"'SAY NOTHIN', DIOR,' the clanswoman warned.
"'I'd no plans to, Saoirse,' the boy replied, scowling at me.
"'Sister, are you aright?' The young soothsinger knelt at Chloe's side. 'Is it deep?'
"'It's fine, Bellamy,' she replied, lifting her blood-soaked sleeve. 'A scratch.'
"One glance told me the wound was anything but. Chloe's bicep was bleeding from a vicious bite, skin already bruising from that monster's unholy strength.
"'Wretched mouths are rife with rot,' I said. 'That'll fester if we don't treat it. I've some kingshield and gut in my saddlebags. Strong spirits too.'
"Dior dragged on his smoke. 'We'd hate to part you from your revels, hero.'
"'It's medicinal alcohol, boy. You'd have to be thick as pigshit to drink it.'
"'You just leave the door wide open, don't you?'
"'Look, who the fuck are you?'
"'Perhaps introductions can wait?' Chloe winced, waving at the storm and carnage about us. 'Stench of dismembered corpses notwithstanding, it's getting worse out here.'
"'A brave woman enjoys the wild's kiss on her skin, Sister,' the slayer said.
"'And a wise man knows to come in from the rain,' the priest smiled.
"The soothsinger nodded to the ruined tower. 'Let's shelter inside.'
"The company gathered their possessions, the rake helping Chloe stand while I went to fetch Jezebel. I found the mare a few hundred yards away, standing in the lee of a naked elm. I gave her a soft pat and a thorough looking over, but luckily, she seemed none the worse for wear. And taking her reins, I led her back to the tower.
"I got a better look at the ruin as I approached—three stories high, dark stone, crowned with broken battlements. The walls were crawling with old lichen and new fungus, the mortar crumbling to dust. It'd stood for centuries, mostlike—built by Sūdhaemis back when Elidaen was still five feuding kingdoms, and San Michon began her crusade to bring the One Faith to every corner of the land.
"The company was gathered within, sheltered from the rain as best they could. The slayer glowered in the shadows, twin interwoven lines inked down her brow and right cheek, clawing the braided hair from her face as that she-lion curled about her feet. Dior was brushing the snow from his fine stolen coat. The priest and rake gathered around Chloe, cleaning her bloodied arm. I shooed the pair away, knelt beside my old friend, placing a small bottle of pure spirits and a phial of pale yellow powder on the stone.
"'This'll burn like a strumpet's nethers when the fleet is in town,' I warned. 'But it's a fucksight better than gangrene.'
"'Merci, mon ami,' Chloe nodded.
"I set about the wound, my hands quick and sure, washing and sterilizing as Chloe hissed in soft agony. 'Right, so who are you lot? Aside from a lodestone for the Dead?'
"'F-friends,' Chloe winced.
"'Chosen,' the slayer replied.
"'Believers,' the priest murmured.
"'Oh, Seven Martyrs save me,' I sighed.
"'My name is Bellamy Bouchette,' the young rake declared with a small bow. 'Soothsinger, adventurer, lover of women, and songsmith to emperors.' He flipped damp brown curls from sparkling blue eyes. 'A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Silversaint. I've heard your exploits sung all the way from Asheve to the shores of the Mothersea. I fear your legend does your reality … no justice at all.'
"Oui, I thought to myself. Definitely a wanker.
"'This is good Père Rafa Sa-Araki,' Bellamy said, nodding to the Sūdhaemi priest. 'Scholar, astrologer, and devout member of the Order of San Guillaume. Never was there a man under heaven more in need of having his lute professionally strummed, but he's a splendid fellow beneath the repression, really.'
"The old priest spoke with a voice that would've sounded like music on any pulpit in the land. 'My thanks for your aid, Chevalier. Seven Martyrs bless you.'
"'Our resident butcher, baker, and candlestick maker,' Bellamy said, waving to the Ossian lass. 'Mlle Saoirse á Rígan. She's terrible at baking and candles, by the by, but her skill at butchery more than makes up for it. Her four-legged companion there is Phoebe. I'd advise against trying to pat the little scamp if you're at all fond of your fingers.'
"The lass just stared at me, hands on her axe, while the lioness licked her chops.
"'Our good Sœur Sauvage, you already know,' Bellamy continued. 'Which leaves the youngest of our band.' The soothsinger waved to the ashen-haired boy. 'Gabriel de León, may I present Dior Lachance, Prince of Thieves, Lord of Liars, and incorrigible little bastard.'
"'You forgot whoreson,' the boy muttered around his smoke.
"'Dior, a gentleman never refers to a lady plying honest trade as a whore.'
