The Triad of Penance rules Alabach in parallel to the Crown. Comprising a human (Cathal Carríga), a Simian (Borris Blackhands), and a king (King Diarmuid Third and Nineteenth), the governing body was formed to represent the voice of the people, but Argyll disagrees.

“Having Diarmuid on the Triad does a grave disservice to its original intent. Yesterday, the other two members were pressured into closing our ports, purposely making us appear guilty and weak to the rest of the kingdom. As of this moment, the gates of Penance are open once again. And rest assured, the Crown will no longer interfere with our city.”

***

The Tower of Sin was exactly as Farris had remembered it. The huge stone monument to Simian ingenuity defined the city of Penance, with each district spanning out from it like spokes on a wheel. The tower itself loomed a hundred feet over Farris’s head, but one could only guess at how high it once been before it was ruined. Each stone block was as large a mammoth, arranged with precise cyclopean masonry. The other buildings of Penance were constructed using more recent advances in Simian engineering, but none came close to sheer scale and fortitude of the old, broken tower.

Indeed, even the Lord Himself could not finish the job of tearing it down.

Garth stood beside Farris, taking in the sight of the Tower.

“Sure,” said Garth. “On the outside it looks as fine as it did before you left, but you’re in for a shock when we go in. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I won’t,” said Farris. They made their way up the cracked stone steps which led to double-wide iron doors at the tower’s base. Human men and Simians loitered around the entrance, some huddled in groups, others standing alone. Sin had been a common meeting place for as long as Farris could remember. The upper levels housed the airships of the skyfleet, while tradesmen and merchants sold their wares closer to the ground.

At least that’s how it used to be, Farris reminded himself, eyeing a woman walking by who wore the symbol of the Sons of Seletoth.

The doors of the tower were set open as the two Simians approached. A thick, meandering staircase stood on either side of the entrance, winding clockwise and anti-clockwise all the way to the top of the tower.

“Ruairí says that the preachers occupy the second floor,” said Garth, gesturing to the staircase on the left. “And we have no way of recognising the druid, other than the passcode King Diarmuid gave you, correct?”

“Yes,” said Farris. “If the ship had arrived as scheduled, then he would have met us on the quay. If what Ruairí told us is right, it’s possible he’s a regular here.”

Garth smiled. “You don’t trust Ruairí.”

“I’ve always had an aversion to the religious types.”

“Apart from Derelith, right?”

“True, but I knew him from before he had his….” Farris trailed off, trying to find the right word.

“They call them ‘Seeings,’” finished Garth. “The Sons say that Seletoth contacts them directly, and they learn of truths that the Church has hidden from the world.”

“Truths….” mused Farris. “What kind of things do they see?”

Garth shrugged. “Very few Sons like to talk about their own Seeings. From what I gather, each Seeing differs from person to person. Most go on to dedicate their lives to Seletoth afterwards, while some feel the need to climb Mount Selyth and confront Him themselves. Those are the ones we never hear from again.”

Farris suppressed a shudder. He could relate, and that scared him. Back when he first left for Cruachan, he didn’t believe in the innate power of the Móráin bloodline, but the evidence he found supporting Divine Penetrance changed his mind on that. Then, before he left Cruachan, he had believed he was in control of his own destiny, and all of his choices were his own. Then he met Sláine the White, and her story about a little girl with a head injury.

And the Sons… were they just normal Humans before? A single vision away from giving their lives to their god?

He recalled the image of the woman he had seen at the bottom of the cliff at Roseán, but he dared not name her.

Farris shook his head as they reached the first floor. Stalls and stands were set up all around, selling everything from jewellery and rugs to Simian-made arms and armour. On a good day, one could have found a black-market dealer selling crystals for healing or other minor spells. But those days were long gone now, with the Crown clamping down on smuggling from the Seachtú.

“Derelith told me that some Sons go mad after their Seeing,” said Farris as they continued on up the steps. “Have you heard of anything like that?”

