“It is not murder!” Obruesk’s burning eyes were now fixed on the doyen. “God demands that we remove what’s unclean.”
“From our own hearts first, Obruesk,” Doyen Allwyn said. “Otherwise we become more of an abomination than that which we denounce.”
The chaplain glared back at the doyen. “Abominations? You talk about abominations?” He turned to the half circle of crew and soldiers, his robe flaring out about his thin body, and he waved a hand at the haunts. “We are surrounded by unhallowed spirits conjured by this man. Ware! Ware, I tell you, lest you find the abominations devour your soul!”
Chaplain Obruesk broke off as my knife, still in its sheath, landed at his feet with a thunk. He stared down at it, then raised his eyes to me. I had cast off the blankets and risen.
“If it’s my murder you want, Chaplain, I will show you how to do it.” I pulled my tabard over my head and dropped it on the deck. I started to remove my shirt. “No reason for anyone else to be damned for the taking of a life.” The shirt joined the tabard and I went to work on my singlet.
“Would it damn one to remove evil from the earth? No! Heaven shall sing his praises who puts his hand to work God’s will!” The chaplain’s voice rang out, his head lifted to the sky.
“God does not work through murdering mobs—” Doyen Allwyn began.
I dropped my singlet and laid a hand on the doyen’s shoulder and he fell silent. “Then there’s no reason why you can’t do it, is there?” I asked. I pulled out my boot knife and pointed it under my ribs. “Angle the knife up so, and I’ll be quite dead.” I grinned, baring my teeth. “I don’t know about evil, but maybe that’ll remove your shame at being kicked out of Iversly.”
Obruesk brought his head down and glared at me, making a warding sign. “Get thee gone, demon, and take your workings with you! Tempting a man of God to bloodshed—”
“My da always said you should never ask someone to do what you’re not willing to do yourself.” I pressed the knife point and a bead of blood welled up, dark red against my skin. “Right here, Chaplain.”
Obruesk drew back his foot to kick, my knife away. “A devil’s tool—”
“One more word and I will throw you overboard, Obruesk.”
The chaplain whipped around so fast that I heard his spine crack. The troopers who’d left had returned with Captain Suiden, Captain Javes, Lieutenant Groskin, and Lord Esclaur—none of whom were wearing happy faces. I quickly tucked my knife behind my back.
“I told you to stay away from Lieutenant Rabbit, yet here you are.” Captain Suiden walked up to the chaplain, his clan markings vivid in the sun. “What part of ‘clapped in irons’ and ‘thrown in the brig’ don’t you understand?”
There was another stir as Ryson returned with Laurel.
“What the—” Jeff said softly as we both stared at Laurel and Ryson working their way into the circle. “Ryson didn’t just go get the cat, did he?” Jeff whispered as the Faena joined the captains and Groskin, Ryson prudently (prudently!) hanging back.
The captain ignored Laurel’s arrival as he was still fixed on legitimate prey. “As you seem to have problems obeying orders, Obruesk, I am placing you under guard until we reach the Border—”
The chaplain cut Suiden off and I almost admired his courage. Almost. “So you too have given yourself over to hell’s thrall!” He once more turned to the surrounding crew and troopers. “See how your captain stands with the sorcerer’s familiar!”
Suiden motioned with his hand and two soldiers and several sailors detached from the crowd, converging on the chaplain. “Instead of standing with you?” he asked. “Why should we? Rabbit saved us and you did not.”
Obruesk opened his mouth but the captain spoke over him. “Alive by magic beats to flinders death by drowning, no matter how unholy you call it.”
The chaplain jerked an arm away from a soldier. “Saved us? The sorcerer called the demon in the first place! I’ve seen his familiar speaking with his succubus,” he said. He looked beyond Laurel, his eyes wide in outrage. “There she is now, as bold as brass!” I followed Obruesk’s glare and saw Honor Ash standing behind Laurel. The crowd shifted, staring between me and the Faena and the haunt, and for the first time a thread of uneasiness wound through the men.
“When?” Suiden asked. “When did you see them talking?”
“What does it matter? They are in collusion, working towards their nefarious—”
“Oh, stifle it!” Captain Suiden said, suddenly irritated.
Javes shot a look at Suiden, then looked away, meeting Esclaur’s eyes for a brief moment. Both their mouths quivered.
“It was after the storm, wasn’t it?” Suiden demanded. The chaplain didn’t say anything, and the captain’s green eyes glinted at him. “They were friends, Obruesk. He probably does speak to her ghost, just as Basel’s troop mates still speak to his.”
“Yes, sir,” someone said just loud enough to be heard. “We’re trying to get him to come back and do the cooking again.” A smattering of laughter went through the soldiers and the tension once more relaxed.
Obruesk’s mouth opened, but Suiden held up his hand again. “You are a pest. Enough.” He gestured at the first two soldiers. “Take him below. Gently,” he added as the men took hold of the chaplain’s arms. “He’s still clergy. Respect the office, if not the man.”
The chaplain cast me a look as he was led away and the thought flitted through my mind that he wasn’t going to bless me anytime soon—but I already knew that. I was more concerned about getting my knife back without Suiden seeing. He had turned to Doyen Allwyn and I took a cautious step towards where it lay on the deck.
“Leave it, Lieutenant,” Suiden said, without looking at me.
I stopped.
“If you would take over the office of chaplain for the duration of our trip, Doyen Allwyn,” Suiden asked, sort of.
“Yes, of course” the doyen replied. He glared after Obruesk. “When I return to Iversterre I will speak to the patriarch about whom he allowed to be his second.”
Everyone became still.
“Your Reverence—” began Lord Esclaur.
“I know what I said and where I said it, my lord,” the doyen replied. He worked his shoulders and dragged in a sigh. “I desperately need to pray. Blessings.” He waved his hands in our direction and stalked off.
Captain Suiden also sighed and looked around at the crew and troopers. “You are all dismissed.” No one moved and the captain’s brows came together. “Is there a problem?”
“Please, sir,” Jeff said, “Rabbit was telling us about what happened with the storm and all when the chaplain interrupted him.”
“He was?” Groskin said, pressing forward. “What did he say?” He caught Suiden’s eye. “Uh—”
“That it was like when you dream you’re flying, only better, sir,” Jeff said.
“Oh, I say,” Javes said, also stepping up. “I would like to hear.”
“But I’ve already told you—” Suiden began.
“Indeed, yes. I would too,” Esclaur said as he followed Javes.
First Lieutenant Falkin said nothing but turned a pleading look on Suiden, who sighed again and gave in. “All right. Lieutenant Rabbit can finish his telling.” His eyes narrowed at me. “But afterwards you come see me, understood?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, still holding my boot knife behind my back.
Suiden gave a faint smile. “In the meantime, put your clothes back on and both knives away.” He turned, almost bumping into Laurel, and his brow raised. “Sro Cat?”
“A moment, Captain,” Laurel said. He produced a vial and a clean cloth from his pouch. “To prevent the wound from corrupting,” he said as he dabbed the stinging lotion on the small stab wound under my ribs. He wiped the drying blood off from where it had run down my side, then stood back, and putting the cloth and vial away, sat down on the deck, his staff resting against his shoulder. “I should like to hear also.”