She lingered on that thought, eyes staring out towards the reflective, glossy pane of glass. There, something was staring back at her. A woman, eyes narrowed into that look of piercing madness. Sharp, edged with dark, deliberate lines. Her hair, as always, shone with that lustrous quality, but her face. Half of it was marred, masked with a slimy, greyish slab of skin.
The innocence was gone!
She turned away, taking in the surroundings of this chamber. A simple room, as much as she could tell. An annoying room. And its walls, as was common in Valor, were spotty, like a sleek pane scattered with stony dots—within it, like the personal quarters of the Highness, were specialized frost water tubing. Thus negating the need for the jumbled way froststones were often arranged. The lords knew the livid nature of her awareness. Indignant about anything and everything. Such something as mentally distracting as froststones—now that could not be allowed.
She sighed, stood, sauntering towards the startled Aspirant. His eyes up, monocle sliding down from eye to cheeks, then taping on his legs. He mouthed. "Uhm, your High—highHeir?"
Almost called me Highness, didn't he? Ivory smiled. "Tell me, I hear, you too are a conformist, part of the absentation chapter."
"It's less a chapter and more of a way of life." The man stammered, his eyes searching around for some means of escape. Humans did that—thinking somehow the wild turning of one's gaze provided some strength of safety. Ivory leaned close. When in truth, all it did was reveal the inmost self.
"So tell me," She said, "What do you know about the Comes, specifically the one in the north?"
"Here?"
Ivory heaved. "Yes."
"Not much.."
"Give it a try."
The man coughed, his breath—a stench of garlic and alcohol flowing out. So much for the absentation thing. The fingers were fidgeting—his. "Uhm, I know he is called Actus, and he rules the diocese of the north, which I believe is called Godswood Sphere. Not much is known about him, by me at least. But I know he is a dreamShaper."
Like I am.
"And he often wears a mask."
That perked her cogitation, "What do you mean by that?"
"Supposedly, he dons a bronze mask in the likeness of a child, its corners fitted with tendrils or snakes."
"Which is it?"
"I don't know." The man was perspiring—the fluid dripping from the sides of his skull. The stench was annoying, too. "I think snakes, but I'm not sure!"
"His rank then," Ivory commanded. "What is his rank, and what Symbols is he known for using?"
"Why do you want to know that?" The Aspirant muttered, his head lowered so slightly, his eyes shadowed with a new look of suspicion. That was bad. That almost certainly concluded any further answers as a likely lie meant to deceive what the man would interpret as an enemy of the church.
Which she was, of course... But they didn't have to know that. Not after what they did. She sealed her eyes, drowning in the internal darkness. In the end, the chaos now in Valor was a result of their actions. Their freedom given to the Aspirants in entering or exiting any Clan. That was the only way Kabal could have found entry without discovery.
After all, who goes around searching the 'men of God'?
Ivory smiled, her fingers resting on his thigh—she saw what that effect had on him. Ridiculous. What a stupid creature he was—men. All of them with that stroking weakness to emotions.
A weakness you once had!
She gritted, panted, and said, leaning closer. "Whatever you think I plan on doing is nothing..." She said, "What I am is a loyal member and worshipper of the Almighty and all ten of his aspects. Even his patrons, saints. Believe me, I keep my oaths."
He bobbed his shoulders. "That is good to hear... it is always nice to see a Future Highness that has the truth in their hearts. Maybe one day you will even be invited to the White Keep to learn of the works of God."
"Of course." Why would I ever want that? She offered a giggle—irritating. "But I hear a great man of the church is coming to my land... Ah, I mean, the land of the Almighty. What do you suppose I do?"
The Aspirant chuckled. "You welcome him, of course." He nodded—Ivory too.
"Exactly what I intend to do." She said, "But how would I attend to him when I have zero knowledge of the moment he is to come. What if, as I am human and thus imperfect, was in the means of committing a sin? A terrible thing that I would cry and weep in my bed for. So... tell me, what if he saw that? What if that great man of God saw such a horrible thing?"
He waved. "No, no... I'm sure the Comes would be more than willing to write and burn prayers with you."
"But I will not be alright with myself.. I need to save myself from such a sight... So I must know."
"Ah." The Aspirant mouthed, his white robe wrinkling across his body. "Hmm... I'm not exactly sure, but likely in two days."
