Mihály put a hand on Csilla's shoulder, tight and searing with desperation.
"If you won't use them, use me. Whoever it is has likely seen me with you enough. I can go places alone. Make myself more conspicuous." Though she wasn't exactly sure how she could become more of a sight than walking arm in arm with the Izir while wearing a fortune in borrowed fabric.
"Absolutely not!" The shock in Mihály's voice rang like the strike of a blacksmith's hammer on iron. "If I lose you, I have..."
"Nothing?" Despairing tears sprang to her eyes. No one was about to let him go cold or hungry, and all he would lose was the lover he would have lost long ago if he'd been any other man. "It's a good plan," she assured him, putting her hand over his as a comfort. And even if it wasn't, it was the best they had.
He gave a tiny, terse nod. "Fine. We'll bring them together. But Ilan, you'd better be watching so nobody gets hurt"
Ilan was still looking at the corpse, lips pressed thin and determined. "Not nobody. Only those who deserve it."
19
Csilla
Mihály's fingers twitched at his collar, pulling it from his sweat-dampened skin. He seemed to think the inn was overly warm, but Csilla's arms were covered in gooseflesh.
"Remember why we're doing this," she whispered. The words half-choked her. People were crowding into the room, and she tried to take the measure of their faces. One might be the killer. One would be a victim.
But now we know, she told herself. We can end the whole thing if we're quick and clever and blessed. The words repeated themselves, building a wall between her mind and the tug of wrongness in her gut.
Mihály looked down at her, then put his hand on her head and smiled softly. She tried to smile back, like this was a perfect idea, like his touch was warming instead of a further pulse of worried ice down her spine. If this was what it took to get him to lead one of his lambs to the chopping block, so be it. She could swallow her doubts and pretend it pleased her. "I'll be watching from the back."
He started to bend closer, but she ducked and scattered toward the edge of the gathering crowd with an apologetic wave. They needed to focus on him, not the attention he was paying to the girl he arrived with, especially when she was bolting the door. She would watch, try to spot the most suspicious, and Ilan would wait outside to test their souls and find the vessel. They might all be gray with listening to heresy, but only one should be ruined black with Shadow.
But they hadn't anticipated how many would show up. There were people from all areas of the city, those whose clothes were mended with coarse thread and those with subtle gold on their ears and necks. Some were even pilgrims or refugees, wearing the kind of clothing that would be dear to import. Death made no distinctions, and so neither did the kind of person who feared it.
So many faces she knew, at least in passing; the ill were the first to search for a miracle.
A hand caught her arm. "Csilla! I've missed you. I couldn't believe when they told me you'd left service."
Elmere. She froze as he kissed her cheeks and fussed over her fine dress with a grandfather's teasing. He shouldn't be out here. She took his hands out of habit, frowning at his loose collar and the rash creeping down his neck. "Elmere..."
"It seems you've been doing well for yourself, though, dear. And you went to the Izir, like I told you." His eyes were nothing but kind, and she hoped he couldn't tell how forced her smile was.
"I'm well enough. But you shouldn't be here. Go home and rest."
Mihály's curious gaze was hot on her back, waiting for her to get in place. She stepped aside, but the old man still had her hand. "And miss his preaching? He hasn't been on the streets in days."
Because of Csilla. No wonder everyone here was desperate to see Mihály again.
"What if I promise you he'll come visit you later? Personally?" She tilted her head, trying to look convincing. "I'm working with him now. You don't have to stay in this crowd. It won't make you feel any better."
"I've already come all this way." But he was unsteady on his feet, and she squeezed his hand.
"Trust me. Please."
He sighed, but the fondness in his gaze squeezed her chest. "I always have, little girl. Well then." They walked arm in arm to the door, Elmere leaning on her for balance. "I suppose standing for hours wasn't going to be the most comfortable experience. But I expect to see you soon."
"You will," she promised, guiding him past the tight-pressed bodies. "Please, rest."
He patted her arm, pausing in the doorway. "I am glad you're doing well for yourself, even if you couldn't take the gray."
Doing well. She tipped up and kissed his cheek again so he couldn't see how her face twisted.
The agitated crowd began to shift and caw.
"Where have you been, Izir? They've no right to stop you from speaking," a dark-skinned man with deep furrows across his brow said. "We need your council."
So many voices chimed in that the individual words were smothered, but bits reached Csilla's ears.
"The deaths prove we've been abandoned. They're saying the bodies are putting the city under some kind of spell."
"Who is ‘they'?" Mihály asked, but any answer was lost in yet more questions and accusations.
"Why hasn't the Incarnate come back? He should be here in his stronghold, not frittering with the governors or pushing our borders."
"We came to Silgard because it was supposed to be safe. Asten isn't going to return if all of us are dead."
Csilla's heartbeat picked up. No one should dare mutter the things they were saying, and here they were, speaking them in clear voices heard by more than just Asten. But a hard knot in her breast told her they were right. The Incarnate should be here. How could the people trust the church if the voice of their god wouldn't come back to salve their wounded faith? The laws of the church were supposed to be the armor that protected people from their own worst impulses and the leaders examples of what it looked like to live in brilliance.
But the Incarnate's absence showed Asten cared more about war than bringing his most holy city to peace.
"Were the victims somehow touched by evil? Have we lost our protection?" The woman's voice was half-wail.
"We have," another man spoke up. "I heard what happened in Kis. The seal was broken, the demon found a host, and they burned the church and everyone in it."
