Chapter 9: Chapter IX

I didn’t know why I was doing this.

I looked down at the note in my hands, the invitation to lunch with the High Inquisitor of the Chantry, and then back up at the Grand Cathedral itself where I was meant to meet him. I hadn’t set foot on the “sacred grounds” of the Chantry since I had taken my Turyn Vows and made my first mask. I looked up at the raven perched in a tree not far from the exit, as though ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

Teris looked back at me like I was behaving as a moron.

I didn’t fault him for it in the slightest. “Well. It’s not like I haven’t done stupider things,” I decided, and with that incredibly low bar to justify my actions, I started heading up the stairs.

The statues of the Ascendants topped the railings whenever they reached a landing, of which they were several on the way up to the massive double doors– twelve landings, in fact, so that there would be just enough space to put the dual aspects of each Ascendant somewhere on the steps. The females were always on the left, the males on the right, all of them facing outwards and glaring down at those who dared to approach.

The white stone stairs were oversized; I would have said “made for giants” if giants had lived in our days. Each one took effort and was a bit of a struggle, even for someone as athletic as me; I was a bit winded by the time I reached the top. Feeling a little spiteful to the stone images, I made no effort to check myself as I leaned against the statue of the Ascendant of Life at the top to catch my balance and breath. I was pretty sure they were one of the dead ones, anyway, so they couldn’t even get too upset about it.

There were two Fates carved into the doors– Aera and Taeril, sometimes called the Maidens of Palados by the Chantry due to the three of them forming the Light Deities, represented by the suns. To the Chantry, Palados was the highest of the Fates, the most righteous, the most important. The Dark Fates, led by Khane, were considerably less honored in the pantheon, though they were feared. Cyren was one of those Dark Fates, and I wondered if maybe that was why they had allowed my title to stand. Or maybe they just hadn’t been able to make it go away.

I looked at the giant doors and thought about trying to just open them. Human strength alone probably wouldn’t cut it, but I really liked the impression of a Turyn walking in and with inhuman strength opening doors that were not meant to be opened. But it was probably unwise to flaunt my “unrighteously acquired” talents here, so I walked over to the left side of the doors and pulled the rope hanging down there, ringing a bell.

A few moments later, the doors began to move, swinging inwards. They would conceal the pair of monks using a pulley system to move the stone slabs.

I walked inside.

The Cathedral’s main dome was massive, the ceiling arching high up and away, hollow all the way to the tip and causing my booted footsteps on the tile floor to echo somewhat alarmingly.

It was also very empty.

I supposed that made sense, considering the doors were so large that to have them swing inwards took up a considerable amount of the middle of the room, but even so, the level of desertion for such a massive chamber was somewhat disconcerting. There was a little cubicle area with a couple of white-clad women behind a desk that I assumed was the receptionist area, straight ahead across the chamber and to the left. Other than that, the only other furnishments of the room were more of the giant marble statues. Twelve Ascendant statues, two-faced and split to show both aspects, dotted around the outside of the room. Another, smaller circle made by statues of the Six Fates surrounded a central point of the mural that covered the floor tiles– specifically, they were all facing inwards to the symbol of the Chantry itself on the floor.

Designs in black and white spiraled away from that single focal point of red color on the floor and spun across the tile. The walls, however, were just blank white marble, all the way up to the tip of the dome ceiling.

It was an unpleasant place– cold and unwelcoming. The Turyn chapels had some stone and statues too, of course, but also, our patron goddesses were those of Apocalypse and Death, change and the end of the world. Even so, though they were darker, there was more warmth in them, more people, more community, more kindness. There was more humanity than in this sterile white and black stone, colorless aside from the stain of red, a symbol of blood and power.

I took a breath and headed over to the receptionist desk, the doors swinging shut behind me once I had cleared their range and would no longer be struck by them.

Even though my footfalls echoed heavily in the eerily silent room, neither woman seated behind the desk had looked up by the time I had reached them.

“I’m here for a lunch appointment with High Inquisitor Dahl.”

One of the women looked up over the edge of her book lazily, and then immediately recoiled and did a double-take in shock as soon as she saw my mask.

Honestly, the reaction was so amusing that it alone justified the whole trip in my mind.

She continued to stare at me for a solid beat, until the temptation just became too much.

