Page 7 of No Greater Sorrow (Our Lady of Fire #2)

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THE WHISPERERS

“Scrying is a particular talent of the Otherlanders. They have an ancient saying among themselves: Bones are not as silent as they seem .”

—Excerpt from Ten Myths of the Otherlanders by Emiel Nasir.

“Why the hell would she let me go , Nic?” Aleja said, waving a bandaged hand. Her wrist was sprained, not broken, but the motion still made her wince.

“The Messenger has always hated you, Aleja, and I can say from experience that she loves mind games. She had a reason to keep you alive, and it wasn’t out of a sense of fair play. I don’t like this. It feels like she was taunting you. Letting you in on the fact that they know more than we’re aware of,” Nicolas told her.

“All the more reason Violet needs to scry. Is it true that Val won’t be able to plant falsehoods for her? We can trust him even less now,” Aleja said, but he knew her well enough to see the silent indecision playing out behind her eyes. He’d watched that same internal battle for years, every time she was forced to send someone she cared for into danger.

“The librarians confirmed it, but I’ll have them check again.”

Our Lady of Wrath and Fire looked every bit like her moniker as her dark red hair shone in the lamplight. “Good. If she wakes up, convince her. She’ll listen if it comes from you. Bonnie was asking for me. I’ll be right back.”

Fifteen minutes later, Violet finally stirred. Her eyes fluttered open and immediately shot to Nicolas, widening in surprise. “Where’s Aleja?” she asked, kicking the sheets of her cot.

“She asked me to watch over you until she returned,” he told her. One of the healers, who was puttering around in the tent, nodded and disappeared through the flaps.

“Is that thing still here?” Violet pushed the covers aside and attempted to stand, but the healer’s potions were still at work on her. She wavered and made it no farther than a seated position.

“Val is secure and under constant watch. I’m happy to ask one of my officers to accompany you to the palace if you would feel safer there.”

“You don’t understand. When I drank the well water, I saw into the creature’s mind. They hate us. They want to wipe us all out. Whatever Val told you, he’s not on our side.” Violet rubbed her forehead. Nicolas had been the recipient of the healer’s tonics on many occasions. They worked wonderfully but left one hell of a hangover.

“I don’t completely disagree, but unlike the lower beings in their realm, the Principalities are not forced into servitude. They have a society of their own. It’s possible Val is telling the truth.”

“Then what’s with the masks? Why aren’t they allowed to show their faces?”

Nicolas wondered how she had come across this tidbit of information, but there was always plenty of gossip floating around the camp. “Their faces are difficult for us to perceive, but you’re right, there is a cultural aspect to it as well. A reminder that each of the Principalities is beholden to the greater good of the Astraelis. If you want a deeper explanation, you’ll have to ask one of them.”

“You’re here to convince me to scry, aren’t you? I can’t believe that you, of all people, would trust him.”

“I’m going to tell you something now. Something only Taddeas, Aleja, and I know. Something you need to keep secret. The real question is: can I trust you ?”

Violet’s expression was difficult to read, but she nodded.

“Val is the Messenger’s son. We need to know what else he hasn’t told us. For that, I need you. If you still think he’s lying afterward, he’ll be dealt with.”

“You mean executed.”

“That decision will be made by the council of Dark Saints.”

She sighed. Violet was so pale that the lanterns seemed to shine through her skin but surviving the first Trial had returned something of her old self. She was no longer the listless sleepwalker they had rescued from the creature in the Unholy Well. “Fine. How can we be sure that Val won’t feed me false information?”

“It’s impossible to lie through scrying. We’ve brought bones from the creature beneath the well—the one you remember from the human realm. If the Authorities are truly connected, those bones will be enough to provide a link to whatever Val wants to show us. Confirming whether he’s telling the truth would go a long way in helping us make our plans.”

“I really don’t want to hear their thoughts again,” Violet muttered.

Nicolas’s jaw clenched as he prepared an argument, but before he could answer, Violet spoke. “But if I’m going to be a Dark Saint when this is all over, I guess I owe you. I’ll do it. I have only one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You tell me why the hell you lied to my best friend about whatever is going on with your chest.”

He’d almost forgotten that Violet was present when the Second had mocked him about the unfulfilled bargain.

The pain had been strangely muted in the Third’s realm, but it was back now that Nicolas didn’t have adrenaline pumping through him. He understood the magic of bargains better than almost anything else; he knew he could calculate how long he had left if he simply paid attention to how quickly the poison was weakening him, but he hadn’t done so. For the first time since gaining the title, the Knowing One didn’t want to know .

