“There is nothing to be done for the priest,” Tephe said.
“He is gone mad, sir,” Forn said.
Tephe smiled, but it was not a pleasant smile. “No, Neal,” Tephe said. “He has not lost his mind. He has lost his faith. A priest losing his faith is not a thing we can fix or heal.” He tried to move past Forn, but Forn held fast, risking his captain’s wrath.
“We need the priest, sir,” Forn said. “He leads the rites that bind the god when we travel. And travel we must. Our orders were to return to Bishop’s Call as soon as our task here was complete. If we stay here we compromise the secrecy of this planet. We have spent too much time here as it is.”
“Have one of the acolytes lead the rite,” Tephe said.
“We cannot,” Forn said. “The priest did not teach it to them.”
“The acolytes did it with him,” Tephe said, looking at his executive officer as if he were simple.
“They know their parts well enough,” Forn agreed. “The priest would not teach them his. It appears Andso believed that acolytes were not be taught but rather only to be used. And it is not only that, sir. Even if an acolyte took his books and spoke his words, only a priest may lead the binding rite. You know as I do that an acolyte may not advance into priesthood without the approval of his priest, or the death of his priest by necessity advancing him. Our priest lives but cannot give his approval.”
“I have already said there is nothing to be done for the priest,” Tephe said.
“Sir, I disagree,” Forn said, with some urgency. “Yes, Andso has lost his faith. But his mind has broken as well. It must be tended to before we can deal with his faith. If we only heal his mind, it may be enough to pass his assent to an acolyte.”
“What do you suggest?” Tephe asked, after a moment.
“Have a rook attend him,” Forn said.
Tephe’s lip turned up in something that was close to a sneer. “You know the priest will not suffer that,” he said. “Simply dragging him across the threshold of the rookery would drive him deeper into madness. And our Lord forbid Rook Shalle should actually touchhim. He would flail as if he were burned.”
“We must do something!” Forn said, startling Tephe. In all of their time together, the captain had never known his first mate to raise his voice to him.
Forn startled himself as well; he looked around to see if others had heard him, and then leaned in close to his captain. “We need to leave this place, captain,” he hissed. “Every minute we stay we risk detection. Every minute we stay here the rumors of what happened to drive a priest mad grow in the mouths of the crew. Every minute we stay here the men’s faith drains from them.”
“Have the Gavril call for a new priest, Neal.” Tephe said. “It will take several days but then we can be under way.”
Forn looked at his captain strangely. “Lieutenant Ysta is dead, sir,” he said. “We spoke of this last night. He took a knife and drove it into his throat and near cut off his own head. He was dead before he hit the ground. You must remember this.”
Tephe looked at Forn blankly and then remembered his first mate coming to him the previous night, a few hours after the landing party’s return. Tephe had nodded and kept on his walk.
“I remember now,” Tephe said.
“You have not slept since you returned from the planet, sir,” Forn said. “You need rest.”
“I am well enough,” Tephe said.
“No, sir,” Forn said. “You are not.”
“I beg your pardon,” Tephe said, flaring.
“You stalk the ship as if you were being chased by demons,” Forn said. “You ignore the crew as you move past them. As if they were ghosts to you. Do you think this goes unnoticed? Sir, our Gavril is dead, our priest is mad and you appear as if you are on your way to join one or the other. None of you will speak of what happened below, but none of usare stupid, captain. We can read a map set before us.”
Tephe looked around, seeing his surroundings rather than his own boots. He and Forn were on a wide catwalk above a cargo hold. Below them crew members conspicuously kept to their business, their eyes never leaving their work. Tephe did not doubt they had heard much of the exchange between the two of them.
“You need rest, sir,” Forn said. “And when you are rested we must tend to the priest. We need to get away from here, sir. I have no doubt of that.”
Tephe was silent for a moment. Then he smiled, and clapped Forn on the shoulder. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, Neal. You are right, of course. Have healer Omll meet me in my quarters. I will need his help finding rest. When I have slept, you and I will speak with rook Shalle and see what we can do about priest Andso.”
“Very good, sir,” Forn said. He was visibly relieved.
“You have taken Ysta’s Talent from his body?” Tephe asked.
“It was removed by healer Garder, yes,” Forn said.
“Pick a likely crew member and provide it to him,” Tephe said. “Preferably one without a Talent of his own.”
“Being a Gavril needs training,” Forn said.
“It does,” Tephe said. “But a Talent may also be used needfully. Whomever you choose does not have to connect with all other Gavril. He will simply need to send a distress message to Bishop’s Call. If we cannot heal the priest, it will have to do.”
“Yes, captain,” Forn said.
“Thank you, Neal,” Tephe said. “That will be all.” Tephe moved to resume his walking.
“When shall I tell healer Omll to be at your quarters?” Forn said. He was still in his captain’s way.
“Presently,” Tephe said. “I have something to see to first.”
Forn nodded and stepped aside. Tephe walked past, purposefully.
“We have been waiting for you,” the god said. It sat, legs splayed, in its iron circle. “We knew you would come to us in time.”
“Did you,” Tephe said.
“Yes,” the god said. “Your faith is strong. But not so strong now that you do not wish to know certain things.”
Tephe ignored this and looked about the empty godchamber. “Where are your guards?” he asked.
“Hiding,” the god said. “Left when your newly faithless priest returned. They have not come back.”
“You know what has happened,” Tephe said. It was not a question.
“We know of the abomination your lord performed,” the god said, and spat. “We felt it. All of our kind could feel it. We could not have hidden from it if we tried.”
“You call it an abomination,” Tephe said.
“What should it be called?” the god hissed. It crawled forward toward the captain, chains scraping as it moved. “Your lord, not content with fresh new faith, a faith that in itself was more than He deserved. No. Not content with that at all. He would have more.”
“What more is there to take?” Tephe asked.
“Stupid man,” the god said, and then shifted. “Or perhaps not stupid, if you will but listen.”
“You are not trustworthy,” Tephe said. “You lie to suit your purposes.”
“We lie,” the god agreed. “We lie because it does not matter that we lie. Your faithless priest and his idiot helpers would not hear us no matter how much truth fell from us. We would not waste truth on such as them. You, on the other hand. We might do.”
“You would try to make me doubt My Lord,” Tephe said.
The god laughed. “Oh, no,” it said, mockingly. “We would not that you do but what you do already. But that which you already do, we will feed.” It held up its hand to the captain, as if in greeting, or warning. It took the hand, drew the palm to its mouth, bit into the flesh, and did not stop until its golden blood covered its teeth and dripped unto iron. It clenched its wounded hand tightly, to draw more blood. With its bloody hand it drew a symbol in the iron.
“You do not know this,” the god said. “None of your kind know this. It is a blood spell.” It pointed to the symbol. “Our name. While our name stays in blood we may not speak falsely.”