The tall man grimaced. “Always a jester.”
I noticed the other men had lowered their swords and were watching the three men at the front, the leader and the two arguing. My arms began to ache but I held them, a flimsy shield.
The leader sheathed his sword, his face blank. When he spoke, it was with a measurement of patience. And it was without feeling. “Perch. Thatcher. This is entirely unfitting behavior of a Tintarian soldier. And it is twice as unfitting as we are not soldiers, we are procurers. Most ranking officers would have you whipped. In a word, this is insubordination.”
There was a stillness after he spoke. His men watched him carefully.
“Apologies,captain,” said the bald man.
The tall man nodded, but his face looked troubled.
I sensed an opportunity and I took it. “Your soldier is right,” I said, as calmly as I could manage. I directed my words to this captain. “There is a reason Eccleston has never been in a war. And it’s because of Agnes. Her blessings have covered us.”
The man looked at me. “Priestess,” he said as if the word rang false to him, as if somehow heknew. “The reason Eccleston has never been in a war is because your fair city has honored all agreements and all treaties up until this past winter. Tintar abides by agreements. All of our agreements. And within the language of every agreement, we reserve the right to restrained invasion if they are broken. Eccleston has broken with us. And so we invade. Only governing bodies, of course, as they were the ones to break the agreement. And this—” he gestured to the white stone walls around us, “is paid for by your citizens’ taxes. And is thus… a governing body.”
My gaze went to the tallest man. Both he and the bald man, surprisingly, seemed swayed by my words. They were a religious people, I told myself. The faces on some of the other soldiers held the same concern.
“Take us as captives,” I said. I heard intakes of breath behind me. “If you cannot leave us be, take us as captives and there will be no curse.”
The captain’s eyelids remained where they were but his brows rose. I noticed then they were defined and well-shaped. “Captives,” he said, almost to himself.
Behind him, his men held still, swords out but lowered.
Through the shattered doors, people rushed by on foot and on horse. The volume of the fighting and screaming was louder than it had been and yet, inside this odd impasse, in this chapel, it seemed far away.
“Yes,” I rushed on. “Captives. You can hold us hostage. Use us to barter with Eccleston for a fresh trade agreement. Eccleston holds Agnes clerics in high regard. We are valuable. I’m sure the council has learned its lesson with your invasion, but we could be useful in the recreation of such agreements. And you would not be cursed by the spirit of Agnes. In fact, she may see our captivity as a kindness.”
He looked at me closely then, as if noticing I was a woman and not just a terrified person in white. A flicker of something passed through his eyes as they flitted over me. Then, as if dismissing me, he turned and faced his soldiers. They stood at attention.
“I will allow for a vote,” he said. “Cut them down?” he asked, raising his own hand.
Six men lifted their hands.
He let his hand fall. “Well. Captives it is.”
There was a crush of released breaths behind me.
“See if the office has a window,” he ordered the tall man named Perch.
Perch stepped past us to look. “Nothing.”
“Good,” said the captain. Turning to us, he said, “You will go into the priest’s quarters and stay there. Two of my men will guard you. Do not try to leave. If you do, you will be cut down. Two more men will be outside guarding this chapel. We will collect you at some point this evening.” He looked to some of the men, a slight nod of his head all he needed to do and two approached us.
We scurried into the priest’s office before they could reach us. As we moved away, I watched him turn to Perch and the bald man.
“Let us continue,” he said. “Without any curses.” Then he strode past the rest of his company and out through the doorless archway.
“You’ve gone and done it now,” the man with the shaved head said to Perch.
“Go and fuck yourself,” said Perch.
They hurried after him with their fellow soldiers.
The two guarding us were younger than the three men who had been speaking, perhaps each in their mid-twenties. They positioned themselves outside the office door and faced the pews.
Quinn reached to close the door and one barked “open.” She pulled her hand away.
We huddled around the priest’s desk, breathless, listening to the mayhem in the street.
