Naomi grimaced, clearly restraining herself from hurling abuse at them all.
Vermina continued to stare fixedly at Scorio. “Where would you go from here if freed?”
“Deeper into Hell.” Scorio spoke with absolute conviction. “I want nothing more to do with Bastion or the Celestial Consortium. We’re both Flame Vaults, which means we can already journey as far as the Silver Unfathom. We mean to go far and range wide in our search for the truth.”
“The truth?” asked the Iron Tyrant.
“Yes, the truth. The truth about our existence here in Hell. Eterra, the Pit, our millennia-long mission, and those who gave it to us. Why it is that we fight the fiends in Acherzua—”
“Where did you hear that term?” demanded Vermina.
“A friend of mine shared it with me before he went to ground.”
The three exchanged looks once more.
The Iron Tyrant inhaled deeply. “Scorio, you and Naomi are cleared of all wrongdoing, including the assault of the Circuit Isle Azurith.”
“Truth be told, boy, you were cleared before you walked in here,” said Plassus. “Between Druanna’s account and Helminth’s tale—and our own inside knowledge of what was transpiring here—we’d little doubt as to the righteousness of your actions.”
“Thank you.” Scorio took a deep breath. “Then I’m free to go?”
“Not yet.” The Iron Tyrant’s words rang like iron. “You yourself spoke of your own value. I wish to recruit you into my retinue. I know you care less than nothing for accolades and approval, for promises of treasure and advancements, so I will appeal instead to your sense of opportunity.”
“My dear Bravurn,” cut in Plassus. “You forget the order of these things! As a Charnel Duke, I get to make my offer first.”
“You are a Charnel Duke of House Kraken,” said the Iron Tyrant dryly. “I doubt your offer will hold much appeal.”
“Be that as it may. Oh don’t scowl at me like that, Scorio, this is business, and business is impersonal. My offer: to assist in the battle against the Blood Ox and help lead the united forces of our Houses to victory. The situation is dire. Even with our now redirecting all of Bastion’s resources to the front and recruiting the remnants of Manticore to fight, we’ll be hard-pressed. A True Fiend hasn’t led an assault such as this as far north as the Telurian Band in centuries. Maybe more. Yet there he is, untouchable and unstoppable. Daily we beseech the Imperators to fall back and assist in killing him, but they are caught up in their own private dramas. The Blood Ox is for us to deal with, and I tell you true, we are overwhelmed and in disarray.”
Plassus leaned forward, a canny smile on his lips, eyes twinkling. “What do you say? Does your blood call for battle? You’ve demonstrated everything we look for in a recruit: savagery in battle, unbeatable resolve, canny tactics, and a piercing intelligence. Come to the front, lad. If it’s the truth of things you’re looking for, why, what better place to find it than in the crux of war, and whom better to tear it from than the Blood Ox himself?”
Plassus’s words hung in the air, resonant and stirring.
“You do me much honor,” said Scorio cooly. “I will consider your offer.”
The Charnel Duke narrowed his eyes. “There is wisdom in knowing where true power lies. Do not spurn this opportunity.”
“My offer is simple,” said the Iron Tyrant. “Come serve in my retinue. There is ample scope for assisting the war effort from the Fury Spires, as well as the ongoing need to pacify the warring fiends who assault us daily from their redoubts in the Iron Spine. You are a Flame Vault, nothing more, nothing less. You would earn ample gratitude and reward for breaking the Gurloks.”
Scorio nodded and looked at Vermina.
“I have an offer, but I believe my breath would be wasted on you.” She transfixed him with her amber gaze. “You are averse to the Houses, and wary of all authority figures. Why should I think myself different? If you wish to learn of my offer, then find me later.”
“I’ve a question for you,” said Scorio. “Why didn’t you come two years ago to protect your House? Why now?”
“Why?” Vermina arched a brow. “Two years ago order was maintained. It was distasteful, but my returning here alone would have opened up opportunities elsewhere for exploitation.”
Plassus grinned.
“But now? Now there is chaos. We both agreed to come, and in so doing restore order and maintain equilibrium both here and elsewhere.” She studied Scorio. “I do not expect you to understand.”
“You’re right. I guess I don’t.”
“On that note,” said the Iron Tyrant, “I believe these proceedings are concluded.”
“Question,” said Scorio. “I heard that the Queen’s Accords are to be reinstated. Does that include the provisions to grant the people of Bastion a non-voting member on the Council, and so forth?”
Plassus made a face. “Technically? Yes. Are we going to insist that part be read out loud in every square of the city? Probably not.”
“Your reputation here in Bastion is in tatters,” said the Iron Tyrant. “Are you seeking to fix it?”
“It’s not about my reputation,” said Scorio. “It’s about what’s right.”
“Oh child,” said Vermina with a fond smile. “You sound so young. I was once like you. But Hell shall prove an unkind teacher.”
Scorio smiled a crooked smile. “Maybe I’m naïve. But ask Praximar how easily I was led.”
“Naivete can be plenty dangerous,” said Plassus, his voice low. “We make you these offers so that we can guarantee that you’ll be dangerous to our enemies.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to live without that guarantee for now. I’ve one request of you alclass="underline" tear down the impalement spikes that adorn every square. And any plaques commemorating the massacre of innocents. The people of Bastion deserve better.”
The Iron Tyrant raised a brow. Plassus rippled his fingers on the tabletop. Vermina simply stared fixedly at Scorio.
Who sighed. “Are we free to go?”
The Iron Tyrant inclined his head. “You are.”
“Thank you.” Scorio gave a half bow to the three, then turned and strode forth from the chamber, Naomi by his side.
Chapter 69
Naomi and Scorio emerged into the late radiance of Second Bronze. The square before the citadel was busy with foot traffic; messengers and officials from every house rushed to and fro, eager to capitalize on the momentous changes that had shaken the city.
Few spared a glance for the pair of them, and bemused, Scorio led the way down the broad steps to the cobblestones below, where a slender figure stepped out of the crowd to greet them.
“Scorio. Naomi.”
“Ravenna.”
“I wanted to apologize for my role in House Kraken’s ambush.” For a moment she was hesitant, and then she stood tall. “I wasn’t given a choice. Autocrator Octavia commanded me to allow Simeon to use his power. Still, I’m sorry for being part of that.”
“Wasn’t your fault,” said Scorio softly. “But thanks, anyways.”
For a moment they stood in silence, three stones in the stream of traffic.
“Pyre Lady Moira has negotiated my release from House Kraken.” Ravenna’s smile was pained. “As was part of our original accord. I’ll be traveling to the Fiery Shoals to work with her there.”
“You’re joining House Hydra?”
“No. She’s leaving the House altogether and traveling to the Iron Weald to help in the war against the Blood Ox. The situation in the Telurian Band is growing even more dire. Do you know what your next move will be?”
Scorio smiled. “This isn’t another recruitment attempt, is it?”
Ravenna flushed and shook her head. “No. As for that… well. One of the many reasons I want to leave House Kraken behind.”
“We don’t know yet what we’re going to do,” said Naomi, tone brusque.
“Sure.” Ravenna forced a smile. “Well, if we see each other deeper in Hell, I won’t complain. You provided me the opportunity to get out of Bastion. I’m sorry it took so many losses, but I’m still grateful.”