Peculiar Soul

Chapter 125: Pieces of Reality

Chapter 125: Pieces of Reality

It is held that souls are greater than man, for obvious reasons. Their power is beyond that of a man, and the wisdom gained from them is more than a lifetime of study could hope to achieve. There is disagreement on this point, however, as others say that the man is the greater part of their joining. No soul ever acts upon the world unaided; they cannot be said to exceed man any more than a sword or plough.

This argument contains the seed of truth, albeit evoked for the wrong reasons. A man, with nothing more than his flesh and bone, may carve the mark of himself upon the world. He may be a holy man, a man of purpose, and give rise to a bountiful family with their own joys and burdens. Yet that same man, possessed of a soul, might forsake all that to accomplish incredible feats. He may vanquish armies, fill granaries or sway the hearts of a nation.

There is little stopping this man from living the life he might otherwise have led. He could have his humility and his family despite his soul. Yet that soul lights a new path ahead, one that stretches far beyond the mundane. Men cannot help but hear the call of its wild distance.

- Saleh Taskin, On Reclamation, 687

As promised, the train arrived in Imes well before sunset. The afternoon light was golden with the promise of red, which struck Michael as appropriate for the circumstance. The outskirts of Imes were sprawling, industrial, and for all that the War had visited here it had not made its mark on the western reaches of the city; the fighting had confined itself mostly to the east, ending in their battle near the city center.

The western parts of the city were therefore the first to resume business as usual, and they had done so on the backs of hundreds of refugees eager for the presumed safety of the capital, or for the promise of wages earned less perilously than the War had offered. Either way, Imes was overflowing with loosely-situated bodies under a pall of chimney smoke.

It reminded Michael of Calmharbor. He sighed and leaned back in his seat as the train lurched its way towards the terminus. They dont waste time, he muttered. Weve barely been gone at all, and I could swear this is a different city than the one we left.

Sobriquet waved her hand dismissively. This part has barely changed. They were back in business as soon as Emil auctioned off what the Safid abandoned, usually to their old employees. Some of them stayed under Safid owners, actually, but those are the ones who chose their money over living in Saf - people we can negotiate reasonable compromises with, in short. She kept her face towards the city, her eyes tracing past soot-smudged windows and tenements with laundry flapping listlessly from their windows. People are proud of what theyve built.

Michael heard the bitter note still lurking in her voice; he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Imes is a long way from the western border, he said. Even Rouns wont be under threat for some time. Were a far way from hopeless.

She found a smile for that, leaning in close before a light knock sounded on the door; it slid open to reveal Vernon. Sobriquet turned to him with mock affront. You didnt even wait. We could be indecent in here.

Vernon tapped his ear. I usually dont walk into anything by accident, he chuckled. Youd have been interrupted in short order regardless; were nearly at the station.

Where are we going from there? Michael asked. Lekubarri said that theyve been monitoring Sofia as best as they could; is there a zuzendaritza contact were meeting?

Vernon shook his head. Nothing so formal. Lekubarris men think shes here for a very specific purpose; Vera Reuss still keeps a flat near the port district. Weve had eyes on her for a while, but nothing too intrusive. Shes the only contact Sibyl has left.

They dont get along as well these days, Michael sighed. But yes, it makes sense to check there. Even if we dont find Sofia, I owe Vera a visit. For - a few reasons. He flexed his hand, letting a sliver of blade dance between his fingers. She knows Sofia better than anyone.

Vernon nodded, patting Michael on the shoulder. I wired ahead to Emil, so hell be on standby if we need anything - or, rather, whichever poor functionary hes tapped to liaise with us will be available. He grinned. Powers gone to his head.

Doesnt really seem that different from his usual manner, Michael grunted. He stood from his bench as the trains brakes engaged, a low shudder gripping the carriage as its momentum slowed. We should be ready to go. Are the others ready?

Already waiting, Sobriquet said absently; her eyes were glassy, elsewhere. But theres no rush. Sibyl isnt at Veras flat. Unless Im mistaken, shes not in Imes at all. She turned to look at Michael. And neither is Vera.

Veras flat was midway between the train station and the port, a fairly ideal circumstance; Michael wasnt surprised that Vera had selected it with some consideration for eventual property value. The neighborhood was pleasant and clean, with plenty of large trees - likely a wonderful sight in summer, but right now the twilight canopy of grasping and bare twigs gave the street an ominous look.