He pushed away the half-baked plan that had reared up in his mind. It wasn’t something he could ask of his wife. She’d carried enough of his burdens already.

After a brief silence, he said, “I was selfish. I had Aleja back, but I knew our peace wouldn’t last. At that moment, she was happy. I was happy. If I could have commanded time to stand still, I would have.”

“And what , now you’re going to die? What will that do to her?” Violet snapped with a force that made Nicolas sit back in his chair.

“I’m going to fix things. I’ve dealt with worse situations before.”

“Swear it to me. That means something to your kind, doesn’t it?”

“I swear,” he told her.

Violet fell back and dragged one of the pillows over her face. Her voice was muffled when she spoke. “Okay. Let’s scry. But I swear to… whatever the hell it is you Otherlanders believe in that I will make it my mission to destroy the Hiding Place if you break Aleja’s heart.”

“Understood,” he said, with a grim smile she couldn’t see.

* * *

“Why hasn’t the Messenger come after us yet?” Aleja threw her hands up. “She saw what I did to her soldier.”

Bonnie watched as Aleja paced from one end of the tent to the other with Garm weaving between her feet, happy to make himself an ever-moving tripping hazard.

“Ask Taddeas about it. Orla too. She’s good at… Oh, what do the humans call it nowadays? Psychology ,” Bonnie said. She still wore her rye and wheat crown, but her dress had been swapped for a long tunic and leggings that clung to her wide hips.

“I don’t think Orla likes me very much,” Aleja said.

“You’ll grow on her. Orla is extremely careful about who she puts her trust in. It’s what kept her alive long enough to become a Dark Saint, and what made her such a great commander on the battlefield. I just wish Merit had returned by now.”

Merit. The final Dark Saint, whom Aleja had never met.

“I feel helpless. I wish I could do more,” Bonnie went on, ignoring Aleja’s frustrated sigh.

“What are you talking about? You’ve grown enough food to feed an army twice this size in just forty-eight hours. Besides, none of this is going to matter if I led the Messenger straight to our doorstep.”

“The Messenger knows where we are. She would have attacked us if she wanted to. Besides, you were quick on your feet. Telling them Val was dead was the best thing you could have done,” Bonnie replied, repeating a point Nicolas had already tried to impress on her.

“Won’t she want revenge?”

“You don’t remember the Messenger, Aleja. I doubt that her son matters to her as much as his research.”

“But what about that thing?” Aleja pointed to the small orb on the table. Even though they’d left the Third’s realm, it still glowed.

“For all we know, it was their flashlight and they’re having a good laugh at the Lady of Wrath right now. Calm down, Al. Eat some cheese.”

Aleja had never heard such a sensible idea, so she complied. The bright orange cheese was hard, salty, and ridiculously perfect. Garm seemed to think so too; he barely managed to look up when the tent flap opened, and Nicolas slipped in.

“Good news, Violet has agreed to scry. By the Second, your breath stinks, Garm. What have you been feeding my hellhound?” Nicolas said. The gravitas of his first statement was somewhat dulled when Nicolas flipped Garm into the crook of his forearm and gave the dog a belly scratch.

Aleja sucked in a breath. “Good. What’s next?”

“Violet wants to start now, and I’ve agreed. We’re short on time. Your next Trial is only days away.”

“What about the Messenger?” Aleja asked.

“Taddeas reports no sign of her.”

“I’ll fetch Orla,” Bonnie said. Aleja bit the tip of her tongue to keep from protesting. It was silly, human , to cringe at the thought of sharing a space with a woman she barely knew yet had been somewhat cold to her.

But she knows you all too well , said Aleja’s inner voice.

Garm trotted beside them to a large tent, in front of which stood two cloaked figures—one in gray, one in red—whose owl eyes peered out from above thick cowls. Aleja almost leaned toward Nicolas to whisper, “Who are they?” but Orla was already at the entrance, and Aleja didn’t want to remind her that she was still practically a stranger to this world.

Orla’s armor was a shinier, less dented version of the one Aleja had pleaded with Violet to take beneath the Second’s mountain. The bright red serpent looked vicious and proud. “Two librarians for one interrogation. Bringing out the heavyweights for this one, Nic?”

Violet was already there, shifting uncomfortably in Val’s presence. Someone had fetched him a chair. Despite his winged mask twitching with apparent anxiety, Aleja remembered how easily one of the Principalities had snapped her wrist with his power. She nodded at them as she entered and took an empty seat next to Taddeas.

