“Not that I had much choice. The Blood Ox and his fiends treated LastRock poorly. I managed to cajole Jova into fixing this one up, and now it will have to suit.”
“Scorio.” Ravenna was hesitant, perhaps even reserved, but then she took an impulsive step forward and hugged him tight.
Scorio returned the hug, hesitant in turn.
When she stepped back Ravenna’s lips were pursed. “I heard what happened. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” said Scorio, as that seemed the simplest thing to say.
“Come, let’s sit. We’ve much to discuss. And now that you are a Pyre Lord, I don’t have to stand on ceremony.” Moira smiled, and her malachite green eyes flashed. “At this rate I’ll soon be bowing to you. Are you quite ready to be interrogated?”
“I am.” Scorio had known it was coming, and being here, with Ravenna and Moira both, it somehow felt comforting. Were they friends? Yes, and something more. He wanted to trust them, but he could feel the weight of Naomi’s impatient stare between his shoulder blades.
Still. He wanted to trust them. It was something.
They all sat in canvas and wood chairs, even Xandera, who was perfectly capable of controlling her heat. Ravenna poured tea, and then followed a moment of silence as they studied each other.
“The Blood Ox is dead.” Moira’s words were part-celebratory, part-statement of fact. “By your doing. Had you not given me your assurances, I’d not have lied to the Imperators.”
“Turned out they weren’t lies,” said Ravenna quickly. “Right? Scorio did have a plan.”
“They were lies at the time.” Moira sipped her tea. “Or perhaps better yet an act of faith on my part. A faith that was amply rewarded.”
“Yeah.” Scorio shifted in his seat. “Alain, Naomi and I… we…” He trailed off.
“Nobody’s seen Naomi since,” said Moira. “Not that I’ve heard, and I have an extensive network. It would seem she’s gone to ground. There are some whose powers could help you locate her, however, if you wanted.”
“I…” Did he want that? To track her down and confront her? He looked down at his mug. He felt obligated, but for some reason it felt futile. What would he say? She’d hate having been found. But it wasn’t safe to leave her alone. If she was still… “Thanks. I’ll think on it.”
“And you won’t be surprised that word of your deeds has started to permeate deep into hell.” Moira’s smile was subtle, her gaze as piercing as ever. “As a Pyre Lord you can now descend all the way to the Emerald Reach, if you so desired. The Seamstress has expressed a desire to meet you, which is no small honor.”
“One denied to Bravurn,” added Ravenna.
“Aezryna extended an invitation,” continued Moira. “Before she left. And to show how serious she was, she offered to facilitate your travel, bypassing the Silver Unfathom and Lustrous Maria. Other queries from interested parties have been filtering in.”
Ravenna smirked. “You can’t kill the Chancellor of the Academy, then kill the Iron Tyrant, assist in driving off Imogen the Woe, and then help ambush a True Fiend without drawing notice. And, oh, wait: you’re a Pyre Lord now? Only a few weeks after making Dread Blaze? Honestly, it’s too much.”
Again Scorio shifted his weight in his seat. “I guess I’ve been keeping busy.”
Xandera leaned forward. “He’s also a good friend to the blazeborns. Queen Xandera Prime has promised to help him if he’s ever in need.”
“Queen Xandera Prime,” mused Moira. “And you are?”
Xandera sat back. “Xandera Sextus.”
Moira inclined her head with grave courtesy. “Queen Xandera Sextus.”
“Just Xandera Sextus.” The young blazeborn all but fidgeted. “I cannot be called queen until I rule my own spire. Which could be whenever I so desire.”
“Of course. But Scorio, you are blazing a fast trail into the firmament of Great Soul luminaries. Many are inquiring about your ambitions, and putting their queries to me. What would you have me tell them?”
“You’re in charge now, aren’t you?” asked Scorio softly.
“I am.” Again Moira smiled. “You’ve a remarkable talent for killing off rival authority figures. Praximar and Bravurn would have contested my taking the mantle, but alas. The White Queen is long gone, and the Autocrators in Bastion are nullifying each other. The Fiery Shoals no longer boasts a single powerful leader, and the Fury Spires are now rightfully returned to the blazeborn. I find myself the sole island of calm in a maddened sea.”
Scorio smiled wryly. “Congratulations.”
Moira inclined her head.
“As for my plans.” He stood and crossed to the small cart. Lifted the iron-bound chest from its bed, brought it over, and set it upon the floor between them. Crouched and unlatched it, then opened the lid to reveal the treasures they’d acquired in Bravurn’s vault.
“Here. Have you ever seen language like this?” And he passed Moira one of the ledgers.
The Pyre Lady placed the heavy tome on her lap and turned the pages. “Interesting. I’ve not. But I know someone with a gift for puzzles. Their Dread Blaze power.”
“A gift for puzzles,” mocked Ravenna.
Moira laughed. “Am I wrong?”
“Hardly. But… never mind.”
“Do you mind my sharing this with him? If anybody could crack this code quickly, it would be Krantar.”
“Sure.” Scorio took the book back and placed it in his cart. “I’ll keep them with me for now. If he agrees, he’s welcome to read them in my presence.”
“Wise,” said Moira. “And now we come to it. Bravurn’s betrayal has sent shockwaves through the upper echelons, though not everybody was surprised. His willingness to dicker in the final hour spoke to an either a truly sociopathic personality or alternative motives.”
Ravenna sat forward. “What’s really frightened everyone was his ability to communicate with the Blood Ox. Sure, he offered the True Fiend something he wanted in the form of all that Gold mana, but how did he get word to him in the first place? Did he visit the Blood Ox in his Sanctum? What did he say to get the fiend to take him seriously?”
“Precisely.” Moira crossed her legs and sat back, hands on her lap. The pose was one of studied calm. “That more than the betrayal itself has everyone worried. If there are other traitors in our ranks who can communicate with the True Fiends trapped in the Pit… well. The thought’s not comforting.”
“And sheds new light on the failure of the Cerulean Prophecy,” added Lianshi.
Moira considered the Flame Vault. “Precisely, though nobody’s saying that out loud just yet.”
“Oops,” said Lianshi.
“You can count on there being more of them,” said Scorio. “Bravurn’s books and letters are proof of that.”
“A frightening prospect. But another feather in your cap.” Moira smiled. “We’ll get these books translated and see what we uncover. I assume your next course of action will depend on what we learn?”
“Right. I’m going to rest a little while I’m here, see what’s in these books, then decide. But the Herdsmen have my attention.”
“A pity for them. Regardless, welcome to LastRock. Ravenna can show you a place to rest while I query Krantar. I’ll have an answer to you soon.”
Moira stood, prompting everyone else to do the same, and drew a single black leather glove from inside her robe. “When I learned what you accomplished, and what you lost, I swore that I would shake your hand. Knowing your hesitation, I had this fashioned for me. I’ll swear a Heart Oath that this leather keeps my power from working; it requires skin to skin contact. May I salute you as you deserve?”
Scorio considered the Pyre Lady. Half her face was cast in shadow, an oblique shaft of light raising her harsh cheekbone and the freckles cast across the bridge of her nose into sharp relief. Her long lashes shadowed her green eyes in turn, and he found that she was as inscrutable as ever.