1??????????Soul Bound
1.2????????Taking Control
1.2.2??????An Awakening Epiphany
1.2.2.35???Forgiveness
The skald was a very fit young Scandic woman, wearing decoratively tooled soft leather clothing. In a clear voice she chanted a long ballad with strong internal rhymes, entitled “Maiden’s Fall”.
The story was a tragedy, set during the invasion of Burgundy by the Teutonic League, before wars between regions were ended by Kukai the Bold. It told the tale of Archmage Camilla, the Maid of Gombardo, who was torn between staying with the Burgundish forces to protect them from the Teutons, and leaving them in order to venture deep into Transylvania to renew the seals upon Seth, the immortal son of Rac and Bel, before he could awaken and destroy the world.
Eventually, in a desperate move, she stood unarmed between the two armies and made an an impassioned speech not to the Teutonic warlord but directly to the mages, arguing that if Covadan could not put aside their hatreds long enough cooperate, then maybe they deserved to be wiped out.
Harmon, a necromancer and the strongest of the Teutonic mages, answered her call, and together they set out for the monstrous city of Chindiei; but they were too few, and too late to prevent the rise of Seth’s ally, Niba the Lich Queen, Niba the Mother of Treachery. Niba, who used her legendary powers of illusion to haunt Harmon with visions of all the horrors from the war.
Overcome with hatred, Harmon betrayed Camilla, forever gaining the name of Harmon the Vile, and leaving her isolated behind enemy lines, stripped of her magic and equipment. The tale ended with Camilla sacrificing herself to avoid being possessed by Lilith, the Empress of all Ghosts, and with Rac sending a bright comet across the sky as a promise that Camilla’s tale would enter legend, ensuring that her like would one day appear again.
Kafana started working her way around to where Nicolo was sitting with Vittoria. It looked like the procession would start soon, and she wanted to share more songs with him, and maybe some defensive magic. But part way around she was intercepted by an adventurer, who her user interface identified from her contact list as being “Rudy (from Villa Landi).”
Rudy: “Hey Kafana, do you have a minute? We’ve been trying to track down Grattelard.”
Kafana: “Sure. And by the way, thanks for all the help setting up the volleyball event.”
He gave a boyish grin.
Rudy: “The 18 of us have stuck together, ever since we met you and Tomsk. Following up the loose ends and clues from your recordings has been the most fun any of us have had in years. So we’ve spent the last few hours checking out the ‘De mortuis nil nisi bonum dicendum est’ quest you passed up on, and searching for information about assassins.”
Kafana: “What did you find?”
Rudy: “Nothing about Grattelard’s current location, though in the past he’s been seen playing in Alto, Mercato and most often in Centrale. Rumour has it that he’s the White Lily and he lives in a secret lair under the Arsenal, but that’s not first hand. Unfortunately, we did find out lots about Antonio.”
Kafana: “Oh?”
Rudy looked sad. “Are you sure you want to know?”
Kafana thought about it. From what others had already said, she was pretty sure Antonio did things Lelio wouldn’t approve of, but he was beyond harm now.
Kafana: “Yes, tell me.”
Rudy: “Antonio worked for Grattelard. Not just once or twice. For more than a year he’s been spying for him, trailing people, doing things like planting evidence or providing alibis. I’m sorry, Kafana. He was almost certainly spying upon you too.”
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A flurry of thoughts went through her head, ranging from “that little bastard” and “did Nicolo know?” to “why would he choose to work for Grattelard?” and finally, as she remembered his face and his body language the final time she’d seen him when he’d given Nicolo a fierce hug before heading off towards the fatal rendezvous with the assassin, “he didn’t want to do it. Grattelard was coercing him somehow”.
Nicolo. Nicolo who’d been captive at the brothel before Antonio had found the resources to free him. Nicolo was Antonio’s vulnerable point. Antonio wouldn’t have wanted Nicolo to know. He’d have done anything to protect him.
Kafana: “Rudy, I think Grattelard must have been threatening Nicolo. Nicolo doesn’t know, and it would be cruel to tell him.”
Rudy: “You don’t resent Antonio?”
Kafana: “I wish Antonio had trusted us to help. With surprise on our side and Wellington planning things, Tomsk would have squashed Grattelard like a bug. But what’s done is done. I’m mainly annoyed that I now can’t risk using mind to mind contact to pass more songs onto Nicolo, in case he finds out from me. I learned a long time ago that we forgive people not for their benefit but for our own - hatred is a burden that weighs you down.”
Rudy: “What about Harmon the Vile? He’s been hated now for, what, nearly a thousand years? Aren’t there some acts so terrible that they ought never be forgiven?”
Kafana: “Never forgotten, absolutely. But you can forgive someone the hurt you take personally, forswear vengeance, while still advocating that justice be carried out upon them, for the good of society. Forgiveness doesn’t mean they can escape the penance needed to deter others from thinking they can copy the action with no cost. Forgiveness doesn’t mean not taking steps to protect potential future victims. It just means you take those steps without hatred. Hatred clouds the mind and blocks understanding.”
Rudy: “I’ve spoken to the wife of a debtor Grattelard was paid to deal with. He pinned her to the wall with daggers and forced her to watch while he skinned her husband alive before permanently killing him. A mind like that? I don’t want to understand it, I don’t want it justified because his parents were mean to him or something. I want to get angry about it. I think that’s a natural reaction.”
Kafana: “I’ve been in his mind. It was very strange. No fear or inhibitions, not much emotion at all except contempt. I’d say he was a natural psychopath except it almost appeared as though it had been deliberately shaped that way. The core of his mind was quite different to the clinical functional parts. I wonder if it is an effect of dedicating yourself to the worship of Bel?”
Rudy: “Why should I care?”
Kafana: “Know thy enemy. If becoming a Bel cultist has a predictable effect upon their minds, that may help us identify them. We might even be able to craft an item to detect them. I agree with you about anger. I’m rather too fond of that reaction myself. But anger doesn’t have to lead onto hatred, not if you’re careful. And understanding the contributing factors that led someone to behave the way they do, doesn’t lessen how important it is to deter others from copying their behaviour. We agree on aims, I think. We just slightly disagree on what the most effective tactics are to achieve those aims.”
Rudy shook his head: “You are being way too nice about being betrayed by Antonio. I’d be raging and cursing. Is that what it takes to become a Priestess?”
She thought about Bulgaria, and the confrontation she needed to have with him. She definitely didn’t feel calm about that prospect.
Kafana: “You do me too much credit. He was just fourteen years old. People that age make mistakes. He didn’t get the opportunity to learn from his. I’ll save my rage for the one who murdered him. Let it go. He didn’t harm you. Do you want to carry this feeling with you forever? I’m going to go whisper my last words to his coffin and make peace. I hope you’ll be able to do the same.”
Rudy: “I’ll think on it. By the way, Baba Olga says there’s a permanent blessing upon Nicolo, protecting him against one person in particular though she doesn’t know from whom. You might want to look into that.”
He waved to her and headed off in thought. She made her way over and knelt by the coffin. Nodding to Melafon she put one hand on the lid and learned near.
Kafana: “I know what you did, and I forgive you. Nicolo won’t find out from me. He is safe. Rest in peace.”
She took a spiky teasel head and dipped it. A prick drew a drop of blood from her finger, which ran down and mingled with the oil filling the hollow cups spaced around the head. She identified the salty cream scent that had been mixed with the oil - lily. Strange choice; also, she knew from her herb picking that the Romans had compared teasels to the lips of Venus, which would make their touch a kiss. What sort of kiss drew blood? She placed her teasel in the evergreen basket and went to join the back of the column that was forming up.