Page 76 of Reap & Sow

Eda wavered at the sight of the humming crowd. They whispered to one another, stared in rapt attention at the dais below.

She knew the mantle worked, but it was little comfort as she made herself walk straight past them. She needn’t have worried. It was Ben and Lawrie people glanced up at. Ben turned his face away, as though it might hide his swollen eye.

Ahead, an aging wooden door was propped open. The staircase. Eda’s heart tripped with giddy hope. Just a little farther.

“—but now in our hour of greatest need, our prayers are heard. By shedding blood here in this great house of worship, we each of us make a covenant. A promise of eternal devotion.”

Eda paused.

From a lectern of solid gold below, Bishop Fane’s address rang throughout the nave. A line of Blades stood to attention behind him. His cream robes were starched and crisp. “I have consulted with the Council of Clerics. It is my belief that the same power I wield may yet be shared with all of you. His Worship the Patriarch has recognized the blessings bestowed upon me and has wisely permitted this sacred ritual to be offered to any Faithful who seek protection.” Fane’s voice was resonant and commanding. He spoke with the deliberate inflections of a politician, every word achingly earnest. If she didn’t know better, Eda would have believed him.

Anger stirred like bile. How easy it was for him to hide his true face. How effortless.

“Eda.” Ben poked her. People were frowning at them. They were blocking their view.

Below, a great brass bowl sat upon the dais, as big as a carriage wheel. A line had formed between the pews. The first man waiting knelt upon the dais steps. Fane withdrew a small blade.

Her eyes snagged on the scene like fishhooks. What had Kit said? It’s not unheard of for a contract to be signed by many rather than one.

So this was how he’d do it. A mass bloodletting, disguised as a promise of holy devotion. A mixture of countless folk’s blood, ready to be added to a Pact. She watched as Fane spoke in a low voice to the man, who nodded over and over in agreement. The terms, she supposed. One couldn’t take years against a dealie’s will. What was he telling him? What twisted language did he use? Do you offer the years of your mortal life in the name of salvation? Will you freely give whatever the bearer of this power demands?

The man’s hand was cut. Blood dripped into the golden bowl just as Martine Tenelle slipped through the chantry doors.

Saints.

Ben shoved her. Around them, the gallery shifted with curiosity as Fane listened to Tenelle’s whispers in his ear. His eyes flicked upward. Eda didn’t know if he could see her or only her brothers. It didn’t matter. She broke into a run.

They piled down the spiraling staircase. Her whole body ran cold, buzzing just as it had when they’d fled into the cellar the night the Blades came. They can’t take them again. I won’t let them. She’d given fifty years of her life for this. They’d have to cut her down before she saw Ben and Lawrie dragged back into a cell.

The three of them burst into the foyer. The crowd turned in their seats to look. Blades hurried down the sides of the nave, Tenelle leading the way.

“Be calm,” Florian called. He held his arms up, the bloodletting knife gleaming red. “You are all well protected here.”

Tenelle drew her sword.

“Run,” Eda hissed.

They barreled through the doors and into the violet evening light. Three Blades stood at the bottom of the steps, turning in surprise.

Ben brought up his stolen sword. He knew how to use it, theoretically, but he was underfed and weak. Eda had only a knife, and Lawrie nothing at all. Where was Kit?

The Blades rushed them. Ben met the first with a vicious strike, silver clashing against silver.

They don’t see me! Heart pounding, Eda slipped around the second Blade advancing on Lawrie and slashed her knife at his side. The Blade roared, lashing out wildly and nearly knocking her over. Hot blood splashed across the cobbles. She thought of Gregory, and her gorge rose like a summer swell.

The third Blade saw her now. Tall and broad, he could knock her down with one strike, but he didn’t need to; he raised his crossbow. Lawrie cried out in warning.

A flurry of black feathers collided with the Blade’s head, screeching and clawing viciously. The man dropped his weapon, furiously batted Kit away, just as Martine Tenelle appeared atop the templehouse steps.

Ben stumbled clear of his opponent. He was on the defensive—no match for a trained fighter. “Go, both of you!”

Eda grabbed Lawrie by his pilfered doublet and dragged him onto the street. They’d hoped to have Kit take her brothers out of the city on horseback before anyone knew to chase them. No chance of that now. The best they could do was try to outrun the Blades before—

Something knocked her to the ground. Her shoulder took the worst of it. Pain lanced through her side; Eda gasped, stunned. Tried to get her knees beneath her. The cobbles were damp and slippery as she clawed to right herself. A voice cried out, frantic as a trapped animal. Her pains became mere echoes.

Lawrie. Lawrie was screaming. Eda twisted to look.

Her brother writhed as he was dragged across the ground, eyes round with fear.