Weaving - A Spectacle

This weaving occurs right after Godkiller Chapter Summary - 11 - The Masquerade Murder

Magnus disappeared from view as the carriage rounded a corner. The clop of horse hooves, the sound of wheels clicking against cobbles, and the heavy drumming of rain on the cab’s roof reminded her how tired she was. She’d failed. An exhausted sigh left her lips as Kalimae removed her mask. She didn’t know what the consequences would be, but she expected they’d be grave.

“The one who turned out the lights? I’m surprised. I never took you for a theatric.” The individual sitting across from her chuckled with small amusement. Kalimae turned towards him. His form, lit by moonlight shone through the ornate window, was as still as a statue. Ominous. In the darkness of their carriage his pristine, white robes seemed to almost luminesce of their own accord. The distant flashes of lightning caused his metallic mask to glint. Sword-like. An unmistakable danger. Unlike the Ball’s guests with whom she had been forced to spend her evening, this man was known by his mask.

“I’m not. Theatrics have their purpose too.” Kalimae stroked her cat as it crawled up into her lap.

“You don’t have to play coy with me, Lady Sky. Our business is grim. I believe we should find the little joys wherever we can.” Her companion’s face covering was as expressionless as ever. His eyes bore into her. Deep, inquisitive voids. But she could hear the lilt of a smile in his voice. She always could. As if he lacked the ability to worry.

“You don’t seem perturbed by my failing. Lord Renaull lives.”

“Yes. Unexpected, as most in attendance wanted him dead. But as you will soon learn, not everything can be controlled. We adapt. Even the almighty gods failed to protect their own. When one door closes…” His voice was cheery, slightly sing-song.

“So what now? Pressure the other nobles to kill him tomorrow?”

“No. Curtis will live to give his speech.”

“Seriously?” Her brow furrowed, unsure at the sudden pivot.

“Plans have changed. He wants the bomb to go off.”

“What!? You can’t be serious!” Kalime sat up sharply. “Is that not what we’ve been sent here to prevent?”

“Sadly, it is not. We have been sent here to act on his behalf. Not protect. That has been, and will always be our purpose. The shape of the task matters not.”

“Wh- why?” The well-dressed woman sank slightly back into her seat. Regaining her composure somewhat.

“Because you’ve made a discovery. Something that will serve us better than assassination.” He adjusted his own position now, mirroring her. Slowly. As if the motion was painful. Kalimae held her silence, wanting him to make the next move. Her companion seemed to understand this.

“Them.” His wrapped hand made a vague gesture back towards Septurn Manor. Kalimae paused, confused.

“The… party crashers?” She squinted, unsure as to why anyone at that party, besides Lord Renaull and Master Coinge, would be worth their attention now that the bomb was to go off. “I thought they had already served their purpose?”

“That’s what we were told. But they have proved themselves effective during their short involvement with our schemes. I believe he wants to use that. Or perhaps this was his plan all along, I’m not sure. He only tells me what I need to know.” The ever-casual nature of her superior seemed less friendly now. More cold. Kalimae began to sweat.

“Why?”

“He wants to make a spectacle. A show of power.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“When the bomb goes off there will be chaos. We will resolve this chaos.”

“So we will let hundreds die, just to give them a later salvation? And what do those fools have to do with it?” Kalimae scoffed, appalled.

“You will need to grow a thicker skin than that if you wish to inherit, Lady Sky. Sacrifices must be made. It’s a war we are fighting. And do not fret about the details, you merely need to act as our blade in the dark.”

The world went suddenly quieter as the carriage passed into a smooth brick tunnel where the street cut through the first floor of a large building. Rain and Cobblestones no longer filling the silence between words. She could hear it again. That sound. The wretched chorus of her companion’s flesh shifting and sloughing beneath his full body covering. Constant and horrifying. Gideon frightened her, yes, but she had gotten used to his disturbing nature. She had even grown to appreciate his company. However, she had not gotten accustomed to this… thing they followed. The person Gideon, and the others, seem to view as nearly omnipotent.

“What is he?” She asked, voice just above a whisper.

“A man.” Gideon spoke simply.

“Why does everyone say that? As if you’ve all rehearsed it or something. I’ve seen what he can do, what they can all do. They aren’t people like you and me. They’re-” Kalimae was interrupted by Gideon’s gently raised hand, stopping the young woman before she said something she would regret.

“It’s what he asks to be called. And well… there are many stories of those who treated him as divinity…” He trailed off saying the last with a grim implication.