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"Ten thousand charns seems a bit steep for assault," she said, leaning back in her chair. "No, I think they want you for another reason."
I looked down. How much should I tell her? Even if I knew I could trust her, I'd be risking her life by sharing information she shouldn't know.
"Let's just say I have intimate knowledge of a few skeletons in the Troika's closet," I said.
"Oh, I bet you do." Her lips twitched. "So they made up the code violation then?"
"Not necessarily." I didn't elaborate. I crossed my arms to let her know that was all I had to say about the matter.
"Fair enough," she said. "I suppose you've already guessed that a crowd of Troika guards have gathered outside?"
"I figured as much."
"You got a plan?"
"Run like hell."
"In other words, you've got no plan at all." She leaned forward with her elbows on the desk. If she hadn't been wearing the robes of a holy order, her expression would have reminded me of a conspirator. "Lucky for you, I do."
Three.
The Chatelaine walked ahead of me down a musty corridor hidden behind one of the tapestries in her office.
"Are you sure the Troika doesn't know about these tunnels?" I asked.
"The Troika's influence ends at my door. They may control everyone else, but they're too superstitious to screw with the keepers of the sacred knowledge."
"You sure don't talk like a religious leader."
She turned to look at me, a wicked smile on her face. "I wasn't always a Sister of Crimson. It was only after the war killed my family that I took the blood vows. Before that, I led a somewhat more ... dissolute existence."
"Like what?"
"Even the holy have secrets, child." She winked and held the torch higher. "Things get tight through here. Watch your head."
We walked a bit farther in silence. But I had questions and if I didn't ask them now, I might not have a chance. "Aren't you worried about what will happen when I don't walk out by the deadline?"
"The twenty-four hour thing is more of a self-imposed rule. Our leaders instated it when some of our guests began overstaying their welcome. The Troika has no say in our laws, so long as we continue to absolve them of their sins they leave us alone."
"Why are you helping me?"
She stopped and turned awkwardly in the narrow space. "Look, don't misunderstand. I'm not in the business of liberating all fugitives who seek our aid. My priority is protecting my Sanguinary and my acolytes. If you have information that can hurt the Troika, I'm damned well going to help you get it out there. Many of us want things to return like they were before the Troika took over."
"How do you know I'm not lying about having information on them?"
She looked me in the eyes, and an emotion I couldn't name overcame me. Something unfamiliar, yet powerful. I couldn't put my finger on it.
"Don't let my coarse talk and practical manner fool you, child. I am a believer. And I believe the goddess put you on my doorstep for a reason. It is not my place to question this. It is my duty to follow my gut and further Her plans." The light in her eyes suddenly made sense to me.
Sister Agrippa had faith.
I only believed in three things: my right fist, my left fist, and my gut. The vein of mysticism running through the Troika's top echelons made me uneasy. But if the sister's belief in the divine was the reason she was helping me, I wasn't going to refuse.
"Besides," she continued, "I knew your mother." She walked ahead, leaving me slack-jawed. I sped to catch up.
"You did?"
The Chatelaine cleared a cobweb that spanned the width of the tunnel. "Long ago. Before the wars."
