Beneath the island, Elfitine walked with careful purpose. The expansive tunnel she walked through, hewed entirely out of bedrock, caused her footsteps to echo around her in the darkness.
I wish I didn’t have to do this, she thought with a sinking heart.
The series of the island’s stone tunnels formed a vast passageway entirely underground. The tunnels covered a great distance, and were so monotonous that even their relative simplicity couldn’t save a new visitor from getting lost. The smooth, stone walls held a number of filled candleholders that still barely helped break the deep darkness. Holes were carved in certain areas of the ceiling to let in additional sunlight, and a sign directed the way at every turn, but the additions weren’t enough; an inexperienced tunnel-dweller still required a lamp and a map to keep from wandering aimlessly in the dark.
Elfitine eventually came to a door. She took a long breath before knocking; although she had visited the room countless times, she still felt nervous whenever she reached it.
“Who is it?” asked a voice behind the stone.
“Elfitine,” she answered, her voice almost even.
“Come in; it’s not locked.”
Elfitine excused herself as she opened the door.
The first thing she saw as she stepped inside was the metal object from the back of the room. The contraption—which had probably been assembled inside the room, as it was bigger than the door—was formed from six cylinders arranged in a circle, each large enough to hold an adult body. In the middle of the circle was a sphere with a complex pattern carved onto its surface. Each component was connected with thin metal rods.
Elfitine had always thought the contraption looked like an otherworldly pagan alter, but Reynard called it a “booster” and said that it magnified spells. Perhaps the design or the sphere’s carvings were familiar to sorcerers, but Elfitine didn’t know—Reynard was the island’s only sorcerer.
The booster stood at the near edge of a terrace that looked down onto a vast open space. The magical item and the terrace stood out significantly from the other ordinary furnishings in the room, but Elfitine had grown used to the oddity. Since the day she had joined him, this room had never changed.
“Sir Ganvas,” she greeted timidly. Although she called him by his first name while the two were in public, she was far more comfortable using formality with him in private. She did it of her own volition; although he said it was unnecessary, she still felt him admirable enough that she owed him humble reverence.
“What’s the matter?” Reynard asked as he turned to her. His eyes shone green from behind his mask. “Did the rain cause more damage than you expected?”
She shook her head. “Everyone was just out doing the inspections; the damage from the rain wasn’t serious. I’m afraid those inspections are the reason I’m delayed in telling you this.”
“Telling me what?”
For a moment, Elfitine was at a loss for words. It hurt her to pass on information that she knew would displease him. “Quart saw an Inquisitor in town, sir.”
Reynard didn’t seem particularly surprised. “Did he?” he asked. “I expected them to show up eventually, but it’s still important that you confirm this. You’re sure it was an Inquisitor?”
Elfitine swallowed.
It was a delicate time for them—the project they had spent ten years working on was about to be completed. The appearance of an Inquisitor meant that all of their efforts could go to waste.
“To be accurate,” she clarified, “Quart received the news from his sister, Cuphon.”
“Cuphon Spectore? Where is she now?”
“According to Quart, she was going to rid us of the prosecutor herself.”
Reynard paused. “That’s ridiculous,” he said at last. “Why would she do such a thing when the priest’s occupation hasn’t been confirmed? And even if he is an Inquisitor, he might just be passing through by coincidence. Causing trouble is only going to increase the chances of us being discovered.”
Reynard’s tone hadn’t changed, but his words still stung Elfitine. She swallowed. “Yes, sir. But Cuphon’s parents were—”
“I know, but that’s all the more reason we shouldn’t resort to emotional outbursts or violence.” He said the words quietly and rationally, as he always did. Elfitine had never seen Reynard shout or cry—he was a kind, fair leader who remained calm in any circumstance. For this reason, his criticism sunk all the more deeply into the hearts of his listeners.
“To begin with,” Reynard explained, “I don’t believe there’s anything wrong with the doctrine of Mauserism itself; their ideals of salvation and mutual aid among people should be commended. Furthermore, it’s anyone’s right to believe them. What we condemn is the policy of the church leadership, specifically its aggressive proselytizing and elimination of other religions. We are here to condemn, not take revenge. To kill in a fury would be to stoop to the level of the Mauser church leadership, who force their ways onto others.”
Elfitine dropped her head. “I-I understand… sir,” she answered softly.
Perhaps Reynard saw her shoulders tremble, because he let out a small sigh. “Forgive me, Elfitine. There’s no point in lecturing you—I’ll have a word with Cuphon myself. But still, we should keep an eye out for this priest. Let’s send someone out to Mosburg to—”
A knock sounded at the door.
Reynard became silent and looked over Elfitine’s shoulder at the door.
“Sir Ganvas!” someone called. “Is Sir Ganvas there?”
Elfitine moved to open the door. There stood a middle-aged man. He must have come running down the tunnel, if his heavy breathing was an indication. He still took a moment to bow in respect to Reynard and Elfitine.
“What’s the matter?” Reynard asked.
“There’s a shipwreck near the western cliffs, sir.”
Reynard paused. “A shipwreck?” he repeated.
A ship sinking was rare; the ships of Mosburg were constructed with knowledge accumulated from being on a trading route for more than a thousand years. The larger ships, which utilized the power of horses and cows, would not shipwreck unless the river became completely unmanageable or there was a major problem with the ship’s machinery. And the small boats—which were powered by oars and paddles—clearly wouldn’t be out in the rain.
“Are there any survivors?”
“Yes, sir. We haven’t determined the exact number, but there appear to be a few. One of them is dressed in the clothing of a Mauserist priest.”
Elfitine gasped. But Reynard, as usual, gave no more emotion then a slow and careful nod.
“All right,” he said evenly. “I’ll come myself.”
The Inox was stuck on a corner of the cliffs.
In all likelihood, it was at one of the islands that dotted the Mosburg river. In contrast with sandbanks, which were formed by the accumulation of earth and sand, those islands seemed be giant rocks dug up by the flow of the river.
They came in a wide variety of sizes carved by the river current, and thus formed unpredictable and precipitous cliffs on all sides. They were not suited for human inhabitance or proper docks.
“Nngh…” Shannon slowly lifted his head, keeping one fist pressed tightly against his forehead. It took him a moment or two to blink clarity back into his eyes.
He didn’t know how long he had been unconscious, but seeing that he was still alive, it couldn’t have been for more than half a day. At least I am alive, he thought as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. Raquel was an extremely capable sorceress, but even she couldn’t maintain Midgard with a high shielding density for very long.
He found Pacifica and Raquel on the built-in couch. Berkens must have placed them there, especially since a blanket rested atop each sister. Shannon quickly checked their vital signs, then sighed when they proved fine.