Peculiar Soul - Chapter 29: Love the Sinner

Chapter 29: Love the Sinner

Another symposium to review evidence from the Daressan front will be called to order next Rimesday. As with the last sessions, a primary focus will be given to directing and shaping Sever’s behavior in order to mitigate the more destructive tendencies of the bearer.

Subgroups will meet to discuss several other specific anomalies and entities observed in the region, including:

• Stellar, recently returned to prominence in the area due to her intervention in Leik’s harbor. Given the relative paucity of recent observational data, the breakout session will focus on a comparative analysis of her performance at Leik and her prior action against Sever’s forces in 680, with an aim to refine predictive modeling of her capability in future actions.
• Anomaly 3022, unknown occultor of particular skill. While typically confined to the Leiko hinterlands, in recent days the focus of its disruptions has moved toward the western front. Primary topics include potential tests to confirm or disprove the popular belief that this entity is Sobriquet, as well as general-purpose strategies to mitigate its impact on operations related to Sever. Recommendations will be forwarded to the ground teams currently in-theatre.
• Anomaly 4851, unknown auspex-identified locus. A recent entrant into continental affairs and mostly still unknown, but appears to be affiliated with 3022 judging by recent actions. The obfuscation by 3022 has meant that most prior analysis on 4851 is inferential, and as a result this session will primarily focus on establishing baseline characteristics – mainly to determine if 4851 is one person or several, to attempt to define which axis any involved souls reside upon, and to assess the probability that this entity represents a reinstantiation of Spark, Stanza or other notable untracked souls.

As always, submissions for topics of discussion will remain open until noon on the preceding day.

– Institute Circular #3419, 20 Bounty 693.

Michael leaned against the empty cot, shifting to find a position where the metal frame did not dig painfully into his back. After a few moments, he abandoned the effort and hunched forward.

“Stop shifting around,” Vernon muttered, opening an eye to glare at him. “It’s hard enough listening with all of your hearts thundering away – ah, wait a moment.” He closed his eyes again, tilting his head slightly to one side. “Mm, yes. They’re definitely talking about Clair now.”

A tense silence stretched out while Vernon listened. Finally, he opened his eyes and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I still don’t know where she’s being held, but they’re going to move her to a new location further from the front later today. Apparently there are some special interrogators from the mainland.”

“Did they say who?” Sobriquet asked, manifesting a short distance above Vernon. “Is it an Institute team, or military?”

“I would have mentioned it if they had,” Vernon retorted wearily. “I can barely hear them as it is. They called them an ‘anomaly team,’ whatever that means.”

Sobriquet’s form rippled slightly. “Institute, then,” it said. “Probably the same group that’s been sniffing after my trail. They’ll have an auspex at minimum, that will complicate our approach.”

“I should think so,” Michael frowned. “I assume you can shield us from their view, at least somewhat.”

“It’s more complex,” Sobriquet admitted. “Not impossible, though. Auspices can see a range of future possibilities, yes, but they are not omniscient. The hazard is that the extra dimension of their sight renders them uniquely able to notice when I obfuscate the present, since the obstructed web of events forms a sort of arrow pointing back to my current focus.”

“So they’ll know we’re coming.” Charles shrugged. “They had to figure on that anyway. We’ll-”

“Hsst,” Vernon interjected, waving his hand at them. “They’re talking again.” He paused, and the others waited until he opened his eyes once more. “The transfer will be to an outpost north-east of camp,” he said. “Just before sundown. It sounds like the team they’re meeting is small, mostly specialists.”

Vernon hesitated, then looked at Sobriquet. “They also mentioned getting Clair to an anatomens.”

A shivering discontinuity swept over the apparition, bursting outward to distort the interior of the tent. “Did you hear anything about her condition?” Sobriquet asked.

“Nothing specific,” Vernon replied. “Just that one of them seemed to think it was important she see the anatomens today. They’re at the outpost – ah, no. The team they’re meeting has an anatomens attached to it.”

“Odd choice,” Charles said. “I’ve never heard of the Ardans sending their Fixes into the field like that. Normally they’re wrapped up tight so that nobody takes a poke at them.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sobriquet said. “We’ll intercept them on their way to the meet.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Won’t they be expecting that?” he asked. “They have to know we’ll come after her.”

