The Paladin Caper (51 page)

Up on Heaven’s Spire, in the temple of Pesyr the Smith, Mister Lively smashed Desidora into a wall hard enough that the iron plating buckled, sending rivets spitting out in all directions.

The death priest and the death priestess were studies in black and white, and the temple around them had given in fully to the aura of death that surrounded them. Grim gargoyles and skull-faced helmets leered at the battle from the walls, and every weapon dripped with spikes and barbs.

“This is pointless,” Lively said as Desidora pushed herself back to her feet. “We are evenly matched in magic, and I far outstrip you in physical power. You cannot win.”

“So it seems.” Desidora’s body ached, but her power shielded her from the worst of it.

“Then why are you
smiling
?” Lively demanded, even as he came in swinging.

Desidora ducked under a blow, but the backhand he followed with flung her to the floor. “Three reasons,” she said, and pushed herself back up as Lively grabbed hold of her hair. She lashed out blindly, caught him across the jaw, and sent him staggering back. Shaking her hair free from his grip, Desidora gave him an icy look. “You said the gods gave you this power . . . but with that power, you built the gate to the Shadowlands, and
how did that work out for you
?” She laughed. “Because of your gift, the Glimmering Folk drove you from this world. If the gods favor one of us today, it is not you.”

Lively roared and lunged at her, and she dove to one side and tore a scythe from the wall. As he turned, she swung.

She was not fast enough. His hand caught the curved haft of the now silver-and-barbed-everywhere weapon, leaving its long blade inches from his face. “If I were not chosen by the gods, I would not still have my power,” he said.

“Haven’t thought that through, have you?” Desidora said. “I gained my power to defeat the Glimmering Folk. They are gone, so why am I still here?”

“A master smith never discards valuable materials,” Lively said, and twisted the scythe from her hands. It fell to the floor, and Lively struck Desidora with a blow that smashed her into the wall again. “When you are weak and dying, I will draw your power into my own. I will hold the power of two death priests, and with that power, I will wreak wonders this world has never seen. What is your second reason?”

Desidora’s head spun from the impact of the blow. Even her aura could only do so much to protect her. She pushed herself to her knees. “My friends on the ground have disabled whatever your people were going to do. It does not matter if you kill me. You have already lost.”

Lively laughed. “Your friends may not have won the victories they think, love priestess. But by all means, keep smiling.” He came forward, hands tightening into fists. “It will make your death even sweeter.”

Desidora sucked in a lungful of breath and waited, and prayed, for the third reason.

Who are you? What are you?

You are like us, but not.

You are not them. They come and walk in the empty place, and we watch from here. They are different. We make ourselves into shapes like theirs. We do what they do. We become what nears us.

You walk the empty places. How do you not flicker and fade outside? How do you stay you?

Do you stay you?

Are you not you?

We can help.

Loch, kneeling and bloody but still defiant, stared at Lesaguris. “You can tell yourselves that you’re just kindhearted people, but the only reason we’re having this conversation is because you enslaved some poor idiot, and now you’re working his body like a puppet.”

Lesaguris rolled his eyes. “Like your Republic is so much better, Loch? Your voyants were happy enough looking down on the world from the city we left for them. Your nobles and your guilds get every bit of sweat and blood they can from the peasants, for as little as they can in return. You Urujar might have shaken off your chains, but most of you are still little more than slaves by any standard that matters.” He smiled. “You can’t disagree with me that strongly. How much time have you spent breaking the laws of the society that you’re trying to save?”

“If this is your argument that you’re not terrible people,” Loch said, “I’m not entirely convinced.”

“We’re
not
terrible people!” Lesaguris snapped, stepping forward to the edge of the podium. “We’re people. That’s all. Smart and foolish, brilliant and flawed people. And you’re
not
people, not really. Your entire race would probably still be scrabbling in the mud, chasing herd animals with sticks, if we hadn’t come to show this world a better way.”

“What’s the better way?” Loch asked. “What’s supposed to happen when that beam of energy hits Heaven’s Spire?”

Lesaguris gave her his thoughtful nod. “You’re a credit to your people, Loch. You did your research, not that it helped you.”

