I nodded, subdued, repentant. “Yes.”
He loosened his hold, bringing my hands between us. “Long have I prayed for this, girl. The saint may even protect you as you accept this holy immersion.”
“You promise?” I asked, imbuing as much contrition into my voice as I could. I needed a bit more time, a bit less of his grip. “Assure me before I go in, Father.”
Torm was still slapping his hands at the lip of the river. Ilsit was cradling Evangeline’s head in her lap. Evangeline had slid to her side on the floor. Nearby, Reed and Gerard still battled.
“Assure me, Father,” I repeated, twitching my wrists slightly, testing.
The priest was benevolent, talking over me, excited by my penitence, his obsession reaching a summit. “Yes, child. Yes, pilgrim! You have accepted that you are a sinner, that you are sin itself. You will go into the river, bathed willingly by the tongue. The lord will hold you down. Your body will fight it, but your soul has received the tongue’s call. So you will not feel the fires of a sinner’s hell.”
I smiled at him. Then I said, “But you might,” and I slipped my wrists from his hold, pushing him back using all of my weight. I shoved him, my palms planted on his chest, my right hand’s pain an agony I had to dismiss.
He jerked back in shock. “You lie!”
His movement was a mistake. He should have tried to grab me again. He should not have brought himself even closer to the edge.
“I did,” I said and kicked him in the knee. As his body tipped back, his arms thrown out to stall his drop into the channel, fury on his face, I said, “Look to your right leg, Father.”
Before the priest’s body hit the spittle, he cast his eyes down and saw the flicker on his right trouser leg just above the oiled leather of his boot, the tiniest gleaming spark. His features went slack with fear.
The channel erupted in flames, making the entire chamber a radiant white.
I caught a glimpse of Torm Sheridan’s stricken face before he was consumed.
I scrambled over to Ilsit and Evangeline. “Get away from the edge!”
Ilsit and I managed to drag Evangeline away from it.
I looked up to see Reed stab wildly at Gerard while the captain was transfixed by the river’s explosion. The short sword only caught the captain dully in his chest, but it robbed him of his footing. And in three quick strides, each accompanied by a blow of those twin short swords, Reed had backed him into the flames.
The captain called out a weak objection, and then he fell.
“We have to go now,” Reed said to me and sheathed his short swords. “Get Evangeline up on her feet. Ilsit, do you still have the key?”
My friend withdrew it from her pocket. Reed snatched it from her and made for the door.
Between us, we hauled Evangeline to standing, but she was gasping.
“I’m not going to make it,” she said.
“Shut up,” pleaded Ilsit, draping one of the lady warrior’s arms over her shoulders and pulling her towards the door. “Jade and Robbie can fix you.”
Above us, I heard screaming as I took Evangeline’s other arm. “Oh my gods, have I put this whole place in danger?” I asked.
“No,” Evangeline gasped out, smiling. “Only Fear’s spit will burn. The fire will stay in the little channels. Remember the old tales? His bones won’t burn. Folk will just see all those founts and trickles on fire. When a thousand people make for the entrances, trying to leave? Fifty guards cannot hold them in.”
“Faster,” Reed called, wincing as he held the door open.
“Don’t look at the river,” Ilsit whined out. “Oh my gods, do not look.”
Foolishly, I did.
Thrashing amidst the conflagration, undulating, pulsing,angry, alive, was the tongue. It had lifted from the bottom of Fear’s jaw and was throbbing and twisting, a suffering worm. It was the largest piece of flesh I had ever seen, like an armless, headless dragon out of a bedtime story. I could almost hear a scream inside my head, as if the fate was in pain and consternation.
It was the most hideous sight I would ever behold.
94
