Fionn guffawed. “He did what?”
“King Diarmuid had been chasing down the Black Sail for years, with Tuathil leading the charge. But since Tuathil was already bought and sold by the Sail, the king thought him incompetent. Then along comes Farris, apparently eliminating a separate criminal organisation without any hassle, and without any promise of pay. It made perfect sense, then, to hire Farris to track down the Black Sail, and put Tuathil on other duties throughout the city.”
Fionn’s eyes widened. “So, with that one stunt,” he said, slowly, “Farris had routed out traitors of the Guild, allowed the Guild to appear disbanded in the eyes of King Diarmuid, got himself a job with the Crown to take down a rival gang, all while also making Tuathil a less valuable inside man by taking him away from their case.” Fionn had been counting off each of these on his severed hand but had run out of fingers doing so.
“Tuathil was outsmarted every step of the way, and never stood a chance,” said Ruairí. “Though, fate would have it that he would wind up in here in Penance by Farris’s side once more.”
“True, but She said that none of this was fated to happen,” said Fionn, without thinking.
Ruairí stirred. “Who said this?” he snapped.
Careful, lad, said Sir Bearach. He wasn’t there, remember? Does he even know the Lady lives under Dromán?
Fionn frowned. His religion would dictate She doesn’t live at all.
He quickly considered his options. None who had seen the Lady had been sworn to secrecy or anything like that. Sure, the Triad’s army were planning to fly out to defend Her in the morning. So Fionn reckoned surely more than just those that spoke to Her knew She existed.
“The Lady Meadhbh,” said Fionn, simply. “We met Her after the Battle of Penance, in Her tomb near Dromán. That’s why we’re flying south. To protect the Her.”
“Is this true?” said Ruairí.
Fionn paused. “Of course. Why would—” He smiled and placed his glass down onto the ground, then folded his arms. “I see. This is why you wanted to speak to me alone. You don’t believe in the Lady.”
“Not as the Church teaches,” said Ruairí. He turned his gaze to the floor. “Perhaps what you saw was a spirit, or an illusion.”
Fionn laughed. “You’re clearly an intelligent man in the know of what’s going on in this city, but your faith is blinding you on this one topic. Why does even it matter what we call Her? A spirit, or a demon, or a god, or—”
“She is no god!”
Ruairí’s voice rose so quickly and so sharply, it caused Fionn to jump with fright.
“How do you know?” said Fionn, his heart still racing. “I was there, Ruairí. She said things that nobody had any business knowing. I had never seen anything like it before.”
“I have,” said Ruairí, “in my Seeing of Seletoth. The teachings of the Church are hundreds of years old and comprise many conflicting scriptures and sources. Perhaps Seletoth spoke directly to King Móráin the First, but whatever He said has since been passed on and filtered through generations of men, twisted and distorted to suit their own needs. And those of the institution of the Church. The tenets of the Sons of Seletoth, on the other hand, come directly from His lips to our ears.”
“Perhaps,” said Fionn. “I witnessed someone having one of these Seeings, you know. My old mentor, Firemaster Conleth, right before he tried to kill me.”
“I remember,” said Ruairí. “You came to the Council to tell us of his death.”
Fionn grimaced as the memory came back. The shrillness of Conleth’s raving. The heat of the flames that tried to consume Fionn. The smell of Conleth’s flesh as it burned.
“Wait…” said Fionn. “In his ranting, Conleth spoke of chaos, and disorder….”
“This much is consistent with those who have Seen,” said Ruairí. “It sounds like he saw too much, though, and it broke his mind.”
“No…” said Fionn. “It wasn’t entirely nonsensical, looking back now. He said Penance was a cancer… a cancer on the Tapestry of Fate. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but the Lady said that everyone is bound to Fate. Everyone but Simians, who can break free. She said that Morrígan was fated to end all life, but because the Simians here fought back, they disrupted the Tapestry of Fate. And now there’s hope that we can win. That must be what Conleth saw! He saw that Penance, a city full of Simians, was capable of disrupting the Tapestry of Fate before they even did so!”
Ruairí didn’t respond. He moved his mouth slowly, as if repeating what Fionn had said to himself. “And after that, did he say anything else?”
“Not that I can remember. His last words were ‘you have no idea what you are,’ whatever that means.”
“No!” cried Ruairí, standing so quickly it caused his glass of wine to smash on the floor. “You must be mistaken. The Lord surely did not show him such blasphemy.”
Fionn narrowed his eyes. He had never seen Ruairí act like this. In fact, he had never seen Ruairí be so… emotional. Before he could respond, however, the clinic door swung open. Lieutenant Bernice stood in its frame.
Fionn struggled to find an answer. Before he did, however, the clinic door swung open. Lieutenant Bernice stood in its frame.
Maybe she did follow us after all, said Bearach.
“Firemaster Fionn,” said the Simian. “We have received word from Plackart. The mission to Point Grey was a success. Ships full of provisions are on the way back here. We fly south at dawn.”
Chapter 6:
The Majestic
For the years that followed, I led my people westwards, across lands unknown. We came across others, Humans just like us, and we took them into our community. We taught them about Seletoth and found that some could even learn magic too. Our numbers grew as we crossed Arinor.
In part, we were fleeing the Grey Plague. Whenever we’d attempt to settle, it was there, in the air, in the soil, killing any chance we had of surviving.
But another force was pulling us westwards. I could feel Seletoth, stronger and stronger with each league we travelled. The home He promised us was so far away, but His love guided me towards it.
And every man, woman, and child that lived followed.
The Truth, by King Móráin I, AC55
***
The army of Penance gathered in the Tower of Sin the following day. A contingent of cavalry waited outside; riders upon elk mounts waiting patiently to board Diplomacy and Lionel’s Grace, the largest of the two airships fitted for the journey. Most of the soldiers wore heavy armour, with long lances and halberds made from Simian-Steel. Others were lightly armoured, with chainmail over gambesons bearing the sigil of the Triad, a blue triangle on a field striped with green and white.
