
First rule of Basra: riling her up will make her pass the frustration downwards. Which will make the emotional punching bag act.
What did Prin do? 🙂
Oh Basra… Basra Basra Basra.
Then again, i suppose as an example of someone who doesn’t really think through connections she’s a wonderful example. She doesn’t really have connections so much as she has property.
Actually reading this chapter made me realize something. So calling it now Basra will die and return as a succubus. Think about she seems incredibly likely to be offed by one enemy or another and shes definitely evil and determined enough to be come a succubus afterward.
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Well, then she’s a problem for the next generation. Succubi aren’t made quickly, the process takes a while and most souls never make it that far.
And somewhere, Sweet is putting his feet up on a pillow while his Butler frowns, lighting a cigar. “I love it when a plan comes together.”
There is no way he wasn’t responsible for Triss being in that bust.
I’ve still no idea why Principia brought up Schwartz, but I’m not as crafty as all these people.
If I had to guess, Prin realized that despite her best efforts, sooner or later Basra would realize that Schwartz was coming after her. By framing it as the laughably pathetic attempts of a scorned youth, Basra is likely to miss clues that he is acting more intelligently and with more coordination with outside sources. Also, Basra would have a harder time explaining away any actions she might take against Schwartz, as the level of appropriate response has now been set pretty low.
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I wonder what Avei is thinking about Trissiny’s new career path. From the very first chapter of Book 1 we got “Avei frowned upon lies, even little social ones.” … and Triss is telling lots of lies lately.
I’m sure if Avei disapproved Trissiny, of all people, would know about it pretty fast.
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This, right here, this is why Justinian gets a free ride.
Let me digress for a moment… Hello, I just binge read everything this past week. It’s been marvelous, I loved it, thank you.
Ok, back to the post. How many times have we heard people say that about the Archpope? Even Darling himself has said it multiple times, “Justinian is the Archpope. If the Gods disagreed with what he’s doing, I’m sure they’d say something.”
But we just learned that belief from enough people tie a deity into acting in accordance with that belief. Lots of people are sure that the Gods don’t think anything bad of Justinian, because otherwise they’d say something. Since they haven’t said anything, they must not think anything bad of him. And because of the strong belief in that circular logic it’s true — the Gods don’t think anything bad of Justinian.
As for Tris, if this theory is correct, a bit of Avei’s own soul is in Tris. Avei can’t take it back as long as Tris acts in faith that Avei won’t take it back.
This is how that Huntsman bound Shaath. He realized that if he acted in faith, he was immune to his own god, so he created a new path (probably because he wanted subservient wives), and boom, there the new situation was.
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Now that I think about it, I wonder if that was just something told to children raised by the Legion to make them behave.
Or perhaps it’s more along the lines of Avei not liking lies in the same way she might not like to, say, eat fish. She would try to avoid it if possible, but if circumstances conspired, she’d grimace and put up with it. And she wouldn’t put forth a divine edict telling her followers not to eat fish.
Or Trissiny could always get a free pass as a paladin, I guess.
The short explanation. Per Avenist doctrine everything is warfare. Trissiny goes to the training camp for social warfare. Lies are weapons in this Battlefield. Avenist doctrine states that a fight is to be avoided. Dislike of a weapon means only to learn how to wield it right and how to defend against it.
deliver one or more to the Theives’ Guild > Thieves
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