“If you’re thinking that there are probably easier ways to commit suicide, I would agree, but you wouldn’t believe how hard it is to manage that when you have a deal with a demon–”

“Very funny, Mr. Kazheer.” She was probably reading my name; that was how most people said it when they were reading it. She sounded a little strained, but the recovery wasn’t horrible. “I’ll let the Inquisitor know that you’re on your– sir? Where are you–?”

I simply walked away from the desk with a wave, not turning around. “I’ve never been in here before. I think I’ll wander a bit before the meeting.”

“Sir, that is not how–” I could hear her standing up, but there was no way she was going to catch me before I walked further into the building, nor was she likely to try once I had gone through another door.

“Thanks for the help!”

With that, I turned and winked before stepping through the most obvious exit leading further into the building– a much smaller wooden double-door, somewhat hidden in the shadows of a couple of support pillars, to the right of the receptionist booth and almost directly across from the building entrance.

This looked much more like what I had been anticipating– rows and rows of stone pews set on the same kind of black and white tile, lined up with perfect spacing to fill the rectangular room. The focal point of the worship area was a platform at the front, behind which was a stained glass window that glowed with artificial riftsliver light. The platform had the statues of the Six Fates atop it, the Light Trio in front, in the light of the window, while the Dark Trio were behind and not quite on the platform, hidden in the shadows. In front of the platform was a podium, currently unoccupied, but behind which a priest could stand and yell at the crowd about all the things they were doing wrong with their lives. Or something. I’d never actually attended a Chantry service.

There were only a few people in there right now, heads bowed and sitting in the pews as they prayed to their unheeding gods. One or two of them looked up and glanced back to see who had entered the room, but only one of them clearly looked long enough to see the mask. That individual’s following recoil and expression of fear once again made my day.

Did they teach that Turyn were monsters under children’s beds or something?

I waved cheerfully and then looked for another door, finding two of them on my side of the auditorium– wooden doors again, single this time, nestled in the corner and half-behind the support pillars. There was one on my left and one on my right, and, honestly, I would have been surprised if they weren’t mirrored on the other end, behind the platform with the statues.

Left or right?

Always left, Teris tossed out casually in response to my thoughts.

I shrugged and saw no reason not to go with it, taking the left door.

I entered into another rectangular area, this one segmented into individual rooms. A hallway ran down the length of the room on this side, with a split in the middle that led to a mirrored hallway on the other side of the room, making an “H” shape. These appeared to be the individual offices. At the halfway point, where the hallway split into three branches, there was also a staircase leading up to the second floor, as both this room and the worship hall had a considerably shorter roof than the full height of the building. Of course, the dome was higher even than the rest of it so that it was visible from everywhere in the city. I had also been right about the mirrored door, as there was another one leading in the same direction at the other end of the hall, back into the worship hall.

A priest was walking through the hallway looking at some papers, and he looked up when I entered, stopping dead in his tracks.

“.... You are… the Lion of Ildanach?” he asked, as though verifying that there definitely weren’t any other Turyn wandering around the city.

“Yep, that’s me. Inquisitor Dahl’s office, that upstairs?”

“Yes,” he said, slowly.

“Cool. I assume these and the ones upstairs are all just basic offices for the clergy, right?”

“Yes,” he said again, starting to narrow his eyes at me.

“Awesome! I’ll come back later then.” I turned and walked back out the door. I wasn’t finished exploring yet and didn’t really figure I was going to have any legitimate reason to be back in here any time soon, aside from maybe for my eventual execution.

I was once again stared at as I scooted across the width of the worship hall to the other door that had been on the right.

This room was a massive library. There was no second floor, here, as the bookshelves that lined the walls reached up to a much higher ceiling than had been in the other two areas. There was, however, a balcony, and I noticed a door in between shelves up there, which meant it could be accessed from the second floor office area. There were ladders that led up to the balcony, though no stairs. Free desks and tables for studying, all accessorized with riftsliver light sources, were scattered all throughout the area. Men and women in the white garbs of the church moved about here and there; for the first time, not a single person looked up and noticed me.

The ceiling was clear and allowed the sun to pour in for natural lighting, but the balcony also was lined with riftslivers to accent it, bathing the room in a mix of yellow and purple and keeping it consistently illuminated.

It was beautiful.

I hadn’t seen so many books in one place in years, and this was common in nearly every Cathedral in every House across the continent. They kept all the knowledge locked up and bottled behind stone doors and condemnation. It was one of their worst crimes, to my mind– the hoarding of wisdom, knowledge, learning. It was a form of slavery, forcing knowledge to be taken and filtered through a specific lens and viewpoint before it could be obtained– hiding original sources and facts behind curtains and obfuscation.

