He nodded, and she hated that all she could see was the dark shadow of his being. She would’ve given anything to see his face,to see his blue eyes and how they were fixed on her. She could only imagine him looking at her in earnest. She tucked these thoughts away and pulled him after her, only letting go of his sleeve when she was certain he was following her. From that point on, she made sure to check that he was behind. She walked slowly to give him time to navigate.
“The first tailor’s shop we saw will have everything we need,” she said. “There might be people now, but the streets will be empty tonight. The cutler isn’t far from there.”
“All right,” he said.
She frowned. He’d do anything she said, wouldn’t he? The thought unsettled her. She might be wrong sometimes, might make mistakes, and it wasn’t healthy for him to follow her blindly like this. Again, she had to push these thoughts to the back of her mind, save them for later.
“Now that we have our targets picked, we should see about food,” she continued.
Before Rune could answer, the crowd around them surged forward. Seraphina stumbled, her stick nearly slipping from her grip as bodies pressed against her from all sides. She reached for Rune’s sleeve, his arm, anything, but her fingers closed on empty air. The crowd pulled her along, and she was so slight that she couldn’t resist the current of people. Then a strong hand wrapped around her wrist and held tight. She exhaled and let herself be guided, trusting Rune to keep them together. It was his turn to lead, simply because he was taller and more tangible, as opposed to her, who hadn’t seemed to have grown too much past the age of fifteen.
The crowd stopped after a while, and Seraphina caught her breath. A church bell rang, and then more bells answered from all over the city. People gasped, and she heard murmurs of awe rippling through the masses.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Rune said. “We’ve stopped in front of a church. The doors are opening.”
She could smell incense and beeswax, the mustiness of old stone and wood. A procession was emerging, footsteps echoing, and she sensed the shadows of many figures moving in formation. The priest was at the front.
Seraphina made sure her hood covered her face and leaned toward a woman standing in front of her. The woman was tiny, barely reaching Seraphina’s shoulder. It made her feel better to know she wasn’t the only midget around here.
“Excuse me,” Seraphina whispered. “What day is it?”
The woman huffed, and when she spoke, her voice was tinged with disbelief.
“It’s October 31st. Did you just emerge from under a rock?”
Another huff, and she took a step away from Seraphina, signaling she didn’t want to be disturbed again.
Seraphina shook her head, feeling dumb. All Hallows’ Eve. That explained the crowds. If she thought about it, the past few days had been busier than normal, more beggars on the streets, and more people to throw coins their way. She’d profited plenty. Had it been another time of the year, she wouldn’t have been able to feed herself with her singing. Tomorrow was All Saints’ Day, but today was the true celebration.
Every church in Ingolstadt brought out their most prized relics, moving in procession through the city, all stopping at the Church of Our Lady. This began early in the day, so the people of Ingolstadt, as well as those from outside the city, would have time to approach the glass displays, see the relics for themselves, and pray if they were so inclined.
Later in the day, at vespers, a procession from Krähenstein Academy would descend the hill, carrying one greater relic the Sarumite Order chose to display this year. Every year, it was a different sacred bone, and the headmaster himself came downfrom his tower, surrounded by his weavers and curators, and a throng of students, and would hold a speech in front of the Church of Our Lady.
Seraphina had been so absorbed by the chaos of her own life that she’d lost track of time, didn’t pay attention to the passing of days, not caring if it was Monday or Saturday, only knowing it was the month of October.
The priest raised his arms, and the crowd settled down. When he started talking, they hung onto his every word. His droning voice named the saints whose relics had been brought out of the church’s vault and started recounting their tales. Seraphina turned away, not wanting to be here anymore, a sweaty body in a mesmerized crowd. Two years ago, she’d been up there, on the church’s steps, at Matteo’s side. The Sarumites from Krähenstein hadn’t descended yet, it was still hours away from vespers, but she wanted to make sure when Headmaster Wolff appeared with his cohort of erudites and disciples, she would be far away. It would be too much for her. It would crush her to stand here, across from her fellow Sarumites, like she was no one, just a gaping mouth in a flock of sheep.
“The table where the relics are displayed in glass boxes,” Rune said suddenly, excitement in his voice. “There’s a lattice pinned to the tablecloth.”
“For protection,” Seraphina said. “There are lattices everywhere today, if you look closely.” Not something she could do anymore.
Rune’s grip was firm on her wrist, worried about losing her. She felt him stretch himself to see over people’s heads. Though she wanted to leave, she waited, allowing him to take in the scene. It seemed like this was his first All Hollows’ Eve celebration, though they were held in all cities, big and small, and even in villages, as long as there was a church that held relics under its roof.
The table in front of the Church of Our Lady was long enough to fit all displays coming from the other churches, and in the middle, she knew there was generous space left for the academy relic. Pinned to the tablecloth was a Liminal Tape, a lattice creating a circuit around the display area, with bone fragments visible as pale dots every few inches along the tape. It used a cross-stitch pattern, common for boundary work, when the purpose was for the lattice to create an aversive field. People would step closer, but every time they reached to touch what was on the table, they would feel repelled, filled with a sense of “wrong”, and “don’t touch that, or else”. Similar to the instinct that kicked in when one’s fingers hovered close to a hot stove.
The priests wore Liminal Tapes pinned to their vestments as well. The parishioners could get handsy on a day like this, eager to receive their blessings.
Watchmen stood guard in high numbers, alert, eyeing the crowds, patrolling at the edges. If anyone made a suspicious move, they would be on top of them in seconds. Not that any evildoer was as insane as to try and steal relics during a procession like this, when warding lattices dripped from every surface around the relic displays, guards wore Wards of Rebound under their uniforms, and the priests themselves most likely wore a small relic in a piece of jewelry in case of an attempted attack.
“That woman,” Rune said, breathless, pointing to their right. “She’s wearing a Charm Veil.”
Seraphina tugged his arm down.
“Don’t point,” she said.
“That’s a class C civilian lattice, but still... To wear it in such an obvious manner?”