The apparition paused, its gaze seeming to sharpen on Michael. After an uncomfortable moment, it nodded.

“They’ll be expecting something, but I don’t think they know quite what they’re up against.” Sobriquet’s voice was level, but carried a discordant note that Michael found unsettling. “We’ve heard what we need to hear. Let’s get into position. However many men they send to guard her, it won’t be enough.”

Michael stretched his sight upward, looking at the lone figure walking down the road. Friedrich was carrying an unconscious Clair over one shoulder, her arms and head dangling down against his back while her heavily-bandaged legs dripped blood onto his shirt. A bruise sat fresh and purple on his cheekbone, and his face was set in grim focus.

A low, rumbling hiss came from Sobriquet at the sight. One of Clair’s legs was tied off tightly with wrapped linen, a length of broken bone protruding from her shin. The other had blood already seeping through its bandages. Clair’s face was pale, the glistening sweat plain on her brow even from a distance.

Their small group watched Friedrich approach in silence until Michael pulled his sight back and slouched against the rock. “We can’t do it,” he said. “Not like this. She’s right up against him.”

The indistinct blur of Sobriquet’s hand flexed, but it did not speak – no doubt, Michael thought, thinking of the wild outpouring of destruction that had occurred at the shed. At such a close distance, and injured as she already was, Clair would not survive a rescue attempt that relied on incapacitating Friedrich.

“They planned this out well,” Charles muttered, looking through a small monocular. “We can’t stop him from killing her if we attack. And looking at her legs-” He turned to Sobriquet. “We may want to consider letting Sever take her to the anatomens. I’m not sure she’d survive even if we managed to rescue her.”

Vernon shook his head. “We don’t know what kind of forces they have at this outpost,” he objected. “Emil didn’t have current numbers, so it could be anywhere from deserted to overflowing. If we let her in there, there’s no guarantee we can get her back out again.”

He hesitated, then looked at Sobriquet. “And if we can’t get her out, then we shouldn’t let her go in.”

Sobriquet stilled. “That is not an option,” it said. “If you’re worried about the secrets she knows, I am uniquely qualified to mitigate that particular hazard.”

“I won’t try to tell you what to do,” Vernon said. “I won’t be the one doing any of it. It just – it had to be said.”

“You don’t need to justify yourself,” Sobriquet replied. “You’re not wrong, and I’m not so unreasonable that I’ll punish you for pointing out my flaws.” It blurred, then floated upwards to look out towards the road. “Power is the license to be flawed. In this case I will indulge myself – and in the three of you I will place a certain measure of trust.”

It turned its blurry head towards Vernon, then Charles, then Michael. The sensation of its gaze was a nearly-physical thing, uncomfortable and oppressive. “I usually have contingencies,” it said. “For everyone except Clair. Quite a few for you, Michael, although I’m now doubting if they would have been enough.”

Michael caught the bitter amusement in its voice and inclined his head. “I’m glad we never had to find out,” he said.

“Never say never. But for today, there are only the four of us, and – I need to set aside the games. So I’m going to trust the three of you, and act unreservedly. Whatever results from that, I will remember forever.”

Each man nodded. Michael saw in the others’ faces that they had taken much the same meaning as he had from Sobriquet’s words – the promise, and the threat.

“Then we’re letting Sever go?” Charles asked.

Sobriquet nodded. “She needs the anatomens, and there’s the chance that Sever will return rather than lingering to foul up our plans. Whatever forces they have at the outpost, they are preferable to facing him again.”

“And if he stays?” Vernon asked.

Sobriquet leaned forward. “Then he can die too.”

None of the others seemed able to muster a response to the statement; they trailed Friedrich at a distance as he made his way north along the road. For a while Sobriquet maintained the silence, but as the outskirts of the city turned once again into fields it began to direct them in their movements – telling them to walk closer together, to avoid soft or muddy portions of the road.

“The auspex?” Michael guessed.

Sobriquet grunted. “Unexpectedly potent,” it said. “Perhaps a group working in concert. It is proving challenging-” It fuzzed into indistinct smudges, then rematerialized slightly offset from where it had been. “Very challenging. Hiding you is a problem. You have a certain weight to you, which makes it difficult to conceal your presence subtly.”

