“Me?” Rexei touched her flat-bound chest, bemused by his assertion. “If this is more nonsense about me having a Gearman’s strength . . .”
He shook his head. “Not that. Not exactly. There are two Guardians in the empire of Fortuna. One of them, Guardian Suela of Fortune’s Nave, ransacked some of the oldest libraries outside Mendham. As did Guardian Tipa’thia of the Great Library of Mendham, in Mendhi. And her apprentice, Pelai. They both agreed that the few old records of demonic fighting included the fact that the priesthoods of the various afflicted lands were able to turn back the demons as surely as if they’d one and all been mages . . . only not all of them were mages. The records said that some quality of being a ‘true priest’ granted them the power, the ability, to cast demons back into the Netherhells.”
She blinked and sat up. “So . . . my thoughts on Guildra, on manifesting ourselves a Patron Deity, might actually be helpful?”
“Yes. But in order to do that, we’ll need to not be inundated with all these ex-prisoner mages,” Alonnen said, sitting back. He crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle on his knee. “We’ll need order instead of chaos. We’ll need organization. Because if we’re not fighting each other, then we’ll be able to concentrate as a nation—or whatever corner we can grab of it—on worshipping a manifestation of faith and belief. And I think you’ve hit the nail on the head squarely with the thought of a Patron of Guilds.”
“The Guild System has kept the priests shut out of our lives as much as it can,” she agreed. “We all believe in the guilds. But they have to step up and take responsibility for what’s happening. No one group, not even the Precinct militia, can impose order on all the others. Every guild stands equal in the Consulates for the laws affects us all. One Guild, one voice, one vote. I’ve actually had to stand in for all the missing Guilds, even the ones I haven’t been a member of, for those times in my Messenger days when I’d take some problem to a distant Consulate only to find I’d have to represent those who had sent me when the Consulate had to make a decision based on the information I’d brought.”
“Then you’ll go to the Consulate meeting tonight,” he stated, not making it a question. She drew in a breath to speak, but Alonnen held up his hand. “Not to represent this Guild, because I’ll be there . . . but because you need to represent the new . . . well, the new holy Guild that needs to be formed. If we’re going to get a new Patron Deity, Longshanks, someone is going to have to represent the rest of us and organize our worship and . . . and figure out what sorts of ceremonies there will be, and what sorts of holy days.
“Somehow, I doubt we’re going to want to keep celebrating Resurrection Day,” he added tartly. “Not if the Dead God is finally gone.”
“Well, no,” she muttered, agreeing with him. “But me? Organize a new priesthood? The only things I know about the priesthood come from the nightmares that destroyed my family, and . . . and what little I observed in the two months I spent spying on the current lot.”
“Then you’ll know what not to put into the new order. More importantly, Longshanks,” he stressed, pointing at her, “you’re a Gearman who’s been at the very least an apprentice in, what, roughly thirty Guilds? I seem to remember about that many medallions among your things. I don’t know of anybody who has apprenticed in more than ten.”
“That’s hardly a qualification, Tallnose,” she shot back. “I’m a journeyman in only three of them, and no master of any.”
“On the contrary, you’re still fooling me into thinking you’re a male, so you’re bound to be master class in the Actors Guild by now. And you spent the last two months walking into and out of the Heiastowne temple under the very noses of the priesthood without getting caught,” he countered. “That’s worthy of a master’s rank right there. I’ll even put your name up for it, next time I chat with the Grand Master of Actors.”
She blushed.
“Rexei, the real reason why you’re the most qualified to set up a new Holy Guild is because you’re proposing a Goddess of Guilds, and you, lad—lass,” he corrected himself, “have personal, firsthand knowledge of all those Guilds. In fact, I’d suggest the first rule you draw up is that no one can serve in the new Holy Guild unless they’re already an apprentice Gearman at the very least. Because it’s a Patron Deity of the Guilds, plural, that we need . . . and if you can classify any Gearman as holy, then any member of the Mages Guild who has served in two other Guilds—and many of them have—can then be considered a member of the Holy Guild.”
“So?” Rexei asked.
“So, coupling holy power with mage power has made all the defenders in all past accounts appear to be three times as effective at thwarting, banishing, and outright destroying demons as anyone else. Not just twice as effective as holy persons alone or mages alone,” he said.
She blinked at him, then sighed heavily, scrubbing at her hair. “Well, I wish you’d told me all of this earlier.”
He flung up his hands, sitting back. “I only thought of it just now! Forgive me for being mortal.”
For a moment, she stared at him . . . then her mouth curved up on one side. Raising her hand, she fluttered it at him. “You’re forgiven, young man. Though I’ll have to figure out some sort of holy penance for you to perform later.”
Chuckling, he relaxed back into his chair. It wasn’t just the almost-twenty-two-year-old Rexei calling him a young man, when he was nine years her elder. It was the fact that she was willing to make a joke about being a priestly type. Shaking his head a little, he smiled at her. “You remind me of me, just now.”
“I do?” Rexei asked, giving him a dubious look. “How?”
“It was back when my predecessor, Millanei Tumbledrum, picked me to be her personal apprentice. I was barely ranked a journeyman in the Guild, and I was convinced I wasn’t the right person for this job,” he confessed, flicking a hand in a dismissive, expressive motion. “Being Guardian, and thus Guild Master, takes a great deal of personal strength. The Vortex can kill a weak mage, burn them up like a leaf blown into a glassworks forge. She told me I had the power to be the next Guardian of it.
“I pointed out a Guardian needed a lot more experience, like a master or a grandmaster. She countered by stating yes, I was incredibly young for a journeyman mage, barely sixteen, and that I’d likely make master status long before she’d hand over the starter key for this particular motorhorse,” he told her. “The same had happened with the other two candidates, Gavros and Storshei, both of them rising up the ranks quickly and early, based on their wits and their magical strengths. There are a few others who were and are strong enough magically, but she told me she picked the three of us because we could think, and we could lead.