“He’s gone.” Avery could hardly believe it.
The Father stepped forward, as did the others in his group, and Avery could smell their rotten stink more strongly now. He opened his mouth to say something, to demand they account for this suicide or be held accountable for it, but something stopped him. Seeing the Father this close up, and from this angle, he could just dimly perceive the flesh of the man’s face, and what he saw killed the tirade before it started. Something moved beneath the Father’s flesh. Something like little worms wriggled under the skin beneath his staring, dry eyes and cracked lips. Even as Avery watched, one of the things squirming under his skin disappeared under the eyeball, which then bulged outward, before settling back into place.
Avery rose and stumbled backward. Janx righted him, a look of concern on his face.
“What is it, Doc?”
Avery couldn’t answer. He knew he had just seen what caused the woman to scream. He mentally applauded her ability to do so. His own throat had closed up.
The robed figures converged in a circle over the body.
“What is the meaning of this?” the High Priestess said, just recovering. “I agreed to see your arts, not your … whatever this is.”
The robed figures, not seeming to listen, knelt over the body, removing the gloves from their left hands, then their rights, as they did so, in a synchronized fashion that appeared to be ritualistic. Avery had no doubt that had this been at their own temple or chapel, or whatever the Order of the Restoration used, there would be drums playing or some other sign of building tension and excitement. Something seemed to move along their hands, but Avery could see little of it, as the hands were quickly thrust against the corpse, finding exposed skin or else exposing it first, then clapping hold.
The dead man remained inert for a long moment, then shuddered. Avery sucked in a breath. The corpse kicked a leg. An arm trembled. The robed figures bent lower, seeming to redouble their efforts.
“What the hell?” said Hildra. She had half-raised her hook.
“Don’t,” said Layanna, and Hildra lowered it, but slowly.
On the floor, the dead man was trembling violently, and his eyes rolled in their sockets. Avery thought he could see things moving under his skin, but before the doctor could take a closer look the robed figures produced a robe and pulled it around the dead man, who did not seem to be so dead anymore. Gradually, the trembling stopped, and then he laid still—not the stillness of death but of a man at rest. The circle of reeking, vulture-like priests helped him to his feet, and he, just another robed figure now, joined their ranks. He had become one of them. They all shoved on their gloves and turned to face the High Priestess.
She stared at them, mouth half-agape. With some effort, she closed it, and the two groups regarded each other.
For the first time, the Father spoke, if it could be called that, but what emerged was no true human speech but some hissing, static-y noise that bore no relation to what normal human vocal chords were capable of. If he spoke any intelligible words, Avery couldn’t tell, but the meaning seemed to be something like, Well?
The High Priestess glanced to her Sisters, then to the small puddle of blood on the marble floor. Already flies gathered to it.
“I admit,” she said, slowly, “that was quite impressive, and I wish you well in finding followers. I don’t know how you did it, and I don’t want to know. If it was a trick, it was … very good. If it wasn’t …” She swallowed. “Please, I mean you no disrespect, but I must ask you to leave. Now.”
The robed figures continued to stare at her out of their shadowed faces, their eyes unseen but felt. Were they all corpses?, Avery wondered. Somehow still moving and given some semblance of life? If so, it would explain the smell. But surely such a thing was impossible, even in Ezzez.
“Go,” the High Priestess repeated. “Now.”
Some of the Sisters had remained at the edges of the room, and these carried rifles and spears. At the tone of the High Priestess’s voice, they stepped forward, and their captain told the Father, “I will escort you out.”
The Father made another hissing noise, which might have been meant as a threat or a curse, or nothing at all, then turned, as if to go. Suddenly, he paused, and, slowly, very slowly, pivoted toward Layanna. Surprised, Avery glanced from the priest to the rogue Collossum, but she merely frowned back at the robed figure. The Father continued to stare at her, and Avery noticed the Sisters growing restless. Even Vursk and his soldiers stirred, some lifting their weapons again. Avery wished he could see the Father’s face, see what expression he wore—was it hunger? rapture? hate?—but he could see only shadow where the priest’s face should be and the glint, only the merest glint, of one eye.
At last, the Father turned back around and consented to have his party led from the room. Avery breathed easier when they were gone. A priestess began mopping up the blood.
“Never admit one of them into this temple again,” the High Priestess told one of her people, the senior woman who had spoken earlier, and the woman nodded, a ragged look on her face.
“You shouldn’t have been so civil,” General Vursk said, “I would have shot them for you on general principles if you’d asked.”
“Then I’m glad I didn’t. They are no strangers to death, if you didn’t learn that just now. Whatever they are, we certainly don’t need them as enemies. The city has gotten quite complicated enough as it is.” Her gaze fell on Avery, Layanna and the others. “These are the outsiders who wish to find the nectar?” When Vursk affirmed that they were, she said to them, “I hope you don’t think this is a normal happening. The Order of the Restoration is new. I’ve never seen their like before. And I don’t care to ever again.”
“They weren’t natural,” said one of the Sisters.
“They weren’t of your world,” Layanna said, and she said it with such simple conviction that those in the room turned to her, even the woman mopping up the blood.
“What do you mean by that?” the High Priestess said.
But Layanna would say no more.
Chapter 2
“What did you mean?” Avery asked an hour later, as they were once more trundling through the streets of Ezzez, this time in the convoy that General Vursk had promised them, bound for the last known residence of Losg Coleel, owner and operator of Coleel Industries. The convoy was led by a certain Major Nezine. Green fog coiled around them, masking much of the city from sight. “Back there in the audience room?”
Layanna, who sat beside him (but, regrettably, barely touching him), said, “I … don’t entirely know.”
Janx grunted. He and Hildra sat opposite them in the troop transport vehicle; soldiers ranged to the side, all tense and holding their rifles at the ready. Avery’s party spoke in low voices so as not to be overheard, not that the locals spoke Ghenisan anyway. “Hell of a thing to not know,” Janx said.
“I only know that those things gave off a feeling …” Layanna shook her head. “It’s hard to describe. But I doubt they’re just some random local trouble.”
“You mean they’re relevant to us—our mission?” Avery said.
She bit her lower lip, a gesture that made him want to kiss her, even though he knew she would only refuse him.
“I hope not,” she said.
“Fucking aye,” said Hildra. “I hope we’ve seen the last of those bastards.”