They withheld all options for other ways of thinking until only the scarce few were willing to speak or operate outside of their box, and they hunted those few into oblivion.

I could have spent hours in there, or tried to, anyway, but I didn’t want to be excessively late to the meeting. I backtracked to the staircase leading to the upper floor in the office area and headed up. As I had observed, there was a door out to the library balcony, but otherwise it was just more offices– though these looked bigger and more of them seemed to be positioned to have natural windows. They had plaques on them and no one was wandering about, making it very easy for me to simply go up to the High Inquisitor’s office door and open it.

Dahl’s office, or at least the one he was using for his stay, wasn’t huge, but it was decent sized. It featured a bookshelf, a massive wooden desk, a couple of chairs, and a decent sized window behind the desk. The man himself was seated behind said desk, looking over some papers. He didn’t even look up.

“I was wondering when you’d get around to showing up. Please, have a seat.”

This man got on my nerves. Still, I sat. “I was under the impression I was getting a free lunch out of the deal. If that’s not happening, I’ll see myself out.”

“As you saw yourself in? You quite flustered poor Wendy out front.”

“She stared at me for five minutes because I dared to set foot in here. I think she deserved a little flustering.”

“You know, there is no rule on the Chantry side forbidding your kind from entering. The avoidance is entirely of your own volition.”

“I think it might have something to do with self-preservation instincts.”

Dahl rolled his eyes. “It’s been years since the Chantry publicly called for the execution of heretics. Don’t you think you should have gotten over it by now?”

I looked at him for a short beat. “Let me get right on that.”

Dahl shrugged and went back to his papers. “Don’t you think peace ought to be made between the two of us someday?”

“Sure. It’d be real easy, in fact. Leave us alone. Then you have your peace.”

“Oh, come now, you’re smarter than that. Peace cannot be had on a permanent basis when conflicting values are held dear.”

“So, of course, what you’re really saying is that we should just all do what you want, and then you’ll be happy.”

“You would be happier too,” Dahl said, and there was conviction in it.

“Remind me, what does the Chantry hold as values again?”

“Righteousness. Justice. Order. The following of the pathway that is laid out before you, towards your purpose as laid out in the infinite wisdom of the Fates.”

“Fates leave a nice handbook with instructions for everyone in the world, or?”

“As communicated through the priests, of course.”

“Ahh, of course. Fates forbid you let people try to figure things out themselves.”

“Freedom is a dangerous thing. Terribly unsafe.”

I smiled mirthlessly. “It is, isn’t it?”

“We strive to better the world, Leon. I would think you’d be able to relate to that, considering the mask you chose.”

It wasn’t the world I was trying to better. Telling him that would do me no good, though, so I held my tongue.

He leaned in a little closer. “You could help us, you know.”

“Really.”

“And we could help you.”

“Do you have any intention to arrive at the point in the near future?”

Dahl sighed. “You lack patience.”

“Also nuance,” I concurred. “The point?”

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“We can market you.”

I blinked at him a couple of times, processing. “Pardon?”

“You’re a hero! North for sure, but even somewhat in the West. You have notoriety and fame, and a surprisingly good reputation on top of it– you don’t get drunk and do stupid things, you don’t seem to have any noticeable vices, really. We have witnesses who can say you’ve done random kindnesses, and we can always make a few more. You’re a bit of a prick, but that’s to be expected of someone of your age and talent. People will accept that. Ildanach already sees you as a hero, but if you come with me, the whole world will see you that way– see you the way you clearly want to be seen. You’ll be beyond reproach; you’ll get whatever you want. People will see you as kin to the Ascendants themselves.”

“Isn’t that blasphemous?” I muttered, but it was a mostly rhetorical question. I was having a bit of a hard time processing the fact that the Chantry wanted to sponsor me.

“You can have it all, Leon,” Dahl said, smiling. “All you have to do is take off the mask.”

The words were like a bucket of cold water. Of course. They would happily sponsor me then, wouldn’t they? Not just a hero of Ildanach, not just a talented warrior, but a convert, someone who the High Inquisitor himself turned from the depravity of heresy and brought to the truth. They would parade me around as a symbol of their faith. I would be the hero my mask said I wanted to be but not while wearing it.

You can have everything you want. Just give up everything you have.

