“Make no mistake.” Ms. Kevarian closed her valise with a snap like the sealing of a coffin. “We’ve just begun our work. The reunification of Justice and Seril remains unstable. Seril’s children are still unwelcome within Alt Coulumb, and the goddess’s return is a secret, with good reason. Many blame her for abandoning the city to fight in the God Wars, and for the deaths her Guardians caused. That’s not to mention the dubious status of Kos’s contracts after his resurrection. We will return here again, soon.”
“I wanted to talk to you about that.” Tara’s hand rose to her stomach. Beneath her shirt, the wound Denovo gave her was swaddled in thick bandages, still healing.
“About what?”
“About Kos,” Tara said. Three weeks later, the afterimage of the god’s rebirth still burned in bruised purple before her eyes. “And one or two related matters.”
“What remains to be explained?”
She wanted to get to the point, but Ms. Kevarian’s patient expression drained her courage. She had prepared for this moment, but it felt worse than she had expected. “When did you first know he was hiding in Abelard’s cigarette?”
“When I met the boy in Gustave’s office. I’ve seen hidden gods before, and recognized the signs. I caught a vanishing glimpse before Kos realized he was being observed and hid himself deeper than I could follow. He was almost dead in truth, comatose by human comparison. I reasoned that he must have mistrusted his clergy if he hid from them, so I kept Abelard away from other priests, in your company or in mine.”
“You said he hid almost as soon as you saw him. It must have happened so fast. How did you know you weren’t mistaken?”
“Simple.” She leaned back against her desk. “I killed Abelard.”
“What?”
“I pulled his life away, slowly. As I drew it from him, more poured in from another source: a fire beyond this world. I half-expected him to realize the truth then, but he was oblivious to Kos’s presence, even as god-ash accumulated in his lungs. He began to see like a god or a Craftsman as he investigated the Sanctum’s boiler room; he used the vision to good effect, but failed to realize its source. Didn’t think anything of it when his so-called cigarette flame nearly killed that shadow-monster, either. Engineers: they spend so much time solving physical problems and obeying physical rules, they forget that nonphysical phenomena obey rules every bit as strict.”
Tara imagined Ms. Kevarian casually snuffing out Abelard’s life to test a theory. “You killed him when you took him to visit the ambassadors. Stand in their offices and look like a good little cleric, you said.”
“I needed an opportunity to make the experiment, and to demonstrate to Denovo’s clients that Kos still lived. They pulled their support from Alexander tacitly. Without that, he would have been more powerful when we faced him.”
The stars beyond the window struggled against the light from Ms. Kevarian’s desk lamp. “Very professional, boss.”
“It was an intellectual challenge: how to draw our adversaries out without betraying our hand?” Satisfaction manifested in the curve of her lips, in the downward cast of her eyes and the sturdy line of her shoulders.
It did not last for long.
“That’s what I thought. And it’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
Ms. Kevarian waited. When Tara did not continue, she said, “Yes?”
“You knew Kos was still alive, but you kept that knowledge from me, from Abelard, from everyone. You suspected Denovo was behind Kos’s death, and maybe even Cabot’s, all along; why else did you agree to meet with him in the dark room at Xiltanda, where you were functionally defenseless? You expected him to control your mind, because only when he had you at his mercy would he feel sure enough to lay all his cards on the table and begin the final phase of his plan. And you sent Abelard to me, knowing that, with his information and my own, I’d be able to piece together the truth, confront Denovo, and distract him long enough for you to get free. You guided my investigation so I would find whatever proof existed of Denovo’s involvement. I’d ask why you didn’t tell me your suspicions, but I already know: you thought I might confront him before you were prepared. You moved all of us like game pieces.”
Those straight shoulders and that curved neck stiffened. “You’re good, Tara. Without you, I could not have uncovered the gargoyles’ role in events, let alone Seril’s existence. Your work was invaluable.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I enjoyed that work, too. All of it. I was at least as manipulative as you. More so, in some ways: I stole Shale’s face, I warped Cat’s mind, while you barely used any Craft at all. But in the end I’m not sure either of us is any better than Denovo. He used other people because he wanted to become a god. We did the same because we wanted to win, wanted to be paid, wanted to see him fall. We’re leaving behind us a broken city, and two resurrected gods. Alt Coulumb doesn’t yet know the depth of the changes we have wrought upon it. And soon we’ll be gone, because we’ve done our job.”
Ms. Kevarian did not respond.
“My family left the east for Edgemont during the God Wars.” Tara willed her voice not to shake. “They had good reasons, but they ran, and I think … I think somehow their running away became my running away. I ran from Edgemont for anywhere else, away from everything I knew. I think for once I shouldn’t run. I know you’ve risked yourself to help me, to give me a chance at the firm. I’m more grateful than I can say. I enjoy working with you, and I owe you my life. But I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here, and finish what we’ve started.”
A terrible silence followed. Ms. Kevarian stood silhouetted by the moon, alone. Tara wanted to apologize, to say she hadn’t meant anything by it, to fall in line. She did not. “What,” said Ms. Kevarian after a time, “do you intend to do in Alt Coulumb if you remain?”
“The Church of Kos needs a Craftswoman on hand, someone who knows the city well enough to help them handle the aftershocks of Kos’s resurrection and Seril’s return. I can be that person. They need me. And I need to stop running away from everything I’ve done. I can’t stay one step ahead of the mob forever.”
“Remaining here might be another form of running.”
“I know. But I think this is different.”
Flickering lantern light cast Ms. Kevarian’s shadow long on the carpet. Tara focused on the velvet sky, and waited. Ms. Kevarian raised her head.
“I understand.”
“You do?”
“It’s a silly idea, and it indicates a degree of immaturity on your part as a Craftswoman. But it’s your idea. And you’re young. There’s plenty of time for you to grow.” They exchanged a long glance, and Tara saw Ms. Kevarian as she must have been decades before, full and young and twenty-five, staring down a long dark path toward power. “Do it. These people need someone to keep them from killing one another.”
“Thank you.” The words sounded hollow, and the room seemed oddly empty.
“I’ll swing back through Alt Coulumb when I’m done in the Archipelago a couple months from now,” she said at last. “To see if you’re ready to get back to work. You’re a great talent, Ms. Abernathy. I will not lose you this easily.”
“Thanks, boss.”
*
Clergies do not accept change well as a rule. The struggle over who would succeed to the office of Technical Cardinal of the Church of Kos Everburning was fierce, pitting three distinct reform factions against two breeds of theological conservatives. Some of the priests praised Seril’s return, and wished to admit Her to the liturgy. Others felt the gargoyles and their Goddess were best left alone. Seril Herself did not deign to address Her lover’s clergy, which only fueled the debate.