I think that’s supposed to be for Orla , whispered her voice.

She can tell me to get up, then. My feet hurt.

Power games? Really ?

Orla didn’t bother correcting whatever faux pas Aleja might have committed. She made her way to Bonnie’s side, the gold hoops in her ears bright against her hair. Orla nudged Bonnie’s ribs and when they smiled at each other, Aleja had to suppress a wave of envy.

Is she doing that on purpose? she asked the voice in her head.

Nope. You are just being childish. Pull yourself together.

Yes, mother , Aleja said, to which her inner voice did not give the dignity of a response.

“I have a question,” Val said, raising his index finger. “There is no way we could get closer to the Astraelis realm, could we?”

“No. Why would you ask that?” Nicolas said.

“Oh, no reason.”

“Out with it.”

Val folded his fingers in his lap. “The farther away we are from the camp, the more likely they are to notice her.”

“What?” Aleja and Violet snapped at the same time.

Val slowly untangled his fingers as if they had been in a complicated knot. “The Authorities have hive minds. They’re more likely to notice an intruder if they feel a presence that comes from a greater physical distance. But this should be fine. Really.”

Nicolas glanced at the librarians and when Red nodded, he dropped to the floor beside Violet. Aleja craned her neck to see over his shoulder. She recognized the bones Nicolas held—they belonged to the Authority that had risen out of the well.

“I’ll be able to pull you out at any time. All I need to do is take the bones out of your hand,” Nicolas told Violet.

The words hardly seemed to comfort her. Perhaps that was why Val felt compelled to speak again. “That’s partially true. I’m going to go with Violet. Otherwise, she won’t know what to look for.”

“That was not part of the deal. We’ll have no way of confirming that what she sees is real. Astraelis, if she doesn’t come out of this in one piece, it will be your fault. Once you harm one of my Saints, you’re an enemy combatant, not a war prisoner. I’m sure you can divine the rest for yourself,” Nicolas said, voice low and dangerous. His Knowing One voice. Aleja shifted in her chair as heat pooled in her stomach.

Gods, you need psychological help , said her voice.

“Believe me, I’ll be too busy trying to secure the connection that I couldn’t manage an illusion, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. Because I’m here. Helping you at the risk of my own life,” Val countered.

The final words were so condescending that even Taddeas scoffed. “Red, Gray, is that true?”

The librarian in gray settled on a volume as wide as he was tall. His eyes narrowed as he flipped through several pages before dropping the book to the ground so he and his partner could hover over it together.

“It’s true,” Gray said in a small voice, running his index finger across a line of shifting text. “Val will be exploiting a lingering connection in the bones to the hive mind, but it’s not dissimilar to the magic you use when scrying into the past. Those memories cannot be altered. The same principle should work here unless the Authorities themselves fabricate false thoughts, and we’re quite sure they’re incapable of that.”

“Is this going to be dangerous?” Aleja asked.

Violet looked exhausted, but still managed to wave her hand. “The process has already been explained to me. It’s fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Give me one of the bones. Hold the rest in your left hand. You’ll have to hold onto me with your right,” Val said. Aleja couldn’t tell if the sympathy in his voice was genuine, not when a mask covered his eyes. She wondered if Val had ever seen his mother’s face. If she had ever seen his.

Violet hesitated, but reached for Val. A shuddering breath moved through her, yet when Nicolas leaned in and whispered something, Violet did not react.

Aleja watched Violet’s stomach rise and fall with each breath. Silence spread through the tent, broken only by the occasional flutter of the librarians’ books. Nobody moved until Violet’s lower lip twitched in discomfort and the Dark Saints all leaned forward slightly.

“Oh,” Val said unprompted. “You’ve already slipped into their minds.”

Violet hesitated before answering. “I drank from an Unholy Well once. It contained a Remnant that… lodged in me for a while.”

Orla’s eyebrows raised, but Val seemed to take this information in stride. “Fascinating. That was what I sensed in you. It will make this splendidly easy.”

“Why?” Aleja interrupted. She was ignored.

“Tell us what you see,” Nicolas asked Violet.

“I think this is an Astraelis camp. There are winged lions, the ones you call Thrones, kept in enormous pens. It’s like I’m seeing through a lot of eyes at once. I can’t focus on anything.”

“You’re connected to the Authorities now. Their minds are such a jumble that they shouldn’t notice us if we’re careful. Try to keep your emotions steady,” Val said.