"'My mother was no lady. And you're no gentleman, Bellamy.'
"'You wound me, monsieur,' the fellow grinned, tipping his idiotic hat.
"I finished cleaning Chloe's wound, a steel needle between my teeth as I fetched my spool of gut. 'So now I've your names. But I still don't know who the fuck you are.' I cast my eyes over the group, settling at last on the boy. 'You in particular.'
"'I'm no one special.'
"'Is that so?' I looked to Chloe, hoping to slice through the bullshit. 'Someone came to Dhahaeth looking for Monsieur Nobody Special after you left. And they'd have run through that town like a dose of the scratch if I hadn't been there to stop them.'
"'I told ye.' Saoirse glanced around the group. 'Phoebe could smell them miles away. We've had coldbloods on our trail since Lashaame.'
"'This wasn't just a coldblood,' I replied. 'This was Danton Voss.'
"'… Who?'
"'Sweet Mothermaid, you lackwits have no fucking idea what you're doing, do you?'
"'Mind yer tongue, Silversaint,' the lass spat.
"'Danton Voss is the youngest heir of Fabién. A direct descendant of the most powerful vampire that walks this earth. If the Forever King wants someone found, Danton is the child he sends, and he's not failed his father yet.' I glowered at Chloe as I began stitching her bleeding arm. 'You want to tell me what you did to make the Forever King set his most faithful bloodhound on your tail?'
"'Seven Martyrs.' Chloe made the sign of the wheel. 'The Beast of Vellene.'
"'I saw him off,' I said, still scarcely believing it. 'But only because he came to those walls during the day and found me instead of you. Why would a creature as old as Danton risk himself like that, Chloe? Is it this Grail nonsense you were spitting last night?'
"The group looked at Chloe, aghast.
"'Ye told him?' Saoirse hissed.
"'Not everything.' Chloe glanced about the company, wincing as I stitched. 'But Gabe was the man who put me on this path to begin with. Years ago. And God brought him to us for a reason. He's the greatest swordsman of the Silver Order who ever lived.'
"'Fat lot of good swordsmen o' the Silver Order have done ye so far, Sister.'
"'We need him, Saoirse.'
"'Why?'
"'Because the Beast will be back. And next time, he'll come at night.'
"'What does Voss want with this boy?' I demanded. 'It's sure as shit got naught to do with children's tales.'
"'The Grail is no children's tale, Silversaint,' Père Rafa said, cleaning the muck from his spectacles. 'From holy cup comes holy light; the faithful hand sets world aright. And in the Seven Martyrs' sight, mere man shall end this endless night.'
"I glanced at Chloe. 'We're spouting shitty poetry now?'
"''Tis no mere poem,' the priest said.
"'It's a prophecy, Gabe,' Chloe said. 'The Forever King. The Endless Legion. Daysdeath. The Grail can put an end to all of it.'
"'This isn't one of your library books, Chloe. I thought you'd have outgrown that shite by now. One of you mad fucks best start talking straight-wise.'
"'The cup of the Redeemer's blood can end this darkness,' the priest insisted.
"'Bullshit,' I spat. 'The cup has been lost for centuries! And even if you had it, there's ten thousand Dead amassing north of Augustin. Nordlund's gone. North of the Dílaenn, the bloodlords have torn the empire to ribbons! How is a fucking cup supposed to fix that?'
"'Because it holds the Redeemer's blood. God's own son, who died upon the whe—'
"'Spare me, god-botherer.'
"'Gabriel, ask yourself this,' Chloe said. 'If the Grail is such nonsense, if the prophecy such rot, why has the Forever King got his son chasing us?'
"'I don't fucking know! What's the Grail to do with any of you?'
"'He knows where it is.'
"I looked to the slayer, who was watching me like a hawk watches a hare. Her strawberry-blonde braids hung about her eyes as she stared me down, her gaze finally flickering to Dior as the snow danced in the air outside.
"'The bairn,' she said. 'He knows where it is.'
"I looked at the lad. Dior cast an accusing glare at the slayer, then at Chloe.
"'You know where the Grail is?' I demanded.
"The boy shrugged, blowing a plume of thin grey smoke from his lips.
"'The silver chalice of San Michon,' I scoffed. 'The cup the Crusaders carried before them as they fought the Wars of the Faith, and forged the five kingdoms into one empire.'
"The boy crushed his traproot cigarelle underheel. 'So the Testaments say.'
"'He's full of shit,' I spat, glowering at Chloe.
"'No, Gabe.' Chloe winced as I wrapped her wound. 'He knows where the Grail is. And the Forever King knows he knows. Why else would the Beast of Vellene be hunting us?'
