Chapter 106

Ultimately, if you shaved away at the edges of the thing, Katarina was a pain in the ass, Olivia considered as the ship heaved and tossed nauseatingly on the return trip to Darnell. Olivia had been quite happy with Merry, her mage maid. She didn’t have much talent, but it was enough for Olivia to keep more or less in constant communication with the Book of the Golden Lady, with her ability to apport notes to the Grand Cardinal, no matter where she was.

Katarina had indifferently killed her, however. A horrible inconvenience. Olivia would have to spend time running between her offices and the High Court, slowing down her work with the Ordo Hospitallers and their mission.

She could requisition a mage from the Miskatonik, but they’d be a complete stranger, and Olivia didn’t think she had time to winnow her way through whatever conflicted loyalties they may or may not have. Merry at least was a known quantity; a servant from a family that served the von Wolfes.

Merry had been a competent maid, and while she couldn’t do many of the sensitive tasks that were typically ascribed to a Lady Cardinal’s secretary by virtue of being a mage, she was able to handle correspondence, which was extremely useful.

Katarina’s first act upon reaching the Book of the Golden Lady had been to kill one of them. A monstrosity to be certain, but did it have to be so... she struggled to find the right word. Vulgar came to mind. It was an affront, an insult to the ruling governance of the Empire. It also set a dangerous precedent. Could anyone, should they feel so compelled, simply walk into the High Court and murder them?

The insolence was calculated. The insubordinate and arrogant attitude, premeditated. Katarina ignored summonses, killed whomever was inconvenient or an obstacle... and had been directly or indirectly responsible for the disposal of fully half of the Book of the Golden Lady, Grand Cardinal excluded. She was sort of a bitch.

Olivia realized she was snarling into her soup, and forced herself to stop. She was being unfair to the woman. Picking faults. She’d fallen in love with the woman, and the woman exploded into a nigh-apocalyptic fireball that’d scorched away priceless tapestries, shattered ten thousand fortunes’ worth of stained glass, and killed a sixth of the staff of the Alstroemeria in the process. She was gone, she was dead. She’d been an Apostle, a Living Saint, someone chosen by the very Goddess herself to champion Her cause... and she’d never shared anything with Olivia. Why didn’t Katarina trust her with that? Didn’t they love each other? Was there really a need for secrets between them?

Again, Olivia mentally kicked herself. Circular thinking. The stupid little homilies that the Confessors said, "We are only meant to see in part what the Goddess plans for us." didn’t do her any good, either. She had to find some way of reconciling herself to Katarina’s death.

She’d told Bianka that Katarina had "Ascended to the Goddess". There was no way she could in good conscience tell Bianka that her cartwheeling bitch of a daughter-

Olivia sighed irritably and ate her chowder. Losing Katarina had been traumatizing. Her mind gnawed at the wound like a rabbit, trying to find some way of recovering from it, including trying to find ways of casting Kat in a negative light. The truth was that Katarina was enigmatic, charismatic, teasing, occasionally vulnerable, at turns sophisticated and erudite and barbarous in her savagery.

Work. Olivia demanded of herself. Stop thinking about her and start thinking about your responsibilities.

The lamp that hung from a swivel bolted to the low ceiling swung as the ship heaved and tossed. It made both reading and writing difficult.

Her latest report (which was likely a week old) was that study of Katarina’s translations was underway. There were already calls for the books to be copied and disbursed to other temples. Katarina hadn’t made it that simple; her translations were copied into Tomes of Power. You couldn’t simply transcribe a Tome of Power. There was the basic written information, there was the underlying wisdom, and then, for those who were able to utilize the Tomes correctly, just holding the book would be enough to carve the secrets in the book into the heart. The common layperson wouldn’t be able to gain much from simply reading the words. There needed to be an understanding, a comprehension, and a willingness to abandon what the Empire had taught and begin wholly anew.

Some Clerics and priestesses were reclaiming powers once thought lost forever; actual clerical powers, true healing. They took to the new paradigm rather quickly; first you had to foster a relationship with the Goddess, and it was only after that point that you were granted specific prayers from Her that invoked her will. Somewhere along the line the message had gotten distorted. Paladins had a harder time of it; apparently the expectation was that they’d need to prove themselves through devotion and deeds in order to unlock their gifts. The Inquisition- well, who knew what went on with them? They might have unlocked some subset of the Goddess’ own power, but if they had, they weren’t telling.