"Ah." Ivory's eyes beamed. "Thank you... Praise the Almighty!"
"Halo!" The man echoed, smiling, his head bobbing back and forth in some frenetic passion. How reverent he seemed—if only he were not a puppet of the Church. If only he was not as corrupted as they were. If only he was not part of the boot that supressed her clan. Even now, it is by her power that she is unable to do what needs to be done.
Off with their heads—all of them; The various lords of Valor that had refused her call. But alas, the church would almost certainly intervene with feigned goodness. They would take Valor from her. Not now. Not until she has enough strength to resist!
Her blade went into his throat.
Sudden.
Abruptly, her heart pounding loud, her arm trembling as the once glee-filled man stared wildly at the oredite blade lodged into his neck. He looked to her, blood spilling out, gushing across her darkened dress, spewing over the lustrous hair.
She was painted, a blend of the red, white, and black hues.. While the man, the now dead man, was drawn in contrast. White, red, and dead.
How easy that was. How dangerously easy it was to take a life.
She wiped the blade on his clothes, sheathing it back into the side of her ankles. The length of the dress was enough to hide them. Good. Was it? She chewed her lips. Did I do it correctly?
What if?
And then there was silence that came after. The low gasp by the CleanseWitch, Haggon. Her palm, slimy from the skin patches, had covered her lips, trembling.
Good sense, that one.
She heard me!
Mist!
Ivory pointed at the CleanseWitch, frowned, and looked at her own fingers... They were quaking, heart, beating hard within her ribs.
Mist it!
She panted, a wave of discomfort surging up from the depths of her stomach. Coming. It came like a slam into the head, the world spinning as she fell to her knees, the pain nothing in comparison to the internal vertigo.
Should I have killed him?
What if?
Nail was beside her, sudden as always, her palm resting just there on Ivory's shoulder. It helped—odd. Calling on a wave that came in—a chilling spread that quieted the inmost chaos. Cooling. Everything quickly drowning in that sensational serenity.
Everything.
Ivory felt new again—even the rage, the hate, the pain. All of it was gone.. It felt... good. "What did you do?"
"Made you calm."
"Why wasn't I calm to begin with?"
"You had killed." Nail said, "Despite the so-called absolute control over the mind awarded to Casters, certain things can often slip out."
Ivory stared down at the black floors. "Because of the Aspirant?"
"Yes."
She slapped Nail's arm away. "That's mistsense." She said, turning to the bloodied corpse of the man, his form slumped to the side, still dead.
Dead.
And that brought the stomach-wrenching. She turned and said, "Take him outside of Cintry, maybe toss him into the Blueblood River. And if it came to it, we can blame bandits, Fallens, or any number of things."
Then there was the CleanseWitch. What would I do with her?
"YOU!" Ivory.
The woman trembled, fingers squirming, face waggling.
"Answer me!"
"Yes, your brightCrown—your grace!"
Ivory stepped closer. "Do you have any intention of dying today?"
"NO!"
Nail sighed by the side. Ivory ignored it and said, "Do you then intend to live?"
"Yes!"
"Do you know what that means?"
The CleanseWitch dropped to her knees, legs slapping into the earth. "I saw nothing." She pleaded, white apron clutched beneath her fingers.
"You can't see anything." Ivory corrected.
The woman paled. "I heard nothing. Nothing at all. I know nothing."
"Of course not." Ivory nodded, "But how am I to know that you will continue to know nothing?"
Tears dripped down Haggon's cheeks, staining dank on the dress. "I promise, by the oaths, by Saint Adalbert, by all Aspects of the Almighty."
"What about the Crow?"
"What?"
"The jewed-eyed crow.. The one that represents wealth and the acquiring of it."
"That too..." Haggon said, her tone filled with that deep bewilderment.
Ivory smiled. "Let me explain…Haggon, this means I will now own you from now henceforth."
"A slave?"
"Nothing of the such.." Ivory replied, "We are not like the savages of the Free Cities."
"Then what?"
"I intend to buy your services, personally... You will become my own CleanseWitch and nobody else's... You would do only as I have asked.."
She went quiet.
"That, I take as affirmation." Ivory reached out to her, smiling. "Welcome to my small council."
I am born, I die, I am born, I die—Shortest story from the Fermen—Velira prophecies