More ominous still were the darkened windows and drawn curtains of the flat; Michael sliced cleanly through the doors bolt and walked inside. It was a mess, with drawers and cabinets ajar, their contents strewn across the floor. They picked their way into the foyer, pausing at a large table that occupied one end of the room. There was an envelope there with Michaels name inked in precise handwriting upon the exterior.

Michael picked it up and withdrew the single piece of paper inside, unfolding it to reveal more of Veras handwriting.

Michael, it read.

Unimportance is a difficult pursuit. I had resolved to seek it here, and would do so gladly if not for an opportunity that my conscience cannot permit me to let pass.

There may be a path forward for my dearest friend.

I shall endeavor, therefore, to save her life as she once saved mine. She has not borne the burden of my absence well, nor the presence of her bereaved cousin. Her burdensome soul torments her with visions of what she has inflicted, and with the consequences of her spite; her sight and mind are so degraded by this torture that I have little fear of her reading this letter.

There is only one place where she might begin to heal. Please consider this your second invitation to dinner.

Forever in your debt,

Vera Reuss

P.S. - Please apologise to Lars on my behalf for the theft of his vessel; I shall make it up to him with interest at a later date.

Michael read through the letter once, then again, his heart clenching at the postscript. Finally, he handed the paper to Sobriquet. Her brows drew together as she read it. Vague, she said.

Specific enough; shes told us where theyre going. Michael tapped his finger against the paper. Raven House, in Calmharbor. Its her refuge, where she retreated from the world - and where she served me dinner once, hence the reference.

She gave him a skeptical look. You think Vera can steer Sibyl there?

She is a Shine, Michael said. Although I very much doubt shed use her soul on Sofia. Its a logical first place to look for her.

Sobriquet made a face. In Ardalt. Michael, thats going to take days, not to mention the return trip - and thats at a minimum, to say nothing of any delays in locating her once were there.

We knew it was a possibility from the start. He glanced through the letter once more, his eyes lingering on the line that was set apart from the others. There may be a path forward for my dearest friend. He thought back on his last conversations with Vera, and his frown deepened. If I didnt know she was a Shine, Id suspect her of being an auspex, he muttered.

Yet youre still going to do it, Vernon noted.

Michael nodded slowly. Have to.

You really dont, you know. Theres nothing that says you cant take your souls and go find some pleasant island. Something far away from the storm and anyone who wants to bother you. Vernon tapped the railing lightly, finding another rhythm against the metal. But you wont do that, because humanity isnt about how you see or hear, or if youre able to get a full nights sleep. You will be fine, Michael. You may not be the same, but youll be fine.

Your confidence is inspiring. Michael let the silence drag out; Vernon gave his shoulder a squeeze before turning and padding back across the deck towards the cabin.

Their transit of the Cauldron Sea was quick and uneventful, bringing them within sight of the Ardan coast before the end of their second day, leaving them to spend a tense night navigating around the coast. They stayed far from the shore for fear of rocks and patrols, though they saw neither. In fact, the interior was dark as they passed, devoid of light and motion even where Michael thought there must be a city or port. Every so often he thought he saw the flickering light of fires or lamps, but the faint blazes were gone before he could truly train his sight on them.

By the time the sea brightened from the inky black of night, they were at the mouth of the Iron Bay. This was where Michael had been sure that they would be stopped and challenged by Ardan patrols, but he could not see any other traffic underway at this hour. A low winter mist cloaked the land from view, rendering its contour in a faint gradient that peeked through the grey.

There was a persistent smell of smoke on the harbor, stronger than the usual miasma from the factories; instead of the tarry industrial scent that he was accustomed to, Michael smelled the rich scent of woodsmoke mixed with something sweeter that he couldnt place.

The bay remained quiet as their boat slid towards Calmharbors docks, the city earning its name in the glassy morning stillness of the water. A light broke the mist as they drew closer, tainting it with a flickering orange hue. It proved to be the burnt hulk of a ship smoldering at one of the piers, submerged to the deck with blackened scraps still dancing with tongues of flame where they protruded above the water.

Somethings not right, Michael murmured. Sera.

Her apparition blurred into being beside him. What? she mumbled, the bleariness of her voice clear even in its distorted tones. Whys the - oh. It straightened up, popping up from the floor to hover stock-still to Michaels right. Damn. This is going to complicate things. It turned its featureless head to Michael. Theres been some sort of riot. Bodies in the street, burnt buildings - not many people out. Dont see any military presence, so thats a positive. She frowned. Nor police. I was worried about running into both, and now Im more worried at seeing neither.