Katarina had left a completely different Tome of Power for the Witch Hunters; those that were in the class she spoke at were likely being sent out on their survival training and wouldn’t be back for some time, if they came back at all.

That raised the question, however: How did Katarina get her hands on Tomes of Power? They were so rare and difficult to find, and yet she had found six blank Tomes and used them; five for the Emerald Tablets, one for the Witch Hunters. Creating Tomes of Power was supposedly a lost art, right?

A light knock on her door signaled the entrance of her maid. "Your Grace, we’ve arrived at the harbor."

The Shaper revealed a large wood and metal box, covered in scrollwork and bound in chains. He pulled a keyring from his pocket and unlocked several different locks, unwinding the chains carefully.

"Every Shaper dreams. Every Shaper who knows the art of crafting, who has worked with their hands in true application of their craft feels the call in his heart for the absolute best. For a blade that will never dull, for a join that will never buckle, for a gunbarrel that will never warp. The dream of steel keeps my apprentices enthralled." He gestured meaninglessly.

He opened the box and turned it towards Katarina.

"I’ve learned the steel, and so that dream no longer comes to me as it once had. But I lay sleeping one night, trying to bring your request to fruition, and a new dream came to me, and I knew the dream of steel to be false." He glanced around and carefully lifted the red velvet cloth, revealing the commissioned work. "I dream of something … more, now. I have spent valuable steel, hundreds of hours, and many a night locked away in the forge in secret to craft this." His voice roughened, and he cleared his throat abruptly.

He finished unwrapping the gun and Katarina caught her breath. Creamy mithril, chased in gold. The gun was a wonder. A beauty. It was indescribable. The words caught in the throat.

"I first had to learn the secret of mithril, and then I had to relearn the secret of the gun. This is the culmination of my lifes’ work. There is nothing more I can give." He gestured around him. "this, this is my apprentices work." He pointed to the gun on the counter. "This is my masterpiece. I can never work the steel again."

Katarina picked it up. The gun was very similar to the revolvers she’d seen earlier, but significantly lighter, about four pounds. The metal was creamy mithril, chased in golden baroque filigree.

"And this here?" Katarina asked, pointing to the line of script down the barrel. He smiled at her slightly.

"Surely you can read it yourself?" He challenged lightly.

‘I spare no one.’ she read, and she smiled a little.

The grip was blackwood, preserved from the stakes she’d collected, though the inlays had been replaced with gold. She fiddled with it for a moment, and then laughed self-embarrassedly. "I don’t know how to open it."

The Shaper took the gun and demonstrated disengaging the latch. The seven-inch barrel disgorged a six-chambered cylinder.

"The action on this is a little complicated." He explained, and pointed out the gap between the forward end of the cylinder and the barrel. "When you cock the gun-" he suited actions to words and thumbed the hammer down, "The cylinder rotates and locks into the barrel so there is no gap between cylinder and gunbarrel."

He pulled the trigger; the hammer snapped forward with a sharp click. He then let off the trigger, which released the cylinder from the gun.

"So to fire, you have to pull the hammer back to revolve the cylinder to the next shot." He explained. "This was a breakthrough for us. There’s an idea on the board to try and reciprocate the action so that all you have to do is pull the trigger, though we don’t have any idea yet how to implement such a thing." He gestured at her. "Come. There’s a test range beneath us."

He broke open the gun and slipped six cartridges in, and then demonstrated the process for her, then unloaded it, and handed it to her. She broke it open and thumbed the rounds into the chambers, and with a flick of her wrist snapped the cylinder closed.

The Shaper pointed out a mannequin at the far end of the basement range, and Katarina tried firing the gun. It had a magnificent kick and a jet of flame licked from the barrel once, startling her.

"Fantastic." She breathed, in awe of her new weapon. "Now teach me the Rites of Cleaning." she immediately urged, and he laughed.

"Of course." He replied, and they bent to their work.

The Shaper returned to his work upstairs while Katarina went through the rituals of breaking down her gun, cleaning it, and reassembling it. He’d left her a double dozen ammunition; she practiced thumbing back the hammer and then pulling the trigger, a completely different action than the Eagle’s talon, which had two triggers, one set in front of the other. The first trigger revolved the barrels, the second fired the gun. Now her gun had a different mechanism. Hammer, then trigger. It would take some time for her to get familiar with it. Still, six shots was twice what she could fire with the Eagle’s talon, the gun was much lighter, and far more accurate.