“What do I do?” Violet asked.

“Can you sense me?” Val replied.

“Maybe. There’s a glimmer at the corner of my eye like someone is reflecting light in a mirror.”

“Visualize approaching it. Then, I want you to think about death,” Val continued.

“Easy enough for me,” Violet told him, with a soft snort.

Aleja frowned, wondering if she should have volunteered to do this in Violet’s place to spare her friend another wound.

“Think about lying in a cool grave. Think about the animals that will eat your flesh, the buzzards that will crack your bones open, the worms that will slither in to devour whatever marrow is left. The Authorities must be aware of the Messenger’s intentions for the Third. You just need to find the right thoughts.”

“It’s like scrolling through a camera reel. All these memories, preserved and orderly,” Violet said.

“Good,” Val breathed. “I’ll stay back, lest your fellows accuse me of manipulating what you see. Dig deep and dig silently. See what you can find.”

Another silence followed.

“I know why they haven’t attacked,” Violet finally said in a tremulous voice. “There is no reason to fight us if they can kill the Second. It means no loss of life on their side. No destruction of their realm. One strike and they’ll be done with the Otherlanders forever. There’s so much hate here. It hurts .”

“Details, Violet. We need details,” Nicolas said.

Violet curled her hand around the bones, as if she meant to keep them. “They plan to lure the Third to them. They’ll have the means to trap him soon. The Authorities don’t know all the details—the Messenger doesn’t tell them—but Val… he was the mastermind behind the plan.”

Nicolas moved so quickly that Aleja hardly perceived the motion. The light in the room dimmed. His wings, which had been glamoured away, returned and filled the space with an additional layer of darkness.

“Wait, wait!” Val stammered. “It’s true, I’ll admit it. The army was pressuring me to produce results. I proposed what I did only because I thought it was purely theoretical . I never expected the Messenger to carry out the plan. Once I realized what she was capable of, I came here—I swear.”

“We know the Messenger is your mother. And since she believes you’re dead, I see no reason for her to be mistaken any longer. Taddeas, make sure our prisoner is properly bound,” Nicolas ordered.

“No!” Violet called out. “He’s telling the truth. The Authorities don’t trust Val. They’re glad he’s gone; they know they don’t need him. They already have a Dark Saint in captivity who can carry out his plans.”

“Merit. That’s why I couldn’t find him. I searched everywhere ,” Orla said. Soft concern crossed her features.

“Where is he?” Nicolas snapped in a voice sharp enough to cut through bone.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell…”

“She confirmed that I wasn’t lying, see? Now, pull Violet out,” Val said. “Much longer and they’ll realize she’s there.”

Violet’s fist clenched around the bones in her hand. “No. There’s more. If I just keep digging…”

“Listen to me, Knowing One. Authorities assimilate other minds. Get her out of there before they find her. They’ll see the consciousness of a lone woman wandering into their mind as a snack,” Val said.

“Why so eager? Afraid she’ll uncover more of your secrets?” Nicolas asked.

“Nic, please,” Aleja said. She hated the wobble in her voice, but not one of the Dark Saints looked at her. All had their eyes fixed on Violet.

Violet’s next words were garbled and made Aleja feel like a needle was slowly being driven into her ear. She clapped her hands around her head, but the sudden commotion in the tent could not be smothered.

Unable to swallow for all the dread in her chest, Aleja realized what was happening. Liam and Nicolas had both spoken this language to her, but that was before her first Trial, and the words had sounded like chaotic static.

The Astraelis language.

Nicolas reached for Violet’s hand as she tried to scramble away. It was no use. The tent was small and the Knowing One was vastly stronger and faster. The bones scattered across the ground and Violet glared up at him with fury in her eyes. “I could have found out more!”

“A hint of the Astraelis from the well must still exist within you; it let the connection flow both ways. I never should have let you do this,” he said.

“But—”

“ Enough . What happened stays in this room,” Nicolas said. “And, Violet, I’m sorry to have to do this, but you’re not to attend any more of our meetings until you’ve finished the Trials. I will provide information to you on a need-to-know basis.”

Garm jumped from Aleja’s lap as she shot to her feet before Violet could reply. She had a horrible feeling about what Violet was about to say, and though Aleja didn’t want to hear it, she wanted the Dark Saints to hear it even less. “You did good, Vi. You did really fucking good, but we have a Trial coming up. We both need to rest.”

