I was reasonably sure it was realizing he’d aided a devil that had done him in.
You could try to pretend to be an innocent victim of my malevolence. That might be cute.
I was an innocent victim.
The demon’s laughter rang through my mind.
You are all complicit in deeds that mock you and ruin you, like puppets danced into a fire making flowery bows and curtseys all the way into the inferno.
Saints bless it. I’d lost him, then. Barely had him for a moment and then lost him. Somehow it felt worse than anything else so far. It twisted and wrenched inside me as if I had swallowed a brick and it was making its way through my insides, the corners of it catching as it went.
I stood abruptly just as Hefertus came running at full speed straight through the cluster of paladins praying. He took in Adalbrand’s prone form and my stricken face and then uttered a foul curse.
I nodded my agreement as our mouths twisted into matching frowns.
“What did he do?”
“He healed my dog. And learned something he didn’t like,” I said grimly. The one nice thing about Sir Hefertus was that he didn’t bother with niceties or feelings. I didn’t need to spare him.
He grunted. “Fool. That could have waited.”
I nodded but I hovered over Adalbrand, not sure how to help him.
“Marvelous work, Prince Paladin!” Sir Sorken boomed out, striding toward us.
Prayers had ended — probably thanks to Hefertus scattering the other paladins like a dog running through a flock of pigeons. There was a note of tension in the room.
“Do we look at the new puzzle to twist the room next, or do we go straight to the next challenge for the cup?” Sir Owalan asked, bouncing from foot to foot. Either he did not notice Adalbrand had passed out or he did not care. “Maybe we can just keep turning it and forget the challenge entirely. We’d get out that way, right? And we could try again later.”
“I rather think not,” Sir Coriand said, with a cheerful smile. “The challenges are there for a reason and they must be completed. Our cups are only partially filled. Do you want to find the Cup of Tears? Then we must fill them entirely. You’ve read the words written here. ‘Our hearts spoke out our hopes and our souls bore the cost, the man and the spirit and all that was lost. Bold together we race where no others have trod, for we are more than men, we have become Saints. Choose now holy vessel. Be careful, be clear, for the bones of others will root out your fear, wash your cup with sorrow, bathe your vessel with blood, but choose your gift wisely, be it fire or mud.’ Likely, we will find the next stanza of this verse at our next station, and if you want the Cup of Tears, then we must follow it, or fail.”
“No,” I said quietly, and very deliberately, I stood over Adalbrand’s body, facing the others. They drew together in the stained light, a flock of shrieking crows, a gaggle of squabbling gulls. I hated them in that moment for their self-serving heartlessness.
Oooh. Look who likes to defy authority.
Sir Coriand shed his cheerful, dreamy-eyed exterior like a snake sheds its skin. It made him seem to grow before me; certainly his shadow swelled.
“I’m afraid no is not an option, Beggar. We have come for the cup. We will receive it. And you have no choice but to go with us on this quest.”
“There’s always a choice,” I said quietly, and I drew my sword.
Oh, the sweet drama! Trouble in the ranks, holy against holy, it makes my shriveled heart sing! Fight, rip, tear, little snack!
Sir Coriand stepped forward quietly but his eyes were fixed on mine and I felt a thrill of fear settle down my spine. Who was this Engineer really? Behind him, his bone-and-rag golem shifted, reminding me that in any fight, it was not the elderly knight I’d battle but his massive creation.
He lifted two fingers in a mockery of blessing and said, “Those of you unwilling to give up the quest before we’ve even begun should go now.”
Did his fellow Engineer have nothing to say to that? I shot him a glance.
“Yes, yes,” Sir Sorken said, still wearing the skin of cheerful acquiescence. His eyes held a glimmer I did not like. “Right you are, come along, brothers. This way.”
He strode down the well-worn path toward the clock and the open room, not even glancing back, and without a word, the High Saint and the Penitent followed. The Majester sent one shivery glance backward and then he followed, too. They stalked off like four cats — not quite wanting to walk together but headed in the same direction all the same.
“Sir Hefertus?” Sir Coriand asked quietly as the others disappeared from view.
“The fountain is still working. That’s a good thing, right?” I heard Sir Owalan saying. Already his voice was distant.
“If the Vagabond has doubts, then I have them too,” Hefertus said, shooting a glance at me that practically screamed, “What are we doing?”