Just hand over my soul and my freedom and fall in line with the edicts of the Church. Just let them parade me around in front of the brothers and sisters that I would have betrayed as a convert of the Chantry, a pretty face behind which to hide their atrocities. Just allow myself to stand as a sign of the so-called “peace” that Dahl wanted to achieve– a peace made by tyranny.

We will give you everything you never thought to ask for, if you give up the things for which you fought. Just fall in line, sit down, and shut up.

I looked at Dahl again and saw the serpent behind his smile, the trap that I had almost missed in my surprise. I leaned back in my chair. “And if I refuse?”

Dahl leaned back as well. “Let’s not get into that just yet, hm? Take a few days; think about my offer. You may find it starts to seem more appealing in the coming days.”

“I don’t need–” I started.

“Ah, lunch should be here soon. Sit and eat with me, won’t you?”

I stood. “Actually, I’m afraid I have work to do. Good day, Inquisitor.”

“Good day, Leon.”

I left his office and resisted the urge to slam my head against the nearest wall. He wanted me on his side or he wanted me gone; there was no other result that he accept. He was going to come after me, and there wasn’t a lot I could do alone against the power of the Chantry. I half-closed my eyes, hating the possibility of doing what I was thinking about doing, but desperate times. It was entirely possible I was going to need to make nice with Rufais. The Merchant Guilds had protected me from him, but I would need something more than that to hide from the Church.

Fates, I hated politics.

After taking a moment to collect myself, I decided that, while I was still here, I would at least stop by the library one last time. I’d see how long I could keep my head down and how much reading, or potentially stealing, I could get done. I took the most direct route, taking me through the door on the second floor and out onto the balcony of the library itself.

Keeping my head bowed, I looked for a secluded corner area and started browsing. It was an unfortunately short amount of time before I saw someone come up beside me out of the corner of my eye.

“I really don’t have any interest in getting you thrown out of here, but these books are reserved for the Chantry.”

I turned and found myself looking into the slightly glowing and armored figure of a Crusader, something which took me so off guard that I recoiled momentarily. Crusaders were the military branch of the Church; what was one of them doing here? It wasn’t until I saw her long red hair that I was able to place her– she was the other newcomer who had arrived on the Chantry skiff just yesterday. She had also sat in on the negotiations, I realized, though I hadn’t paid her much mind.

“And you don’t see a problem with that?” I snapped, perhaps a bit harshly, still deeply put off from my encounter with Dahl.

“Not really. The Chantry found them, paid for their reproduction, built the places that house them. Why wouldn’t they be permitted to decide who has access.”

“Because they managed to get there first?”

She shrugged. “Maybe someone should make a way for better mass production if you want more accessibility. In the meantime, you’re not supposed to be here.” She reached out to put a hand on my shoulder, to start to steer me away.

I was too on edge to stop myself. I caught her arm by the wrist and used her momentum to pass her arm over my head as I ducked under her grasp. With a specific hand movement, a knife fell into my hand from where it had been safely hidden and sheathed under my sleeve. I had options now– slitting her throat, throwing the blade; the nonlethal actions were unfortunately limited due to her armor, but I’d generally never gone that route anyway.

My brain suddenly caught up with my actions, and I realized I was about ready to murder this girl for the crime of trying to not get me in trouble.

I resheathed the knife and straightened, clearing my throat somewhat awkwardly. “.... sorry about that. Reflexes.”

She still seemed like she was catching up to what had happened as well, which meant she hopefully hadn’t noticed the full extent of my “reflexes”. “No problem,” she said after a short beat. “Not a big fan of touching, I assume?”

I shrugged and offered a half-smile. “Not really, no. Sorry, again.”

“Not that big of a deal,” she repeated. “I do need to walk you out now though. Unless you have a legitimate reason to be in here and armed?”

I belatedly realized that part of the reason for the receptionist desk was probably to make sure I didn’t bring in any weapons, such as, for instance, over a dozen knives concealed on my person. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I had been out with Ava in advance of the visit, I probably would have walked in with my swords too. “I did, but I admittedly do not now. I’ll let you lead the way?”

“Yeah, I appreciate the chivalry and all, but I think you’ll be going first.”

I grimaced, but it wasn’t like I could blame her. “I’m Leon, by the way.”

She breathed a laugh. “I like how you think I didn’t already know who you were.”

“Actually, I was just hoping to get yours in return.” I started heading back, deciding to take the ladder down to the main floor of the library rather than head back through the office area.