There was another grunt of effort from Sobriquet, sending its form shivering into a new position. “Ironically, that brute in front of us is the only reason we haven’t been spotted yet. He casts a large shadow, as such things go, and we have been able to obscure ourselves in the chaos of his passing.”

Michael nodded. “Sorry if I’m making this more difficult,” he said.

A light, surprised laugh broke loose from Sobriquet, cut short as it strained once more against forces that Michael could not perceive. “It is as difficult as it needs to be,” it said. “I’d say that I was glad you decided to come, but it was never really a decision for you – was it? You never considered staying with Emil, as your friend did.”

“I suppose I didn’t,” Michael said. He scratched at his neck where the woolen collar had irritated his skin, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “It seemed like the thing to do.”

“The thing to do,” Sobriquet repeated, amusement evident in its voice. “Is it immoral of me to take advantage of a man who has lost use of his faculties, do you think?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Since when has that been a driving concern for you?” he asked. “I seem to recall a speech about how holding to ideals was a luxury…”

“You’re insane, so your memory is likely flawed.” Sobriquet blurred, raising a hand as if shielding its notional eyes from a distant sun. “Regardless, know that I – well. I do appreciate you helping me to save my sister, whatever your motives.”

“You’re welcome,” Michael said, withholding a grin. “As one insane man to another.”

Sobriquet laughed perhaps a bit harder than the quip warranted, then lapsed into an amused silence. After they had walked a bit further, however, tension became evident in the lines of its form. What few instructions Sobriquet gave were terse and quiet, the strain of hiding them seeming to occupy all of its focus.

The stress spilled over into the rest of the group, until Michael felt that even he could perceive the crushing burden Sobriquet was somehow diverting away from them, pressing down like the depths of the ocean. It was a relief to turn a bend and see the outpost, hostile as it was.

It looked like it had been a farmstead at one point in time, long before the war. The large house in the center of the estate was appropriately humble, and the outbuildings at one point might have been a barn and silos. Now they were patched over and reformed, their wood artificed into smooth, bland stretches and covered over in large part by similarly-artificed stone. Squat barracks and sheds in the same style disrupted what might have been an orchard at one point – Michael felt a pang when he saw it, thinking of Jeorg’s sanctuary.

Friedrich stopped at the gate and raised his free hand, hailing the guard. There was a shouted exchange that only Vernon heard, followed by a flurry of activity from behind the fortifications. When the gate slid open, however, it was not a soldier that stepped through. It was a woman, slight and pale with blonde hair and long, white gloves that came to her elbow.

Michael’s heart pounded in his chest as she walked up to Friedrich with disdain oozing from every facet of her posture, exchanging a few short words.

Vernon frowned. “Well, she doesn’t like him,” he said. “Not sure who she’s supposed to be, but she’s acting like she’s in charge-”

“That’s Isolde Altenbach,” Michael said hoarsely. “She’s the anatomens. If she’s here-”

“Oh, wonderful,” Sobriquet said, interest threading through its voice despite the strain. “I was worried I was losing my touch, with how much trouble this auspex has been giving me – but it’s not an auspex at all, is it?” It floated higher, its face locked on the compound. “Hello, Sibyl.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Charles. “She’s here?” he asked. “The others-”

“She’s only here for me,” Sobriquet said. “It makes sense; I’ve been feeling some rather intense snooping for days now. I thought the Ardans might have brought in a whole team of auspices to try and pinpoint my location.”

“Can she?” Michael asked.

Sobriquet hummed. “Potentially. If I’m particularly sloppy, or she’s particularly lucky. Of course, it’s a moot point when we’re right on top of her. Once Sever leaves she’ll certainly notice the blank spot just outside her walls, assuming she hasn’t already.”

“So much for the element of surprise,” Charles said.

“You wound me.” Sobriquet cocked its head to the side. “She’ll notice a blind spot, yes – but it’ll be the one I want her to notice.” It paused as Friedrich knelt to lower Clair to the ground, and Isolde drew off one of her gloves. For a tense moment Sobriquet watched the anatomens – then relaxed, as Isolde withdrew her hand. Clair was still soaked in blood, but her leg appeared whole once more.

There was a palpable sense of relief from Sobriquet, although its focus remained intently on the compound. “That gives us some time,” it said. “I can create something of a diversion. They don’t truly care about Clair, the only reason they’re holding her is because they suspect she could lead them to me. If they think they know where I am, that’s where Sibyl’s eyes will be.”

