“I’m not eager for war,” Finn corrected. “But I’m far less eager for what will happen if we pretend war isn’t coming. Caldien has been the largest holdout against the Empire for decades. You think Jax will go easy on us, now that he literally has the most powerful god on his side?”
Beneath the patch, Gabe’s empty eye socket itched.
Finn drained the rest of his beer. When the barmaid gave him a questioning look, asking without words if he wanted another, he waved her off. “You’ll get your war, one way or another,” Finn said as he stood to leave. “Make sure it counts.” He rapped his knuckles on the table, then he was gone.
Gabe stared at the scratched tavern table. Deftly, cautiously, he let himself slip. Let the world go black and white, the same way he’d seen it back when he could only channel Mortem, when his grasp of power was so very weak. The difference now was subtle, a weaving of flame-colored threads among the monotone.
He tugged at those orange-red threads.
The beer left in his glass churned into a boil.
With a screech of his chair across the floor, Gabe threw a handful of coins on the table and stalked outside.
When it was time for the meeting, Gabe met Malcolm by the boardinghouse. The gas streetlights came on as they made their way to the Rotunda, sparked to glow by young lamplighters who scurried up and down the poles in the fine mist of evening. The Rotunda was brightly lit, its columns casting shadows over the perpetually damp cobblestones.
“Have you thought about what trick you’re going to perform?” Malcolm asked as they walked down the wet street. Sarcasm, but with an angry edge. “I imagine they won’t let me off easy this time. Figured I’d grow a rose or some shit.”
“I assume set something on fire.” Gabe tugged up his hood. “Maybe Eoin, if he annoys me enough.”
Malcolm snorted.
The guard at the door perked up when they approached. “Your… esteemed guests,” he said, stumbling over proper honorifics. “Come with me.”
Gabe stopped, his hand subconsciously stretching for the knife in his belt. “Where are we going?”
“The meeting tonight is elsewhere.” The Brother dipped his head deferentially. “If you’ll allow me to lead you there.”
Malcolm looked at him, mouth grim.
Wearily, Gabe nodded, gesturing for the Brother to lead the way.
It was a long walk. The Brother led them through the back alleys of the city until they reached the outskirts, buildings tapering off, forests taking their place. It’d been an unusually dry stretch of days for Caldien, the mist never quite turning to rain, and the scent of the coniferous trees was heavy in the air.
A knot of black-cloaked figures waited at the edge of the woods. One figure broke away, pulling down his hood. Eoin, smiling widely. “The men of the hour.”
“I don’t like this,” Malcolm muttered under his breath.
Neither did Gabe.
Eoin approached, clapping Gabe on the shoulder, then Malcolm in turn. Malcolm stood stiff as he did, body rebounding from the contact. “Delighted you could join us.”
“A bargain is a bargain,” Gabe said through his teeth.
Malcolm frowned. “Why are we here?”
“It seems we should use this opportunity to do something useful.” Eoin gestured to the forest beside them. “This particular tract of land—one of my own, in the spirit of honesty—needs to be cleared for farming. The weather has not been cooperative. So you”—he pointed to Gabe—“are going to burn it down. And you”—now pointing to Malcolm—“are going to revitalize it.”
They looked at each other, apprehension twinned. The first large-scale use of their power, and of course it had to be something that could go horribly wrong.
Heat built in Gabe’s hands. Heat, and a horrible eagerness.
“I’m not sure if this is a good idea,” Gabe hedged. “We have no practice…”
“Godhood doesn’t need practice.” Eoin’s eyes glinted.
There was nothing else for it. With another guarded look at Malcolm, Gabe stepped forward, closer to the trees.
The Brotherhood hung back, making a half circle around them. It made Gabe feel like a caged animal. He fought not to bare his teeth as he raised his hands.
