Fey 02 - Changeling (102 page)

Matthias paced the audience chamber in the Tabernacle.
 
He couldn't sit.
 
He couldn't wait much longer either. Soon Nicholas's people would come after him.

The guards had helped him escape from the keep, thinking he was the one in danger. They had procured him a horse, and let him ride alone across the bridge, following as quickly as they could.
 
When he got to the Tabernacle, he ordered the first Aud he saw to get Titus and Porciluna and to have them meet him in the Audience Chamber.

That had been a few moments ago, but it felt like hours.
 
He had already paced the room twice, ignoring the drawings of the Rocaan, keeping his hands away from the swords.

No matter how much he wanted to lie to himself, he couldn't forget the clank of the sword against his shield, his ability to keep the spark at bay, and the feeling of the light pouring out of him.

Burden had told the truth, and for that Matthias had killed him.

Perhaps this magic was the key to his lack of faith.
 
Perhaps he was a demon-spawn as they had said.

The side door opened and Titus came in.
 
His robe hung loosely.
 
He wasn't wearing a sash.
 
His filigree sword looked almost white against the black of his robe.
 

"You all right?" he asked.
 
He was looking at Matthias's hand. Matthias had already forgotten the injury. The pain seemed part of him.
 
He almost glanced at his hand to see if it had healed itself.

"No, I'm not all right," Matthias said.
 
He paced away from Titus.
 
Ahead of him was a sword.
 
Past that were carvings of the Roca.
 
Everywhere he turned were signs of this religion.

"What can I do?" Titus asked.

Nothing.
 
Everything.
 
Throw holy water. Attempt to take the spells away from him.
 
Give him faith.
 
"Wait," Matthias said.
 
"Porciluna will join us."

And he had better do so soon before Matthias lost his nerve.
 

Before Nicholas and his guards got here.

Before the entire kingdom was turned upside down.

"The guards said you went to the keep," Titus said.

"What I did doesn't matter," Matthias said.
 
He kept his back to Titus.
 
Titus, with his eagerness and his intuitive understanding of the Roca, was exactly what Matthias didn't need.

The door creaked open.
 
Matthias turned, half afraid to see Nicholas in the doorway.
 
Instead Porciluna stood there.
 
His robe was pressed, and he wore rings on each finger.
 
His biretta was placed to cover his balding scalp.
 
He looked official and omnipotent.

"They're saying you were attacked at the keep," he said.

"Close the door," Matthias said.
 
No secrets here, except the ones God ordered them to keep. God or a Rocaan long forgotten.
 
All those years he had planned to spend in scholarship, lost to the day-to-day running of the Tabernacle.
 
All those years of prayer, lost to a
 
morning of revenge.

Porciluna closed the door and came into the chamber.
 
He looked as if he belonged here, his robes flowing behind him, his size giving him a stature and power that Matthias never had.

Matthias bit his upper lip.
 
He wasn't certain how to proceed.
 
But he had to.
 
He had to move forward somehow.

And he didn't have much time.

"I am stepping down as Rocaan," he said.

"What?"

"You can't!"

Porciluna and Titus spoke at the same time. Both men had identical expressions of shock on their faces.

"No one has resigned as Rocaan," Titus said.
 
"It's a post appointed by God."

"It's a post given to one man from another,"
 
Matthias said.

"The Elders will have to approve this," Porciluna said.

"The Elders have no say.
 
Besides, they begged me to step down days ago."
 
Matthias clasped his hands in front of his robe, wincing at the pain that flared suddenly in his palm.
 
"You were behind that, Porciluna. Don't play with me now.
 
You wanted this position so badly you would have done anything to get it."

"Holy Sir, do you know what chaos this will place the church in?" Titus asked.

"The same kind of chaos it has been in for the week," Matthias said.
 
"My leaving will probably help the Tabernacle.
 
That,
 
of course, depends on how you play this."

"You said nothing of leaving," Porciluna said.

"Trust me."
 
Matthias clasped his hands tighter to keep from shaking.
 
"You don't want me here."

"But the Secrets —"

"Titus has the Secrets," Matthias said.

"Titus?" Porciluna's flush grew deeper.
 
He glanced at Titus then at Matthias.
 
"But he's a Danite."