Violet looked up. A dark, wild anger filled her eyes. Even back when Violet was possessed, she’d never glared at Aleja like this. Violet opened her mouth, but as her cheeks reddened, she turned away and her empty hands curled into the dirt floor.

Bonnie crouched down beside her. “Come on, you must be hungry. If you don’t feel like sleeping, you can help me distribute rations.”

Aleja breathed a sigh of relief when Violet left without argument. She knew what must be on the minds of the remaining Dark Saints. How could they trust Violet when she was tethered to the Astraelis by a thread? She wanted to make an argument in Violet’s favor, to explain that it wasn’t her fault she’d drunk the well water, but Orla lifted a hand to examine her bright yellow nails.

“The girl did better than I would have. One of the Authorities nearly swallowed me once, and I just about pissed myself. But, Val, let’s not get distracted, shall we?” Orla said.

“You heard the girl,” Val answered quickly. “She exonerated me. And I had no idea the Astraelis had captured one of your own. A smith is needed to craft chains that can hold the Third. The Astraelis couldn’t manage it, even with my research, but they must know that the Dark Saint of Sloth is a descendent of…”

Bonnie and Orla made brief eye contact, and Aleja was reminded of how much of her old life she couldn’t remember. Whatever realization the others had come to, she was not a part of it.

“And this?” Nicolas asked, pulling the small orb from an interior pocket of his tunic. It lit his face from below, making him look every bit the villain.

“Where did you get that?”

“I’m asking the questions, not you. If the next word out of your mouth isn’t an answer, you’re going to regret it. You’ve lied to us enough already.”

Garm growled, his teeth reflecting the orb’s light. Aleja half-expected it to sound ridiculous when coming out of a puppy’s body, but Garm was still a hellhound, and he definitely looked bigger than he had yesterday.

Val’s mask tightened as the wings drew closer to each other. “If I’d destroyed all my research before I left, they would have known I’d defected and come after me sooner. Everything was heavily warded with a code only I could break. But I couldn’t leave them all like that. It would look suspicious. So, I created some Luminariums, as we call them, containing… misleading information.”

“Information like what?” Orla asked.

“The Astraelis were never going to be able to catch the Third if they didn’t know how to get him to materialize,” Val answered. “Most of my false leads were meant to waste their time—especially claims that I’d discovered a link between the Third and his realm, like that between the Second and the Hiding Place.”

“That link doesn’t exist?” Aleja said.

“No. The Second created the Hiding Place; that’s why he and the Knowing One’s magic are inexorably tied to it. The Third did not make his realm. It is a spell woven by humans.”

“What do you mean?”

“Billions of humans over hundreds of thousands of years imagining the world of the dead. There is magic in that. All of it needed to go somewhere, and since it didn’t have a place for itself, it made one. Anyway, I purposefully picked a research assistant with no imagination whatsoever. He and the Messenger will run themselves ragged before they figure out how to get the Third’s attention. And if he can simply be convinced to stay away, all the Messenger’s plans will be useless,” Val said with a chuckle.

“Hold on. Why would the Messenger invest so much into a plan that can be derailed so easily?” Orla asked.

“You misunderstand me. Summoning him will not be an easy task, nor is he likely to listen to what we have to say. We—and by that, I mean the Astraelis and the Otherlanders—grow old, ancient even, but the Third is on another scale entirely. Make no mistake, the First, Second, and Third may not refer to themselves as gods, but there is no other word in our vocabulary that can capture the scope of their age and power. Trying to convince the Third to do anything we ask will be like trying to stop a storm by screaming at it.”

“So why does the Messenger think she can?” Nicolas asked.

Val’s mask shook in a way that made him appear embarrassed. “I did destroy that part of my research very thoroughly, but she might have an inkling I figured out how to do it.”

“Val,” Nicolas said in a warning tone.

“Oh, fine. It’s exceedingly simple. That’s why my mother and that fool will run themselves ragged before they figure it out. The Third is a psychopomp, ferrying the dead to their destinations, but it’s not as if he needs to be physically present when someone dies, any more than your Dark Saint of Gluttony needs to be in a field for the crops to grow.”

Aleja nearly corrected him—she was Bounty, not Gluttony—but Taddeas shot her a look.

“The Third can take a physical form, but he is usually elusive. The Astraelis will never catch him until they realize that the only way to get him to show is by making him so angry that he has no other choice.”

“How do you do that?” Orla asked.

“As I said, it’s ridiculously simple,” Val said. “All you have to do is?—”

“Prevent someone from dying,” Nicolas finished.

* * *