Asunder: A Gathering of Chaos by Cameron Hopkin (electronic book reader .txt) 📗

of mudbooters looking for something to cling to. I left as soon as I could. But no one ever said you’d get in trouble for it. We never saw a Weaver in our town, and nobody ever went as far as the big cities. People don’t… like hearing about the Light here?”

Renna gave a cold smile. “The last person caught preaching the Pure Light in Far East was hung in a cage over the bay for the sea serpents to find. They got her feet within the first day, but she lived for nearly a week. Preaching for the Pure Light is the vilest heresy.”

The girl gaped at her, the whites of her eyes stark against her dark skin, and then she shrank in on herself. “Oh.”

“So imagine my surprise that you would throw the word around so freely in front of so many. And that you would use it as an excuse for those deaths when you yourself sailed into port so very… whole.” She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said the Pure Light kills, child. I’m beginning to think you’re lying. Care to try again?”

The urchin’s hands twisted in knots upon each other and she looked this way and that, trying to find some escape. “I don’t know. I don’t know! At first I thought – it burned so badly, but then I wasn’t – and I thought I’d be blind, but… I kept waiting for my guts to fall out or grow tentacles. And, and… I didn’t. I was perfectly fine.” She threw the verdict out bitterly. “Just me. I don’t know why.”

Renna pursed her lips. The girl’s ramblings were not inconsistent with the priesthood’s logs on these occurrences. Anyone can read a book, though. “You know what they say about the ones that survive the Pure Light, don’t you?”

The girl’s head snapped up, a fire kindling in her expression. “No!” Her fists clenched, and she bared her teeth. Hm. There’s some backbone there. “It’s not true! I mean, of course I know, it’s the whole reason people seek the Light –”

Renna steepled her fingers. Only worshippers call it the Light, girl. You’re slipping.

“– and it’s the evilest thing anybody ever thought up.” Renna could read rage in the ugly twist of the girl’s mouth, in the flush of color through her earth-toned face. If she were lighter, she’d be red as a beet. “The Pure Light doesn’t give anybody power,” she declaimed scathingly. “It’s a lie, a lie that idiots and weaklings use to excuse themselves for sending children they can’t afford to feed out to die. I’ll stake my life on it. There is no power in the Light.” With her fists clenched and head held high, the girl seemed almost righteous in her anger.

Renna said nothing. The girl held up under the green Weaver gaze admirably, but after a long moment the small muscles at the corner of her jaw began to jump and tremble. There it is. The older woman could almost see the thready pulse of uncertainty travel from the girl’s body up into her eyes, and she dropped her eyes to the floorboards again. “It’s a lie,” she insisted weakly. “Your Honor. Sorry.”

The Hand of Gaia let the silence linger as she thought the problem through. She was looking for hidden layers in the little urchin’s speech, but there didn’t seem to be any. The girl’s words leapt forth before she even considered them, her passion and fear flinging her story forth without thought of what came next. It gave her words the undeniable patina of truth and made her strangely compelling. Having spent decades navigating the subtleties of hierarchical power within the priesthood, Renna found herself examining the girl’s manner as one might an unexpected new species of lichen.

The girl would have to die, of course. She was not going to reject the Earth Mother’s gifts when they fell into her lap. She couldn’t even remember the last time there had been an honest-to-Gaia Pure Light cult exposed. If she played this right, she’d be raised back to Third Class where she’d been before that ugly business in the Twin Cities. I’ll have to bypass Megda. Take the girl straight to the Governor, maybe? I’ll have to forge the Mother’s signature again.

There was the inconvenient fact of the girl’s haleness to deal with, as well. Much as everyone would love to watch cultists hang, she wasn’t about to present a Pure Light survivor to the people. It would give rise to the very same tales that the girl was so adamant in denying. Well, that’s all right, though, isn’t it? I’m going to have to get the names of the other worshippers from her. Can’t have a lone hanging – it won’t have nearly the impact such a thing needs. Some disfiguring burns during questioning, sew on a few extra fingers, and I can make any fool believe she’s been in the Pure Light. If she’s nearly dead, that’s a very different thing. Nobody will think too hard when they’re waiting to watch the drop. So long as her tongue still works for the public confession.

Renna would wait, then, before she took her to the Governor – there was work to be done first. She couldn’t use the usual facilities, though, lest those Oakie harridans discover her little treasure here and take it from her. She’d need to rent one of the docks’ warehouses. It wouldn’t be the first time. She’d tell Megda that the girl had died before questioning and that all the talk of plague was nonsense. She’d believe it; Mother Megda had so many other pressing matters that needed her attention. Yes, this will work nicely.

Her thoughts had left her silent too long, and the girl was peering at her curiously while she tried to appear not to. Renna pasted on a reassuring smile. “All lies. You’re right, of course. It’s refreshing to hear a young woman with such good sense.” The dark little girl blinked,