“Well, one could argue that you’d have to be mad to even consider climbing Mount Selyth, but there have been some incidents. I met a Son once who claimed he saw Seletoth with his own eyes. He went blind immediately afterwards. Even the healers couldn’t explain what happened. Others lose their ability to think straight, as if their minds broke upon learning what they call the Truth.”

“Maybe they learned that their whole religion doesn’t make an ounce of sense.”

But Garth did not laugh. “There was a Human navigator on a ship called The Rising Sun, who had a Seeing. Like most of his Simian colleagues, he didn’t care much for the Trinity. Then he became a Son. After that, he was obsessed with the stars of the firmament.”

“Sounds like normal behaviour for a navigator,” said Farris. “Aren’t they all well-versed in astronomy?”

“Not like this. When he became a Son, he left his job and spent every waking hour observing the stars. Not for any practical purposes, no. He just studied them for the sake of it. He was found dead in his lab after a week, from dehydration. He never left to eat or drink or defecate.”

“Is this a true story?” ventured Farris.

Garth nodded. “The City Guard seized his notes, and some were published in the Daily Penance. Pages upon pages of absolute gibberish.”

“Gibberish he felt was worth more to him than his life,” said Farris. “That’s why I don’t like dealing with these fanatics. With a worldview as warped as that, how can any of them be trusted?”

Garth surprised Farris with a smile. “Now you’re thinking like the Silverback.”

Farris’s eyes widened. “I knew it! I fucking knew it! He’s just using them, isn’t he?”

“Well,” said Garth. “Let’s hope it’s not the other way around.”

Farris snorted, right as they reached the top of the second staircase. The Silverback is a master of lies and subterfuge. These zealots would find it easier to recruit Arch-Canon Cathbad to their cause.

When the open landing of Sin’s second floor came into view, Farris’s glee turned sour. Far more people were crowded into this area than the previous, all clustered around a dozen or so speakers, who were raised above the rest on wooden platforms. And there were Simians there too. So many of them! Farris quickly scanned the crowds, and when he saw that his people actually outnumbered the Humans, a slow, creeping panic began to set in.

“Don’t worry about them,” said Garth, obviously noticing the dread that was taking hold of Farris. “The numbers here prove that the Sons are not alone in their hatred of the Church.”

Farris inhaled deeply. “But both Simians and Humans are equal in their love for the Lord?”

“Aye,” said Garth, his voice cool and calm. “That’s another way of looking at it.” He gestured towards the first cluster of worshipers. “Come, let’s find our druid.”

The first preacher they came across was an elderly Human man, dressed in loose, flowing robes. He raised feeble hands over his head as he spoke, but his voice was as strong and as powerful as any youth.

“The Lord’s light should benefit all men and should not be used for selfish means. But there are some in this city who profit—yes, profit!—from his teachings. They call themselves druids and cardinals, canons and arch-canons, all claiming tithes for spreading the word our Lord is perfectly capable of spreading Himself.”

A muttering of agreement ran through the crowd as the preacher paused, his sharp eyes meeting those of each person who stood before him. His gaze fell upon Farris for a half a second. A shot of terror tore through Farris’s body.

“And what about King Diarmuid?” cried Garth, immediately taking the preacher’s attention away from Farris. “Does the light not shine upon him?”

“A holy abomination and a fraud!” cried the preacher. “He is the face of the institute known as the Church, founded for no purpose but to keep us from knowing the Truth! There can be no salvation under Seletoth’s light as long as Diarmuid rules this country!”

“Not our guy,” whispered Garth. “He’s a Son through and through.”

“And a damn fine speaker,” muttered Farris. “There’s got to be an easier way. Wouldn’t this bring more attention to us?”

“True,” said Garth. “We should split up and try to be more subtle.” He nodded towards a female Human standing on the next podium. “I’ll start with her.”

“There are women in the Sons, too?” asked Farris. “That doesn’t make much sense.”

“Well, they also believe that Seletoth bore no sons. Nobody said any of this had to make sense.”