83. A Long Way to Go

To the surprise of nobody, Gaa’s house guard does try to deny us access to their private harbor, but Rara’s invocation of their matriarch’s name cows them long enough for us to make it to the docks. Unfortunately, Jira’s ship isn’t there yet, but someone else is.

“Aunt Arelii,” Rara greets her as we approach. “Thank you for coming out to greet us.”

Matriarch Arelii Gaa Baanu still looks about the same as the last time we met her, covered head to hoof in flowing robes, with only the barest hints of her family colors in her sash and veil—a light green that accents the brown and beige of her robes. I’m bad enough at reading expressions without a veil in the way, but her eyes don’t look especially pleased.

“Lady Tara,” she replies tersely. “Would you care to explain why you have bullied your way into my harbor?”

“Shaa’s people are shutting down the public dock, and my friend needs a ride,” she replies airily.

The matriarch’s eyes flicker sideways towards us, barely enough to qualify as a glance.

“No,” she declares imperiously.

“May I ask why, my lady?” Rara requests.

“You know why.”

“That’s weird,” Allie observes. “Why isn’t she saying it?”

I’m afraid to actually speak up here, even in our own language, so I try to give an invisible shrug of the shoulders—little more than tensing the muscles, really—in response. Not invisible enough, apparently, because Lady Gaa’s gaze fixes on us immediately.

“Something to say, Maev?” she asks. “Or is hiding behind Goa all you can do?”

Without waiting for a response, she turns back to Rara. “Take caution who you turn your back to, my niece—this one has a knife and a history.”

Wow, okay, no. We’ll have to be diplomatic about it, but we can’t let that one stand. Vi needs to switch with me so—wait, she already did. Oof, ow, ouch—how the heck does she keep a straight face like this?! I feel like I’ve just been through a wood chipper.

“I did as you asked, my lady,” I say politely. “I found the ones responsible for the convergence break. I have not betrayed anybody.”

Her jaw clenches and I feel a weight pressing down on my shoulders painfully. It’s not quite the same as Faarah’s repulsion aura, but similar enough that it’s hard to keep standing as she fixes me with an angry glare.

“You were instructed to bring that information to me,” she hisses, “not use the token I granted you to publicly speak on my behalf!”

“I spoke only for myself,” I counter. “That token just gave me permission to speak.”

Rara gives me a hesitant glance. “Wait, I didn’t hear about this part.”

“No?” Arelii asks snippily. “And here I thought you must have put her up to it. Must have been your mother, then.”

“The decision was my own,” I correct her, furrowing my brows. “And I think I’m missing something here.”

The matriarch crosses her arms and frowns behind her veil. “Then let me explain. As far as any witness to that miserable tribunal is concerned, you have publicly accused house Shaa of treason—on my authority. In other words...”

She has accused Shaa of treason—frick! I thought it would just grant me recognition, if it even did anything at all. It was sort of a gamble, but now I can see why Erik was cringing so hard the whole time.

“What’s worse,” she goes on, “is that I cannot now rescind that claim without making an even further embarrassment of my house. Lady Shaa will use her knowledge as High Inquisitor to implicate Gaa in order to deflect from her own family. You have locked me into a conflict I cannot afford, one that threatens to weaken both the church and the nobility in a single stroke.”

The nobles, because obviously two houses in open conflict is bad, and the church because each of them represent different factions within it.

“Lady Shaa is dead,” I inform her. “As are Lady Faarah and Sir Draga. And everything I said was true—”

“The truth does not matter!” she shouts, breaking her composure completely for the first time that I’ve ever seen. “The truth is whatever people think it is. The truth could have been that my daughter’s death was a tragic accident—the incompetence of a nameless nobody uplifted by his noble company and the sympathies of a lowborn grandmistress. Lady Faarah loses some face and weakens her grip on the rangers, but nothing further comes of it. Clean, simple.”

I purse my lips, irked by the disrespect for Draga, especially after his death, but she’s not done yet.

“Now, the truth is that I hold Shaa responsible,” she sighs. “The truth is that the inquisition is corrupt from top to bottom. My son-in-law betrayed our family, I am stuck in a war that I was not prepared for, the church is in danger of suffering a schism, and the one responsible has the gall to come begging to me for assistance? To think that when we met, I planned to forgive you.”

She what? I blink. “Y-you knew...?”

Arelii smiles mirthlessly. “I am a priestess, dear. I could see the guilt and contrition burning in you like a bonfire. It was obvious from the very second I laid eyes upon you.”

“Then why all the...?” I gesture vaguely, at a loss for words.

“To avoid this very situation,” she huffs. “Do you have any idea how delicate a position Kiera’s death put this city in? She was under Lady Talla’s protection, guarded by an inquisitor, and investigating a conspiracy that spans hundreds of years and involves multiple noble houses. This empire is held together by wax and prayers and you’ve just lit a bonfire under it. I had hoped that by bringing you into the fold, I could limit the amount of damage you did long enough to navigate this crisis delicately.”

“Lady Shaa arranged for those rioters to be there,” I tell her. “I can’t prove that, but I’m almost certain of it. And when she killed Lady Faarah, she commented on how it would have been better to get Talla instead.”

Rara whirls to face me, eyes wide with alarm. “She said what?!”