Michael nodded, still watching Isolde as she directed some soldiers to move Clair’s limp form into the compound. Friedrich followed them in, and finally the iron gate swung shut once more. Sobriquet looked up at the squealing noise and nodded.

“Now we wait,” it said. “I’ve begun to hide a small, moving patch of territory along a northern road, as if I’m fleeing. I’m being quite rude about it, too, so she can definitely see what I’m doing.”

“Won’t she suspect a ruse?” Michael asked. “The timing is too perfect.”

Charles snorted, shaking his head. “The Ardans won’t stop to ask questions if we act like the rats they think us to be. For a Daressan to abandon his comrades and flee from overwhelming Ardan force – well, it’s only right and natural, isn’t it?” He gave Michael an unfriendly smile. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, milord, but your countrymen have a low opinion of mine.”

Michael left the bait dangling where Charles had placed it and leaned back against a tree, watching soldiers mill about within the compound. It was several minutes before Vernon straightened up, tilting his head to the side.

“Horses,” he said. “Sounds like they’re preparing to set out. I count at least two being saddled. Two men talking – I can’t make out what they’re saying.” He paused, listening. “I think one is Sever.”

“Definitely,” Michael said, his sight stretched as high as it would go. Friedrich was adjusting a large horse’s saddle just outside of the compound’s stables. His head lifted, turned to the side – just as Vincent and Sofia emerged leading their own horses.

Michael felt an odd rush of emotion at seeing the two of them again. His feelings on their intervention into his life had gained complexity in hindsight, certainly, but Vincent had fought off Michael’s father and spent the next days traveling rough across the countryside for him.

As for Sofia, she had been the catalyst for him meeting Jeorg. For all that the partisans viewed her as a shadowy threat, Michael had seen her mind. He could believe her to be misguided, but never malicious. She looked around for a moment before jumping onto her horse with practiced ease.

Sever mounted his own horse, looking impatiently back at Vincent; Isolde had emerged from within, and the two were whispering over something together. They exchanged a brief kiss before Vincent hopped lightly up onto the horse, grinning at an unimpressed Friedrich before leading the group to the gate.

“So we’ve got Sever,” Charles muttered, looking through his monocular as they emerged onto the road. “Then – a man and a woman. I don’t recognize either.”

“Vincent Waldeck,” Michael said. “He’s an Ember, a rather good one. The woman is Sofia Altenbach.” He paused, looking at Sobriquet. He had no particular wish to betray Sofia’s secret, especially not to her enemies. Lying to Sobriquet on matters of importance was a losing proposition, however, and if it was discovered that Michael had withheld crucial information with Clair’s safety at stake…

“Sofia is Sibyl,” Michael said quietly. “It’s not widely known, she lets another act as her face in most matters.”

Sobriquet hummed. “And yet, you know.”

“I’ve met Sofia and her friends,” Michael said. “They saved me. From my father, from a fate worse than death.”

“And here you are, going up against them,” Charles said, leaning back. “Are we going to have a problem, when we go to get Clair?”

“I’d rather not go up against them,” Michael admitted. “They were good to me when few others were.” He ignored Charles’s disgusted snort and turned to face Sobriquet. “But I don’t think there’s a need for conflict here. Vincent and Sofia were the only ones who would have fought to keep Clair, and they’re leaving.”

“So you’re telling me that if I have the chance to eliminate Sibyl’s trusted aides, I should pass it up?” Charles asked. “You know, Sibyl. The enemy’s primary intelligence asset. Ghar’s bones, we should be talking about killing all of them.”

“No!” Michael and Sobriquet said, each turning to look at the other in mild surprise.

“No,” Sobriquet repeated. “Aside from Clair being our primary purpose here, you are not to even think about attacking Sibyl directly. I mean that literally, by the way, it’s a very real possibility that such thoughts could manifest in a way she’d be able to perceive.” It looked at Michael. “I’m curious what you meant to say, though.”

Michael coughed. “Just that right now Sibyl is here because someone asked her to be,” he said. “She doesn’t care about you. Her primary motivation in finding you is likely that it would allow her to return home. But if you harm one of her friends, that will change. She is capable of – intense focus.” Michael swallowed against a sudden dryness in his mouth, remembering the sensation of her soul spreading over him, the eyes scouring over every atom of his being. “I would advise that you avoid making a personal enemy of her.”