“NOW?” Jyelle asked, and her grip on Loch tightened.

“Not yet,” Lesaguris said. “Loch seems very interested in the future of the Republic. I’d like her to see it.”

“Kutesosh gajair’is,”
Ghylspwr said with a note of warning in his voice.

“Why not?” Lesaguris said, smiling at the other paladins. “I see no reason for her not to know. In a few minutes,” he went on, “that beam of energy you’re talking about will hit Heaven’s Spire, and scatter energy across most of the Republic.”

“Destroying it?” Loch guessed.

“Besyn larveth’is,”
Ghylspwr called out, sounding insulted.

“
Seeding
it,” Lesaguris said. “In a few years, more crystal deposits will be found, a bounty of mining opportunities that will usher in a bold new age of prosperity for the Republic.”

“And the Empire,” added Princess Veiled Lightning, or the ancient wearing her.

“More crystalline wonders,” Archvoyant Cevirt said, “more trade with the dwarves who come in to work the mines and the elves who help manufacture fine crystal goods. More paladins.”

“All for the small price of a little more illness among the livestock,” Mister Skinner said with satisfaction, “mostly the ones who were sickly already, the ones who can’t afford herbs or healers.” He grinned. “Better for the herd in the long run to cull the weak, anyway.”

“So ordinary people will die,” Loch said slowly, her gaze never leaving Lesaguris. “That’s what you’re saying.”

“Ordinary people always die, Loch.” Lesaguris shrugged. “That’s their job. If the tables were turned, you’d do the same to us.”

Mister Skinner was frowning. “Sir,” he said.

“But you’re not us,” Loch cut in. “You’re creatures living in the paladin bands, enslaving whoever wears them.”

“Sir!” Skinner said, and gestured at Jyelle, who put a hand over Loch’s mouth.

“What is it, Skinner?” Lesaguris asked in annoyance, and then paused as he heard the crowd murmuring. As Skinner gestured with Loch’s walking stick, Lesaguris looked over to where he pointed.

Lesaguris’s face shown huge on the glamour-screens still, and everyone in the crowd was staring at it.

In the hidden central chamber, Icy Fist looked at Lesaguris and Mister Skinner.

“I believe they have seen us. Kail?”

Kail glanced up from the console where he was frantically attuning crystals. “Quick cut to Skinner. He’s got that good gut-punched look. Then back to Lesaguris. No way he shuts up now.”

Icy nodded to the puppeteers, who looked sickly but grim as they worked the consoles. The puppets of the dragon, the manticore, and the griffon lay discarded on the floor, next to the crushed fragments of three paladin bands.

Down in the back room of the processing center, Tern stepped back from a crystal array that put anything on Heaven’s Spire to shame, took a deep breath, put her attunement charger down, and flexed her aching hand.

“Not bad,” she said. “Not bad at all.”

If Desidora had done her part up on Heaven’s Spire and Kail had gotten Icy’s message and set the font to one-third diffusion, there was a pretty good chance that this wouldn’t just result in a cataclysmic explosion.

“Um,” came a voice from behind her, and Tern looked to see Westteich backing through the doorway. “There’s a problem outside, and I don’t believe I’m equipped to deal with it.”

“You have
magical armor
, asshole.” Tern stomped over. “What problem is beyond your ability to . . . oh.”

Two Hunter golems came through the processing center toward them.

“Their spears might be able to penetrate my armor,” Westteich said, “so you can see how it would be wasteful to—”

“Oh my gods.” Tern closed the door and then shoved a chair in front of it, like that was really going to help.

“What is your plan?” Westteich asked. “You’ve spent time with some of the greatest criminals in the Republic, you must have some—”

“I
am
one of the greatest criminals in the Republic.” Tern picked up her crossbow, cocked it, and drew a pouch full of the sparkling powder that could slow down or even take down a golem. “And my plan is to die fighting and kiss my boyfriend up in heaven.”

Lesaguris looked down at Skinner with preternatural calm. “Get over there and fix that, please.”

“Sir.” Skinner tossed Loch’s walking stick to the ground and hurried off in the direction of the font.