She hummed as she followed. “I suppose that’s reasonable. I’m Jesne.”

“Your uniform caught me off guard– I saw you in the armor when you first arrived, but I don’t think it had the Crusader Symbol at the time?” Truth was, I knew it hadn’t had the symbol; I would have noticed that.

“It didn’t; I had removed it for the trip.” She paused like there was more to the sentence, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue.

I took a guess. “You didn’t want to spread rumors of the military arm of the Church heading to Ildanach?”

“Something like that,” she conceded. “Aeron is known for its tendency to gossip almost as much as for its neutrality.”

I breathed a laugh and held the door for her as we passed briefly through the worship hall and back into the massive first room with the dome ceiling. “Fair enough. Mind if I ask the obvious question?”

She smiled ruefully and gestured with her hand for me to continue.

“What is the military arm of the Church doing in Ildanach?”

“One soldier does not an army make,” she said mildly. “I’m just here to watch the High Inquisitor’s back.”

“He doesn’t seem like the type to let you do your job very well. Or am I completely misreading him?”

Jesne looked slightly uncomfortable. “High Inquisitor Dahl does not feel the need for my protection, but he is more than willing to follow Chantry procedure.”

I took another guess, this one perhaps based more off of Dahl’s behavior than hers. “He always picks the pretty girls, doesn’t he?”

“That’s inappropriate.” There was no bite in her words whatsoever.

“What, that I think you’re pretty?” I winked, turning back to look at her as we now stood on the steps just outside the main door, the monks having opened them for us silently.

She laughed softly. “You know, I’m not sure I’ve ever had someone flirt with me who tried to kill me less than five minutes ago.”

I winced. She had apparently caught that. “I didn’t actively try. This would be a very different situation right now if I had.”

“Strong reflexes to being touched on the shoulder.” She arched an eyebrow at me.

I decided to ignore the implied question. “Strong reflexes to being touched at all,” I amended. “Also I was a little jumpy. You know why I was here to begin with.”

“The Inquisitor may have mentioned it.”

“And you followed me after I left his office to make sure I didn’t do anything questionable.”

“I thought you hadn’t noticed.”

“I hadn’t. Not to sound too full of myself, but that’s impressive, especially in that armor.”

Jesne shrugged, but she looked rather proud of herself.

“Thanks for giving me a few minutes to look around.”

She blinked in surprise and then flushed very slightly. “You seemed very enamored. It was cute. Like a puppy.”

I laughed, perhaps a bit more than I should have at that. “I don’t deny it now, but that may be a different story should you repeat it,” I warned.

She nodded. “I won’t go around damaging your reputation with tales of your bookishness, I promise. Though it did spark a question, if you don’t mind.”

“I think you’ve earned a few of those,” I said dryly.

“Why are you a soldier if you like books so much? I can’t imagine your lifestyle leaves you much time to read.”

It wasn’t the question I had been expecting, and it caught me very flatfooted. A lot of answers came to mind, none of them things I wanted to say out loud, some of them things I couldn’t. “Let’s say that this life chose me more than I chose it,” I finally said. “I stopped trying to fight that a long time ago.”

She hummed.

“Mind if I ask you something?” Something else, really, but this was more personal than professional.

“Go for it.”

“Why are you being nice to me, heretic that I am?”

Jesne seemed just as surprised by my question as I had been by hers, and she took a moment to respond, looking down to think before returning to meet my gaze. “I’ve always wondered why we call you that,” she started, and it was not the answer I had been expecting. “You don’t deny the Fates, nor the Ascendants. You just think they have flaws and choose to worship something less… shall we say, fickle? Opposing views, maybe, but I never thought heresy was the right word for it. Heresy implies denial. At least to me.”

“You’re not fully sold on the idea that we’re wrong, are you?”

“I don’t think you’re right. I think the Chantry’s views and ideals are good ones, things to live up to, things to espouse,” she responded quickly. “Sometimes I just think the Chantry itself… got lost somewhere, along the way. I think prosperity bred indifference. The Turyn seem far better at being Turyn than most Chantry seem to be at being Chantry.”

I nodded slowly, processing that, and then did something I had never imagined doing with a Crusader– I held out my hand. “It was nice to meet you, Jesne. I can honestly say that I hope to see you again sometime.”

She smiled back at me and took the hand. “Likewise. And good luck.”

I inclined my head and then departed back down the poorly proportioned stairs while Jesne headed back inside.

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