"I stared at the boy, thoughts at war in my head. This seemed the darkest shade of lunacy. The kind of rot that pulpit-riders feed children when they're scared of the night. There was no magik spell, no holy prophecy that would bring an end to this darkness. This was our here and our now and our forever.
"But apparently Fabién Voss believed. And if the Forever King was desperate enough to send his own children to hunt this boy …
"Chloe stood with a grimace, flexing her bandaged arm, whispering thanks. And taking my hand gently, she drew me away so the others might not hear.
"'This is a fool's errand, Chloe Sauvage.'
"'Then call me a fool, Gabriel de León.'
"'I'll call you that and more. Where do you plan to lead this pageant of fuckarsery?'
"'San Michon.'
"'San Michon? Have you taken leave of your senses? You're taking these fucking children into the Nordlund? You're never going to reach the monastery before wintersdeep sets in. Danton is going to find you, and when he does—'
"'I need you, Gabriel. I told you, it's not by accident we met again. For us to find each other after all these years, in the midst of all this dark … you have to see the hand of the Almighty at work here, you—'
"'Fucksakes, give it a rest, Chloe. You've been bleating the same tune since Astrid dragged you into that Library seventeen years ago.'
"Her scowl darkened. 'I wish to God she was here, then. Azzie could always make your pigheaded, dim-witted, pretty-boy arse see sense.'
"I chuckled at the insults, despite myself. Scratching ruefully at my chin. 'Making her husband see sense is the lot of every bride, it seems.'
"Chloe's eyes widened. 'You're … married?'
"I lifted my hand to show the silver troth ring on my finger. 'Eleven years.'
"'Oh, Gabriel,' she whispered. '… Children?'
"I nodded, eyes shining. 'A daughter.'
"'Sweet Redeemer.' Chloe's blood-slicked hands slipped into my own. 'Oh, merciful God in heaven, I'm so happy for you both, Gabe.'
"I could see pure joy in her smile then. The kind of joy only the truest of friends feel, to learn their friends have found joy also. Her eyes brimmed with tears. And I remembered what a good heart she had, Chloe Sauvage. Better than mine ever was.
"And then her smile slowly died. Her shoulders slumped, and she looked over her little band, bloodied and alone in the dark. I could see the road ahead in her eyes. The wartorn wastes of the Ossway. The barren hell of Nordlund beyond. The growing sea of darkness in which humanity's light guttered like a candle, soon to be extinguished entirely.
"Chloe hung her head. 'I can't ask you to risk all that.'
"She released her grip, my tattooed hands falling away from her own.
"'Tell Azzie hullo for me. Tell her … tell her I'm happy for her.' Chloe sniffed and swallowed thickly, damp curls tumbling about freckled cheeks. 'Adieu, mon ami.'
"And she turned to walk away.
"'… Chloe.'
"She looked back at me, eyebrow raised. I opened my mouth to speak, not knowing yet what I'd say. And it seemed for a moment that everything stood poised on the edge of a knife. Those moments happen only once or twice in a lifetime. I could see two paths, either side of the blade. One where I helped this old friend of mine. And one where I left her to die.
"'… I can ride with you awhile. See you to the Volta, at least.'
"'I can't ask you to do that, Gabe.'
"'You didn't ask. Which is why I'm offering.' I glanced around the ragged company, eyes settling on Dior. 'Who am I to stand in the way of divine providence?'
"'But Astrid … Your daughter…'
"'They'll understand. I'll be back with them soon enough.'
"I saw my words sink in, Chloe's chest caving, all the weight she'd been carrying lifted from her shoulders. A sob slipped over her lips, smothered at once by a fierce grin. She threw her arms around my shoulders, so short she had to take a running leap. I tried not to laugh as she squeezed me tight, smooshed her lips to my cheek.
"'You're a good man, Gabriel de León.'
"'I'm a bastard, is what I am. Now stop kissing me. You're a nun for fucksakes.'
"Chloe released her embrace. But still, she gave my hand one last squeeze, and all the light and life was shining once more in her eyes, just like when we were young. She looked up at the ceiling of that broken tower, tears spilling down her cheeks. And she put her hand to the sevenstar around her throat and whispered, 'Almighty God be praised.'
"I could see her joy, the relief of faith rewarded, and that faith itself, undimmed by toil or time. And for the briefest moment, I envied her more than anyone I'd ever met.
"'What's her name?'
"'Eh?'
"'Your daughter,' Chloe urged. 'What's her name?'
"I breathed deep, running my thumb over my knuckles.
"'Patience.'"