She set the Eagle’s Talon on the table in front of her, and using one of her tools, pried off the orichalcum inlay, revealing the splinter of mithril she knew to be inside.

How long had it been? More than a year, certainly.

"When you hear the names ‘Foe-hammer’, ‘Last Words’ and ‘Storm Falcon’, I want you to ask for ‘Serenity’ instead." Katarina quoted. She shook the piece of mithril out, which looked like perhaps a cat’s fang with golden inlays. She picked it up and bounced it on her palm thoughtfully.

"Simurgh." She called, but the Celestial Spirit of the Storm didn’t answer. "Im Adad." Katarina tried, but again received no response. She sighed in frustration. She closed her eyes, gathered her will, and spoke the truename. "ZIZ."

Simurgh was suddenly there as if she’d always been right beside her.

"We’re no longer chained to each other." Katarina began, and the Spirit of the Storm nodded.

"You followed my Master around because he’d found this." She held out the sliver of mithril towards the celestial, who nodded again, silently. "And because he passed his gun to me, you followed me." Simurgh nodded again.

"I have never tried to bind or control you." Katarina began, and she held out the piece of mithril to the Celestial. "The Goddess, for reasons I can’t remember anymore, chained you to me. Maybe it was your punishment, but maybe also because it allowed me to keep the Essence of Glory contained."

Simurgh continued to stare at the Witch Hunter, expressionless.

"You once told me to put this into Serenity." She gestured at the gun on the table, but she shook her head. "If I did that unthinkingly, I would be binding you, forcing you to accompany me because of this."

She offered it to the celestial. "I can put this into Serenity if you want to continue alongside me. We will hunt the enemies of the Goddess side by side once more." She paused, and then added, "Or I could return this to you. It’s yours, isn’t it?"

She dropped the mithril piece into Simurgh’s palm. "I will not bind you." She stated flatly.

The sliver was no longer a sliver, it was a long, curved horn nearly as long as Katarina’s leg, and just as thick at its widest part.

There was a long moment of silence between the two of them.

"This horn is meant to summon me, and bind me to the will of the one who sounds it." The celestial began. "The price of sounding a Horn is the forfeiture of your soul to me when you die." She added and grimaced. "A human made this thing, but it was under the instruction of Her." She spat softly. "That if in the last, desperate extreme, a human might work upon the world a miracle."

She eyed the horn in her hand.

"I have had only one hate, one fear; the thought of one of the execrable mortals impudently commanding me." She stopped again, and eyed Katarina’s face, then looked away, then back again.

"You... cannot give this to me." She finally stated. "It was meant for mortal hands to hold, for a mortal’s mouth to sound."

"You can’t even take possession of it?" Katarina asked, bewildered. Simurgh shook her head. "She would simply take it from me and cast it back into the world to be found."

Katarina touched the horn, ran a fingertip down its length. "Can it be destroyed?"

Simurgh shrugged indifferently.

"You want me to carry this, then." Katarina offered, and the Celestial of the Storm nodded. "What was it that thing said?" She asked curiously. "The world will shake with the thunder of this gun." She smiled. "I will shout my thunder at your foes, Katarina." And like that, as quickly as she arrived, Simurgh disappeared, and the horn, once again the size of a sliver, bounced once on the table and lay there.

Katarina let out a sigh.

She removed one of the blackwood inlays and used the point of her knife to carve a very small fragment of the wood away, allowing the miniature horn to fit into the gun, and then she reassembled it and holstered it on her thigh. The gun seemed to feel heavier now, but the difference in reality was negligible. It was just heavy with the burden of responsibility, of significance.

It was wholly possible that she could die at any point in her travels across the lands, slaying as her Goddess directed. The gun could fall out of her hands and be passed to another. There was no way to ease the Celestial’s burden except to shoulder that burden herself, and hope that when she died, someone equally worthy of Simurgh’s admiration would take up her weapon.

Katarina reflexively tried to check the time of day by looking at the sky; she found herself staring at the unrelieved stonework of the gun range ceiling. Her inner clock told her that it was just past midnight. She could snatch a nap in Olivia’s room if she were quick. She wasn’t certain where it was her lover had gone off to, but she’d been absent from the city for a couple of weeks.

Katarina had just about everything now. Her gun, a parcel of ammunition. A simple deception had worked on the drake handler; he didn’t know her as "the Living Saint Katarina"; she’d been able to complete her flight training. There was only- She shook her head. She wasn’t looking forward to that. But what had to be done, had to be done.