Matthias nodded. "Someone else had to know the Secrets, and it had to be someone who wouldn't try to get rid of me immediately."

"You can't give the Secrets to a Danite!"

"I already have."
 
Matthias swallowed.
 
Titus was staring at him, eyes wide. He was little more than a boy, early twenties if he was that old, faithful and strong.
 
He had to be to endure what was coming next.

"So now you give the Secrets to me," Porciluna said.

Matthias shook his head.
 
"I don't think you should be Rocaan, Porciluna.
 
I think you lack faith, and I think you are motivated by greed, two elements that have no place in the Rocaan's suite."

"You lack faith," Porciluna said.

"And I'm stepping down," Matthias said.

"If you aren't planning to give me the Secrets, why did you bring me in here?"

Matthias shook his head.
 
Whatever his crimes, they had none of the self-absorption that Porciluna had.
 
"To let you know, as the ranking Elder, that I'm leaving.
 
To let you know that Titus has the Secrets."

"And we're to accept this boy as our next Rocaan?" Porciluna said.

Matthias shrugged.
 
"The Elders must decide.
 
I am leaving the post of Rocaan for reasons I will not discuss with you.
 
The old Rocaan thought I had God's Ear.
 
But I don't.
 
And I don't trust any decision I make about my own successor.
 
The council has to decide now."

He walked around them. Titus hadn't moved.
 
Porciluna was shaking with anger.

"You won't be here?" Titus asked, his voice rising.

"I'm leaving," Matthias said.

"But what am I supposed to do?" Titus asked.

"Follow your heart," Matthias said.
 
"Of all the people in the Tabernacle, you're the only one who seems to be listening to God."

"Although you said you can't tell," Porciluna said.

"Do you see what I mean?" Matthias asked.
 
Now that his decision was made, he felt calmer.
 
But he did have to leave as quickly as he could.

"Where are you going?" Titus asked.
 
"How do I find you?"

"You won't," Matthias said.

Porciluna squinted at him.
 
"What happened in the keep?"

Too much.
 
And fortunately, most of it had died with Burden.
 
Matthias certainly would never speak of it.
 
"You'll find out soon enough."

"Are you sure the boy has all the Secrets?" Porciluna asked.
 
His tone had an edge that Matthias didn't like.

"All of them," Matthias said.
 
"Keep him alive, Porciluna, because I'm not going to tell you the Secrets."

"Elders should know," Porciluna said.

Matthias shook his head.
 
"I may be nothing else, but I am a scholar of Rocaanism.
 
Nothing in the Words or in the Teachings state that Elders must keep the Secrets.
 
Nothing even says that Elders should become Rocaan.
 
That's been tradition."

"You're destroying the church," Porciluna said.

Matthias's hand throbbed.
 
Porciluna had no idea how badly Matthias had hurt the church nor how badly he would hurt it if he stayed.
 
He turned to Titus.
 
"Please explain this to the others," he said.
 
"I'm doing this because it's for the best."

"You don't have to resign, Holy Sir," Titus said. "I'm sure we can work this out."

Matthias shook his head.
 
"The Tabernacle is better off without me.
 
You all are."
 
He held up his good hand.
 
"Blessed Be."

Then he let himself out of the Audience Chamber.
 
He was shaking.
 
His last act as Rocaan.
 
His last act in the church.
 
Now he would get as far away from it as he could.
 
As far away from people as he could.

He was demon-spawn.
 
No one should get near him.
 
No one would be safe.

The guards had left, as he thought they would.
 
That meant that someone knew what had happened.

He stopped by one of the ornamental chairs and pulled off his filigree sword.
 
He felt naked without it.
 
Then he removed his sash and placed it on the chair.
 
He couldn't remove his robe --he had no other clothes.
 
He would worry about that later, when he got out of Jahn.

Matthias let himself out of the side door.
 
The sun was still shining.
 
The air was still fresh, and the day was still lovely.

He was the only thing that had changed.

Demon-spawn.

He would never go anywhere holy again.

FIFTY-SEVEN

The boy leaned against the building, his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
 
Niche hovered over him, her hands barely touching him.
 
Rugar sat across from him, seething.
 
The Shadowlands swirled around them, gray and barren, more of a prison than a home.