Michaels vision stretched out, racing through the fog to find the familiar brick and cobble of his hometown. Shattered glass glinted on the street, or sat with quiet malice in empty windows while the fog danced blithely across the shards. Several of the facades were blackened or collapsed from fire - indeed, there were a few bright spots amid the murk where buildings were burning merrily away. Yet there was no rush of firemen to the scene, nor constables.

What people he saw were lurking in alleys or huddled around fireplaces inside. A few gangs of men roamed the street, carrying bulging sacks and armed with crude weapons - clubs, shovels, here and there a battered rifle.

The living, though, were not in the majority. Bodies sprawled across the frozen streets, ice glittering on waxy corpse-skin and flashing bright from staring eyes. They lay slumped against walls or fallen in the street. There were pools of dark blood beneath some of them, but most lay peacefully in their repose.

His sight raced on, down blocks that lay farther distant from the port. Here, entire blocks had burnt to blackened timbers and cracked bricks. The ones that had been spared the fire had been ransacked. A plaza that Michael remembered faintly from his youth was crowded with neatly-arrayed bodies - then haphazard piles beyond those.

Hundreds, thousands of dead. Michael peered close at the bodies and saw crusts of blood around their mouths and noses, sores upon their faces. Some bore bandages, in the earlier piles. Some sort of sickness, Michael said quietly. But not one they could stop. They- He paused, his mind shaking itself free of its shock enough to tie some facts together. Luc. This was Luc.

Stellars light? Sobriquet asked. He killed the whole town?

No, not even most of them, Michael said. But enough. Think about who would have gone close to him. People at the Assembly, people close to the military. Government, police, ensouled - the powerful, the important. Everything else he just left to - fall apart.

And they burned their own town to the ground the second nobody was looking? Sobriquet retorted incredulously. That doesnt make any sense!

I doubt that was intentional. Michael pressed his lips together, still surveying the ranks of the dead. All of the most important men in the city dead, and nobody to keep order. All the wealth of Ardalt sitting in empty homes. All the businesses shipping food and goods into the capital left leaderless. He pulled his sight back to the ship, still floating at a cautious distance from the docks. And when they couldnt buy food at the market anymore, the people probably started taking it from wherever they could. Empty houses first, and then-

He gestured to the city grimly. And then were here.

Its like Gharon all over again, Sobriquet muttered, her head tilting to the side. Im not sure that Sibyl is here, Michael. Nobody would flee here for safety.

She doesnt have anywhere else, Michael said. Check for me. Its- He frowned, gaining his bearings, then pointed. Farther out from the city, between those low hills. There should be a single house surrounded by a large wooded area-

Found it. Sobriquet frowned. Hard to see much detail. Hold on. Her apparition vanished, then reappeared just as quickly. Shes there. I dont think she saw me checking. Vera is there. Several dead bodies, not sure who.

Michael nodded sharply, then opened the throttle enough to send the boat inching forward. Gather the others, then. Were going ashore.

They left Amira to watch the ship, and a very nervous Richter to watch Amira. Michael didnt consider the sullen woman an enemy, but neither did he have much confidence in her equilibrium at the moment. Protecting their avenue of escape was perfectly suited to her talents, however, and she took the assignment without complaint - or much reaction at all, which left a constant nagging worry at the back of Michaels mind as they left.

Richter will be fine, Sobriquet said. He knows better than to shoot her. Knowing him, hes already cooking her some soup in the galley, and thats more likely to calm her down than anything you or I would say.

Im not too worried about Amira, Michael said. It wasnt that far from the truth, at least. I just didnt want her by Sofia - especially not by Isolde. Cant guarantee they wont insult her or try to spur a reaction.

She gave him a flat look. Whats she going to do, kill them? That wouldnt be so inconvenient.

Its my task, Michael said. Only mine. Im not going to look aside. If Sofia is going to die, I can at least do her the courtesy of killing her honestly.

Sobriquet snorted out a laugh, though Michael knew she felt anything but merry at the moment. I bet that will be a comfort. Not sure how much credit it will get you with Vera and Isolde.

I dont think Im mending fences with Isolde anytime soon, Michael said. Vera He paused. I dont think any of this is going to surprise Vera. You remember what she said, in her letter. A path forward - but the last time she said that, she wasnt talking about survival.

Sobriquet said nothing in response, trudging silently along beside Michael.

They were nearing the end of the dockyard; he swung their course towards the hilly district where Raven House sat. Nobody troubled them on the road, though a few figures lurked in shadow and fog.

Michael pointedly looked at each of them, holding his gaze until he felt a small thrill of recognition from each watcher.

Nobody troubled them on the road, and what figures had been lurking soon found better places to be.