Likely. What else would make the door so angry?
It’s a door. It doesn’t get angry.
That’s what you think.
I was so lost in thought that I did not see the Inquisitor or the Hand of Justice cross through the door.
When I looked up again, it was just the Majester General and me left to go through. On the other side, the Inquisitor had already begun to descend the stairs and only the crown of his white head was still visible.
“Well?” the Majester General barked as though he thought I was one of his recruits.
“Well, yourself,” I said, rearranging my stance from ready to casual. I didn’t take orders well. It was basically a precept for Vagabonds.
They don’t understand that we’re blown by the wind and the will of the God. We aren’t subject to their schedules or rules.
The Majester scowled. “It’s just the two of us out here. You can cease with your displaying. It makes you look like a barnyard rooster, so pleased with the arrangement of his feathers that he does not see the chop.”
I looked insolently at him and then flicked my gaze to the Engineers.
“Just the two of us?” I pressed. “Do Engineers suddenly cease to count?”
Stop antagonizing him, sweetmeat.
The snickering of the Holy Engineers was echoed by the snickering of the demon in my mind.
“The Majester only sees people who listen to his orders,” Sir Sorken whisper-yelled to me.
“Then I suppose there’s no one left for him to see here at all.” I combed fingers through my hair, feigning ease.
The Majester huffed, spun, and with parchment still in hand, strode straight into the door with the word, “Gluttony” spoken so loudly that it seemed to echo off every rock and wall.
Ugh.
He twisted as he stepped through — shifting before my eyes from a strong, straight-backed man to a crooked-spined shadow of himself.
I took a hesitant step forward.
“You don’t have to go through the door,” Sir Sorken said, leaning back on his golem — was this one Cleft or Suture? I couldn’t quite remember.
You do. You must.
Whoever was speaking in my mind now sounded panicked.
For duty.
For honor.
For Sainthood.
Wow. That was a lot of ambition pouring out of one dog. I gave him a long look. I should leave him here. But what if the demon leapt from the dog to Sir Sorken or Sir Coriand? I’d killed one paladin when I couldn’t oust the infestation. Did I have the heart to murder a second time?
You must. If the hellion leaps again, you must be quick. You must be sure. I wish I could banish him myself.
I sighed.
“Come on, Brindle,” I said unhappily. Unlike the others, I shouldered the bag containing my worldly possessions, grabbed the dog by his scruff, and strode to the door, stopped right before it, shook myself, and then entered.
“Doubt,” I whispered as I stepped through.