Olivia lay sprawled in her chair, head on her polished wooden desk amongst a nest of scattered paperwork, breathing evenly, asleep.

Katarina stood on the opposite side of the desk, watching her lover sleep. Katarina closed her eyes, and reached into herself. Once she’d been told, it seemed so easy. She opened her eyes and looked at Olivia. As she did, she let out a slow breath, the warmth of her love subsumed under the soothing balm of utter understanding.

Looking at the Lady Cardinal like this, she suddenly could understand everything about the other woman. The care, the worry. The overwhelming love that welled up from inside, tempered with reluctance, regret, guilt, and fear. Fear? She was afraid of Katarina. Afraid of, and for her. In Olivia’s eyes Katarina was an unstoppable, indomitable powerhouse of relentless inevitability. Strong and proud and gorgeous. In her mind, Katarina was like a statue, twenty feet tall, carved in perfect majesty and beautiful detail.

If that statue rampaged through the city, indifferently crushing things under rosy marble feet, Olivia would be just as awed by the glorious splendor and righteous authority... and just as terrified. She loved Katarina, but Katarina was so different from her, that she couldn’t help but be afraid. And yet, she loved Katarina anyway. There was no art, no malice in her for Katarina, only infinite love and desire and an aching sense of loss. Katarina felt herself smiling. She felt the same.

She scooped up the Lady Cardinal from her chair, stepped out of the office, unfurled her wings and launched herself up to the second floor of Olivia’s apartments, where her bedroom waited.

Olivia awoke to long, languorous kisses from her lover, Katarina. Olivia couldn’t get enough of the other woman. She was beautiful, she was perfect, she was simply wonderful in every way. The warmth between their two bodies was simply perfection.

She broke the kiss. "Kat-" She breathed, but the other woman wouldn’t have any of it, and kissed her again. There was no reason for Olivia to resist.

Kat was dead.

The thought was a icicle in her heart. She opened her eyes, expecting to see nothing but the empty canopy of the bed they’d once shared. Instead, she was buried in the silver-and-gold snowfall of Katarina’s hair that made a tent between the two of them.

"I’m dreaming." Olivia breathed raggedly, barely holding back a sob. It hurt so much to know her beloved was gone.

"Here." Katarina replied. She took one of Olivia’s hands and pressed it against the softness of her breast. "Feel that? That’s my heart." She whispered.

With a terrified shriek, Olivia bolted from the bed, arms and legs flailing as she scrambled for purchase. She hit a chair and stumbled over it, arm bent back behind her painfully. Katarina eased herself gracefully from the bed, practically radiant. She shook back her hair and eyed Olivia with a skeptical look.

"Not quite the reaction I was hoping, dear heart." She declared.

"You’re not her!" Olivia barked. "You’re- You’re a demon!" She screamed, and Katarina gave her an incredulous look.

"Honey, you’re a mess." Katarina replied. "Get up, and..." She trailed off. "Settle down." Her face turned serious. "I don’t have much time."

"I’m insane." Olivia decided, uprighting the chair and plunking herself down in it dully.

"You’ve certainly got the temper for it." Katarina quipped. "But you haven’t taken leave of your senses." She explained. "I don’t have the time to explain to you-" She trailed off and waved her hand. "I need you to listen to me, my love."

Olivia looked up at the other woman. "You’re really here?" She asked, and Katarina nodded.

"For now. I hate to say this, but I will not be able to stay long, however."

Olivia gave her a baffled look.

"You’ll see." Katarina returned cryptically. "Strange you’d think I was dead... though I admit I have been staying out late." She paused. "There’s just so much to do, and so little time to do it all in!" She complained quietly, pinching the bridge of her nose and letting out a sigh.

"Why did they brick up my rooms?" She asked Olivia, baffled. "And by the Goddess and all She holds dear, why in the world did you have to hang that picture where my door used to be?" She complained. "It’s hideous. I hate it." She grimaced in disgust.

"We... found your books." Olivia whispered.

Katarina looked up at her. "Oh. Uh, well," She paused. "Shit." She sat on the edge of the bed and kicked her feet against the carpet thoughtfully. "I suppose they tried to attaint me with treason and heresy for keeping them hidden."

Olivia shook her head. "You were posthumously Anointed and Blessed." She admitted. Katarina looked startled at this.

