Page 37 of City of Stone and Silence

“I wish I could have met this Silvoa,” Meroe says. “She sounds remarkable.”

Zarun grunts. “In any event, Harak’s offer is about the same as Catoria’s. Anyone who wants to join their order is welcome.” He looks sour. “So we can swear loyalty to a lost Imperial princess, or throw in with a bunch of fanatic monks.”

“Did Gragant say how many people are with the Minders?” Meroe says.

Zarun shakes his head.

“Catoria didn’t mention that, either,” Meroe says. “It makes me wonder if the dozen or so she brought with her are most of her strength.”

“You think?” Zarun perks up. “That puts us in a much better position. If we call her bluff—”

Shiara shakes her head. “I don’t like it. The last thing we need is a fight with other humans, when there’s Blessed-knows-what wandering out there at night.”

“Easy for you to say,” Zarun says, his expression turning dark again. “It sounds like the Cresos would welcome you Imperials with open arms. What about the rest of us?”

“Enough,” I cut in. “We’re not picking a side, and we’re certainly not going anywhere that’s only going to take half of us.”

The three of them look at me, and my knuckles tighten. I take a deep breath.

“So what’s the plan?” Zarun says. “We need food, and from the sound of it the angels only deliver to the three big ziggurats. This Lady Cresos isn’t going to keep sending us gifts after we turn her down.”

“We might be able to scavenge something from the jungle,” Shiara says, “but not indefinitely.”

“They deliver to the three big ziggurats,” I say. “So we’re going to take one of them.”

“Catoria’s?” Shiara says, dubiously. “I still don’t think it’s wise.”

“If we take them by surprise, we can do it with a minimum of bloodshed,” Zarun says. “Isolate the leaders. Hell, most of their servants will probably turn on them given half a chance.”

Meroe looks at me, quietly, and I shake my head.

“The Minders, then?” Zarun scratches his chin. “That’s harder. We don’t know much—”

“Neither,” I interrupt. “Shiara’s right. We don’t need to fight humans when there are monsters out there.”

“You want to attack the third ziggurat,” Meroe says. “Attack Prime.”

“We know even less about him than about the other two,” Shiara says.

“Not to mention Gragant and Silvoa tried that already, didn’t they?” Zarun says.

“I think we have more fighters than they did,” I say, trying to put confidence into my words. “Think about last night. Prime’s monsters were all over us, but we cut our way through them pretty easily.”

“We still lost people,” Meroe says.

“I know. But we had a lot to defend.” I stalk across the room, unable to stay still. “A smaller group, just fighters, would have an easier time. I don’t think those corpses could stop us.” I force a smile. “They’re rotting sure not as frightening as blueshells and hammerheads.”

“That’s true,” Zarun says slowly. I wonder if he’s remembering the nightmare march to the Garden, cutting our way through an endless horde of maddened crabs, pack members dying all around us. It certainly haunts my nightmares.

“What about Prime?” Shiara says. “Do you have any idea who they are, or what they can do?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” I say, recalling blank, empty eye sockets and a cracked grin. “I got a … a message from him, while we were fighting. I think he’s an Eddica adept, like me and Silvoa. He must have come here with Soliton in an earlier cycle.”

“Can you raise the dead with Eddica?” Zarun says.

“Not raise them, exactly,” I say. “But you can make inanimate objects move like living things. That’s what the angels are, so it makes sense that you could make it work with corpses.” I raise my hand. “And before you ask, I have no rotting idea how, so don’t tell me to try it. It just seems like it ought to be possible.”

“So he’s just one man and an army of puppets?” Shiara says. “It’s still mostly guesswork. We should move carefully. Send scouts—”