“She wanted this war,” I conclude, sounding it out as I go. “It was her plan from the beginning, and the only person who figured it out was Tamara. That’s why she made sure that Talla wouldn’t be there. She knew. She fricking knew, and rather than tell anybody she just took steps to make sure that her family wouldn’t get drawn into it.”

Arelii sighs, a heavy, tired thing that carries the weight of an entire nation upon it. “Yes, that does sound like my sister-in-law. If the rest of us are weakened, it puts her in a stronger position. I trust her enough to have made an effort to stop it, but I am not surprised to know that she prepared contingencies.”

“You would have done the same thing,” I realize. Not so much an accusation as an epiphany.

She inclines her head. “Perhaps. Even now, I find it difficult to condemn her outright. It was very well played.”

Rara looks anxiously between the two of us, but whatever she was about to say is interrupted by the distant sound of a commotion steadily growing closer. A haggard and worried young runner with the slim deerlike build I see on some Fa’aun dashes past us to deliver a report to Lady Gaa.

“My Lady! A force of inquisitors has broken into the district!”

Arelii frowns. “What are they doing?”

“Chasing a runaway ship, my lady.”

As if on cue, the imposing figure of Jira’s vessel surges into view, cutting across the river at seemingly impossible speed, leaving a wake behind it that splashes its way up the steep riverbanks and onto the streets.

“It seems that everybody has decided to violate my territory today,” the matriarch huffs irritably. “Have the inquisitors offered violence to any of ours?”

The distant reports of firearms pretty much answer that question for her, but she lets the runner reply.

“Only threats, uh, last I saw,” she hedges. “I believe they are trying to stop the ship.”

Arelii purses her lips and glares at me with a hard expression.

“I should have you executed for this,” she seethes. “But it would accomplish nothing and alienate me further from my sister-in-law, who will no doubt be a crucial ally in the war you’ve dragged me into.”

She gazes into the distance and sneers.

“Blood and acid—spilling blood in the streets like tribal savages,” she mutters darkly. “Pray to the Goddess, Maev, that we do not meet again, for I suspect that the coming days will do nothing to cool my temper.”

The matriarch turns away to address her guards. “The inquisitors overstep their authority and act on behalf of a single family rather than the church or crown. We cannot allow them to trample us underhoof.”

She strides off in the direction of the commotion, pausing to glance down at Rara.

“Lady Tara, should you and your men elect to join me in the defense of my home, I suspect I will be too busy to enforce port regulations.”

Rara blinks and swallows nervously, sparing me a worried look. “Uh, I think I see what you’re saying, my lady, but my mother might get upset with me if I involve our house in this, erm, incident, without consulting her.”

“I imagine she might,” Arelii agrees. “But she is not here, and if I’m not mistaken, your sister is onboard that ship. The decision is yours.”

Our friend grimaces, hesitating for just a moment before groaning. “Ugh, fine! Frick it all, I’ve still got a long way to go before I reach you or Mom’s tier.”

The matriarch smiles mirthlessly at her niece. “You’ll make a fine matriarch one day, I’m sure.”

“My sister is the heir,” Rara reminds her.

“Mm. A long way to go, indeed,” Arelii sighs. “Come now—time is of the essence.”

The noblewomen and militia swiftly move out, and Rara stops just long enough to look back at us.

“Good luck, Maev!”

I watch them go in stunned silence for a moment.

“What just happened?” I mutter under my breath.

“Your friend just exchanged her family’s support for your life,” Msshi replies, startling me. I’d almost forgotten he was there. “Let us not waste her sacrifice.”

That snaps me out of my fugue, and I turn my attention to the approaching ship. By now it’s close enough that I can see a bright blue light shining from the deck—Talla’s magic. It’s coming in awfully hot and not slowing down at all.

“Oh frick!” I curse, scrambling for the docks as fast as I can. “Come on!”

Despite my head start, Jira’s ship is so much faster on the river than I am on foot that it’s almost comical. We’re not going to make it to the docks on time, and even if we do, how the heck are we supposed to get on the ship when it’s moving that fast?

“Vi...hah...Maggie,” I call between panting breaths as I push through the pain to run as fast as I can. “Any ideas?”

Before they can reply, Msshi scoops me up into their burly upper arms, being surprisingly delicate with their large clawed hands, and shoots forward in a frightening burst of speed.

“Holy frick! How are you so fast?!”

“People think we are slow because we are large,” they reply with a sharp grin. “In truth, we just overheat and tire quickly. I cannot do this for long.”

“I can help!” Evie exclaims. “My spell can keep them from overheating, at least!”

I place a hand over the serpentfolk’s claw, already fairly cool to the touch compared to a normal Fa’aun body, but I know that their natural body temperature is much lower, and after having helped more than a few in Talla’s clinic, I’m familiar with where the right level is supposed to be.

[Control Fever] fights me a little bit, since heat exhaustion isn’t quite the same as a fever, but it’s close enough that it’s only a minor struggle. The results are immediate, and the flagging snake person picks up the pace again, offering me a grateful smile.

“You truly are a friend of the People!” they wonder. “A skill like that will make you many friends, should you visit the old tribes.”

We arrive at the docks without much time to spare, rushing to the end of the largest empty one as Captain Jira’s vessel barrels down the wide river towards us at speed. It’s close enough now that I can see her at the helm, grinning madly as Fargo shouts at her—though I can’t hear what he’s saying.

I swallow nervously as it approaches with no sign of slowing down.

“Now what?”