“Noted,” Sobriquet said. “Charles, if he’s right then hurting them will jeopardize our escape with Clair. I will not thank you for that, if it occurs.”

Charles pressed his lips into a line, but nodded tersely back at Sobriquet. The conversation died once more as they watched the three riders disappear into the brush.

Michael tried not to think about the possibility of hurting Isolde or Vera. Both women had been kind to him, if not necessarily considerate, and Jeorg had been fond of them.

“I won’t apologize for Charles,” Sobriquet said. Its voice was pitched normally, but neither of the other men reacted – Michael assumed its words were meant only for him. He turned to look sidelong at the apparition.

“I understand. Sibyl was good enough to me, but I won’t pretend she would be your ally. I’d rather that the two of you never had to meet.” Michael sighed and looked back toward the compound. “I used to wonder if I would ever see them again, and to have it happen here – it’s not how I had hoped to repay them.”

He forced his eyes to settle on the blurred figure. “I know it’s not something I should ask, but I would appreciate it if you would not unnecessarily spread the truth of her identity. It would – hurt her, for no real benefit to you.”

“I must admit that it gives me no small amount of joy to know her face while she does not know mine,” Sobriquet said. “I’ve actually wondered what it would be like to speak with her. With my opposite, you know. Sobriquet and Sibyl, the mockingbird and the raven.” It made a sardonically grand gesture. “There’s a certain drama to the concept.”

Michael smiled. “She’s not very talkative,” he said. “Your opposite in more ways than one, it would seem.” He let the smile drop from his face. “Yet I think you might have found a way to get along, were you not set in opposition by larger forces. It’s a shame.”

“You shouldn’t speak of such things like they’re immutable,” Sobriquet replied, bobbing closer. “You and I, we were also set apart by larger forces. Yet here you are, helping to correct your father’s injustice while she continues to do the work Ardalt demands of her.” It made a buzzing noise of disgust. “Here out in isolation so she doesn’t have to look so closely at what her countrymen do to mine. No – no, I don’t think we would have become friends.”

It turned toward the compound. “Come on, it’s been long enough. Let’s go get my sister.”

Their entry to the compound was simple; unlike Sever’s fortifications the fence-line was mostly metal here, and therefore all too easy for Charles to bypass. Michael watched flakes of rust and lichen drop off the bending metal as the artifex created a gap in the wrought iron, then slipped through to stand on the other side.

He felt unaccountably anxious as they drew closer to where Isolde had disappeared before. Vernon raised his head and frowned, turning to the side. “She’s awake,” he said. “Seems to be okay. Exchanging pleasantries with another woman.”

“Good,” Sobriquet said, relief evident even through the distortion in its voice. “Point the way.”

Vernon did so, shuffling along down one of the camp’s narrow lanes. “She’s awfully talkative,” he muttered. “The woman asked if she’s a member of the partisans and she said yes.”

“Kind of pointless to deny it,” Charles grunted. “She got caught infiltrating Sever’s camp.”

“They’re asking about the occultor that she’s been working with,” Vernon said slowly. “She – no. She just confirmed that you’re Sobriquet.”

“What?” Sobriquet snapped. “Is she in pain? Drugged?”

Vernon shook his head. “No, they sound like they’re being very nice to her,” he said. “The anatomens is treating her like a friend.”

The color drained from Michael’s face as a sickening realization hit him. “She’s not talking to the anatomens,” he whispered.

“No?” Vernon asked.

Michael began to run, provoking a startled shout from Charles behind him. He let his sight flit between the rooms he passed, holding his hand against the stone wall to stabilize himself. Storage, quarters, quarters, an office, an empty room – and then there was Clair, sitting unbound in a chair and smiling up at Vera.

He ran around the side to the door and rushed in, feeling Sobriquet’s cloak fracture around him as he impacted the door. Isolde’s head snapped up, as did Vera’s. Clair smiled and waved at him.

“Oh, look – Vera!” she said. “This is my other Ardan friend-”

“Michael?” Vera said shakily. Isolde had gone pale, her gloved hands trembling.

“Oh good,” Clair said happily. “You’ve already met.”