"Fuuuuuuuck." She replied, drawing out the word. "Even Celeste and Phoebe agreed? I thought that was something only a full Book could determine."

"Phoebe was stripped of titles, possessions, and position. She was exiled from Darnell a week ago."

Katarina gaped at her in open shock. "And Celeste?" She prompted, standing and stretching, arms over her head, hands linked together.

"We-" Olivia paused. "You’re really here, right? I’m not insane and babbling to myself, right?’ She asked, and Katarina nodded solemnly.

"We swore on the Emerald Tablets, as your translations indicated." She paused. "Celeste... didn’t make it."

Katarina blinked at that, but nodded. "You don’t need to say any more." She urged. "I’ve seen the effect the Tablets have on the faithless."

A surge of anger washed through Olivia. She was known and feared for her tempestuous explosions of fury. Olivia screamed and shoved the Witch Hunter back onto the bed, a furious expression darkening her face.

"You bitch!" She shrieked at Katarina. "You had these things all along, and you didn’t say a thing to me?"

Katarina rolled her eyes at this accusation. "When was I supposed to tell you?" She asked rhetorically.

Olivia screamed again and lunged at her. Katarina caught the other woman's hands easily. "Was I supposed to tell you when I was suspicious of everything you did?" She asked quietly. "Or when I loved you so much the telling would have broken your heart? When exactly was I supposed to tell you?" She asked gently.

"I hate you!" Olivia screamed. "You didn’t- You didn’t have to go and die!"

"I’m dead?" Katarina asked, and Olivia nodded. "I saw you climb into the brazier. I saw the flames consume you." She shook, the familiar tears flowing freely. "I made them- I tried- I tried so hard to put the flames out so we could..."

"Recover my remains?" Katarina prodded. Olivia nodded against Katarina’s chest.

"There’s nothing there, even if they could douse the flames." Katarina murmured, stroking Olivia’s head. "Which they can’t. It’s the Goddess’ own fire."

"Why did you do it?" Olivia sobbed in Katarina’s embrace.

"I was asked by the Golden Lady to bring the sacred Flame of Glory to the Cathedral." Katarina explained. "I was to give them the Books, and give them the Flame."

"And then what? Die?" Olivia mumbled.

"Oh, it’s not so scary, once you get used to it." Katarina replied lightly, and Olivia thumped Katarina on the back warningly. "Don’t be like that, Olivia." Katarina replied. "I’ve died a couple of times already. What’s one more?"

Olivia looked up at her, and Katarina laughed at her tear-streaked face.

"You died? Before?"

Katarina pulled a corner of the blanket and carefully wiped Olivia’s face.

"Once in Norn. That was partly my fault. Partly the fault of... whatever his name was. He used Crimson incense on me, but didn’t do anything to guide the trance." She smirked. "Who knew that left to its own devices the mind turns cannibal?" She made a face, crossing her eyes and sticking her tongue out. "So I died. I came back to life just before they wheeled me to the crematorium."

Olivia nodded. "We’d heard of it, but none of us believed it."

"The second time I died..." She began, but shook her head. "I slipped and fell and split my skull on an altar." She grimaced at that. "A pointless, meaningless way to die. But I was brought back." She paused. "I was brought back to quest for the Golden Lady."

"And now you’re dead again." Olivia explained. Katarina smirked at her again.

"You’re not getting enough sleep, love." She murmured. "You need to be well-rested."

"I’m dreaming, aren’t I?" Olivia replied sourly.

"Get into bed here with me." Katarina commanded gently. Olivia slipped into bed. "Please don’t leave me, Kat. I miss you so much."

Katarina leaned down and kissed the other woman affectionately. "Close your eyes." She urged, and Olivia shook her head. "No! You’ll leave! I’ll wake up and this’ll be a bad dream and you’ll still be gone!" She cried.

"Shhh." Katarina replied, and kissed Olivia again. "You think falling asleep with me in a dream is a terrible dream?" She asked, a chuckle in her voice.

"It is when I have to wake to find you gone." Olivia pouted.

"If the Golden Lady wills it, I will return to you." Katarina replied, infinitely kind. "Close your eyes, beloved."

Olivia obediently closed her eyes. Katarina eased herself down onto the bed next to her and stroked the woman’s face.

When Olivia awoke the next morning, It was as if she’d had a month of the best sleep ever. Her heart nearly burst with happiness at the sight of Katarina laying next to her, hair fanned out in a spray of silver and gold.