At this, the expression of the men became hostile again. Shannon wasn’t surprised that they were upset at being questions.
“I heard that she was killed shortly after birth,” Shannon added, a hint of defiance in his voice. There was no way of telling if Reynard and the men had detected it.
“That’s the official story… and I’m not even sure we can call it that.” Reynard turned away. “In reality, she was set free by the first queen, Elmaya, who took pity on her.”
The words made Shannon pause. As far as he knew, Reynard was right. The man had probably patched together his own version of events, but it did, coincidentally, match the truth.
For a brief and terrible moment, Shannon almost thought that Reynard did have the real Scrapped Princess. The idea that his father had been mistaken about Pacifica wasn’t altogether unbelievable.
Shannon blinked. What’s wrong with you?! he thought angrily, and nearly slapped himself. If Pacifica wasn’t the Scrapped Princess, his father and many others had died in vain. Taurus had been ravaged by mistake. Shannon would have to live with that shame and regret for the rest of his life.
Yet a part of him still hoped for it, because it would save his little sister.
Shannon gritted his teeth. Stay focused, he warned himself, and Reynard’s words slowly recaptured his attention.
“Furthermore,” Reynard said, “our lady can read time.”
Shannon furrowed his eyebrows. Had he missed something?
“The honorable Elfitine has eyes that can see the future and the past,” Reynard explained. “Perhaps this was why the church of Mauser wishes her dead.”
“You mean she’s a Picurean,” Raquel murmured. “What the church of Mauser calls Spawn.”
A quiet but clear voice suddenly cut through the party from behind. “Reynard,” it said.
Shannon turned. A young woman walked up to the party, the trim of her blue dress swishing as she walked. Reynard bowed courteously, but the men dropped to their knees in clear and earnest respect.
“Honorable Elfitine,” Reynard said in deference.
Shannon noticed Pacifica’s eyes widen in surprise. Elfitine, who seemed to be about Pacifica’s age, also shared Pacifica’s golden hair and blue eyes. That, however, was where the similarities ended—Elfitine’s hair was long and straight, and her eyes held a quiet grace. She was beautiful but not attractive in her dress, almost as if the sex appeal had dropped from her in light of her purity. She was just stiff enough to imply a regal dignity.
“Are these the people who washed ashore with the Inquisitor?” she asked in a cool and transcendent voice.
Shannon wasn’t intimidated. “You’re the Scrapped Princess?” he asked.
“I hear that is what they call me in the outside world.”
“I didn’t expect you to be so… mature.” He shot a sideways glance at Pacifica, and she scowled in response.
“My name is Elfitine. May I ask yours?”
“Shannon Casull,” Shannon replied, holding up his hand to silence Pacifica’s comment before she could make it. “This is my twin sister Raquel, and that’s my younger sister, Pacifica.”
The girl approached Shannon and his sisters, but stopped five paces short of them. Shannon thought that was a bit far for a conversation, but then realized it was probably for show; keeping her breathing out of earshot probably increased her mystique.
Shannon gazed deep into the girl’s eyes. They showed no emotion, but he could sense a tiny wavering. Her emotions weren’t dead—she was just holding them in.
She met his penetrating gaze, but only for a moment. She was the first to look away.
“I guess you’re the person to ask,” Shannon said after a pause. “What’s going to happen to us? We want to return to the shore. We need to get back to… the ‘outside world,’ I guess you call it.”
Reynard slid between Shannon and Elfitine, as though to interrupt his question itself. “That won’t be possible.”
Shannon narrowed his eyes. “Because you have to protect your secret?” he asked flatly.
“Yes. There’s no guarantee that you won’t give word of us to the Mauser church or the Linevan kingdom. If they learn of our existence, they will surely come to eliminate us.” Reynard shook his head. “Until we gain sufficient power to condemn them, and until we return to the outside world, we can’t release you. But I guarantee that will be soon.”
“Sufficient power?” Shannon repeated. He wasn’t exactly sure what Reynard was talking about, but such a large-scale “condemning power” sounded both ethically shaky and extremely difficult. If Reynard planned to use honest methods, his mission was virtually impossible; Mauserism was the oldest and largest religion on the Dustovin continent, and if one included its various sects, there were nearly a million priests and several hundred million followers. Politically, economically, and militarily, it was not the sort of organization that could fall to less than a thousand protestors.
“You came during an important stage of our activities,” Reynard explained. “We can’t afford to have any disturbances.”
“Then why don’t you just kill us?” Shannon glared. “It’ll save you time and cut your risk,” he added sarcastically.
“That would make us no different than the Mauser church. If necessary, we will fight, and if it comes down to it, we will kill. But we prefer alternate means.”
Shannon sighed. “How noble,” he muttered. Reynard’s philosophy was just another version of “killing when necessary.” Shannon and his sisters wouldn’t make that decision.
“Whatever,” Shannon said at last. “We’ll do what you say for now. To be honest, we’re fleeing the Mauser church ourselves.”
Elfitine tilted her head slightly. “Weren’t you traveling with an Inquisitor?”
“We were just sharing a boat. He doesn’t know that our parents stole a sacrilegious item years ago. The church sent Purgers after us and everything.” Shannon neglected to mention that the sacrilegious item was Pacifica.
“Purgers?” The very word seemed to shock the men and Elfitine. There was no way to see Reynard’s expression, but he seemed to take interest.
Purgers were the newest branch of the Mauserist persecution forces who had taken over the role of the Inquisitors. They were practically a myth, considering how rarely they were seen and even more rarely escaped.
“You fought them… and won?” Reynard asked slowly. “You defeated the Purgers?”
Shannon had already noticed that Elfitine was probably a figurehead—Reynard was in charge. He met the man’s eyes squarely.
“With a little creativity, yes. I can see why you’d think this place is a good hideout,” Shannon gestured to their surroundings, “but the Mauserist leadership isn’t stupid. There are already rumors of a heretical group led by the Scrapped Princess, and now you’re holding an Inquisitor. When he doesn’t come back, they’ll find you.” He shrugged. “It’s a miracle you stayed hidden for this long.”
There was a pause. Then, surprisingly, Reynard gave a nod.
“You may be right,” he agreed calmly. “But very soon we’ll be strong enough to challenge the Mauser church.”
And then, for a brief moment, Shannon imagined that mask breaking into a thin smile. “When that happens,” Reynard said, “things will change. The church will have to treat us with very great care.”
Hoping for the best but expecting disappointment, Berkens knocked lightly on the wall.
The rock was cold and solid. Berkens sighed. Even he knew better than to try breaking through a wall carved out of stone using nothing but his fists.
It had been a day and half since he’d been separated from the Casulls and locked up in his own cell. Possibly because he was an Inquisitor, or possibly because he looked like he could break through the walls of a regular building, Berkens was locked in a stone room that was far more like a prison cell than the room that had contained the Casulls.