Paladins of the Pickle Goddess

There was a pillar of smoke rising up from the Spire. I peered out the window, holding my cloak up to my face and trying not to cough.

Duran was crammed in the seat across from me, pressing his face up against the side of the coach. Apis was half-asleep on my shoulder. I poked him awake.

“Did Prisca mention anything about a fire to you?”

I had thought Amatus (unwise, but directionless) and Prisca (full of direction, but seemingly thoughtful) would do well enough left on their own this morning. I had other concerns on my mind.

Now we drew close and could hear all of the chaos, I found myself reconsidering. The coach pulled to a stop, horses whinnying. The coachmen swung down and pulled the door open. “Miss Ferrers,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck, “They’ve closed the street. I could try and take an alley, but…”

We both looked at the coach. It was my mother’s style exactly. Elaborate. Perfectly designed. Top of the line.

Too wide to fit in an alley.

I gave him my best false smile. Made sure to show all of my teeth. “We can walk from here.”

“What?”

“Duran, keep up,” I said. I snapped my fingers, making sure he followed me out.

The smoke swallowed us up as we stepped out. The wind currents of the Capital were a weather phenomenon much observed and never understood. Now they made it so I had to pull fabric up over my mouth and try not to keel over. Behind me, Duran was coughing. I could hardly tell where road ended and building began.

“Everyone form a line,” I said. I grabbed onto Duran. “Don’t you dare go off on your own again.”

I let my eyes drift to his sword again for a moment. An abyssal blade.

Could Andrena really have been telling the truth?

If so, had he… no. He couldn’t have hit someone with it, could he? I would have noticed.

I shuddered and looked towards the street. Surely it would be fine.

Behind my firm grasp on Duran’s tunic, Apis was gripping his other arm. We made a strange chain as I wound through the street.

The crowds were thick here. As many guards as there were citizens, looming up out of the smoke with blades already out. I gave them my best scowl, spoon out. Most stepped back with alarm.

One held out a hand to stop me. “Road’s closed.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“You’re on it.”

“Must not be closed then.”

“You- I just told you-”

While he argued with himself, I shoved past. I saw him try to swipe at Apis, but Apis ducked, leaving the blade to swipe through a trail of smoke.

“What’s the plan?” Apis called, from behind Duran.

“Don’t have one!”

Whoever was in charge of this mess, they were inside of the Spire. That was all I knew. We had to get through this mess and up.

I could see people clustering into little groups. A set of priests, wearing beetle masks and fighting off what looked like a set of guards with bags of incense. A man using three swords in a juggling motion. He wasn’t fighting against anyone, as far as I could see. It looked more like a hobby.

Someone was breaking the window of a nearby business as we walked by. He held up a jug of wine like he was offering it to me.

“Not today, thanks,” said Apis.

“Your loss!”

“Miss Elysia,” said Duran, who had to half-run to keep up with my quick steps, “Can I use the sword now?”

“Absolutely not.” If that was an Abyssal blade, even a small cut could make someone’s soul escape their body entirely. Put it in the hands of the gods.

Although, given that I technically didn’t have a soul… was that really so bad?

“Be ready to use it,” I said. “But don’t swing it around. I’ve seen your technique.”

“Don’t mind us!” called Apis. “Just on a walk! Not affiliated with anyone! Wanted to tour the neighborhood!”

“You’ve got to take a side!” The man trying to attack him was using a net in one hand and what looked like a harpoon in the other. I yanked Duran forward, forcing Apis to stumble at the end of the chain and duck below the sharp edge.

“What really matters is patience and kindness!”

“Patience and kindness can kiss my-”

A guard hit the net-man over the head with a long piece of plank. I broke into a run.

We only had half of a block left. I did my best to look like I was doing something important.

As far as I could tell, the crowd had broken into roughly three segments. The third that cared about the law, guardsmen and some guild-affiliates. Those that thought the law could toss it- the laundresses and most of the priests. In between, and the largest group, were the people who viewed this as entertainment for the night. They were breaking windows, throwing firebombs, flinging swords, for one purpose only- pure joy.

Yes. The capital hadn’t changed at all.

“Miss Elysia,” said Duran. “Shouldn’t we leave?”

“Don’t worry! They’ll get tired soon enough!” Apis was losing stamina, at the end of our line. “Once they bring out the buckets!”

He was right. Where was the fire brigade? It took a dedicated rioter to continue after being doused by harbor water. It wasn’t the cold- it was actually pleasantly lukewarm most of the year. It was simply… everything else. You couldn’t continue rioting. You had to go home and do everything possible to get it off before you suffered long-term damage.

A woman came forward, her laundress shirt stained with something dark. “Death to grime!”

I pushed her out of the way and tried not to watch as she slipped and fell. The shape of the Spire was visible again through the smoke, now. Just a little bit more. The chanting crowd was visible again.

I had to give some credit to Prisca. Who else could have maintained this level of anger about Voice Marcia’s death? Even now, I could make out some of the chants. Begging for justice. For honesty. For a fair trial.

I stopped running as we came up into the crowd. Half of them weren’t even chanting, just milling around and staring up at the smoke. The source was visible, now. They had set the festival grounds on fire. All of those temporary stalls- brought in with cheap, dry wood, created for a few brief days- they had gone up one by one.

I stood still and watched for a moment. They were across the road, but I could still see the flames. Too close for comfort. Why were all of these people still so close? Were they mad?

How could they have fallen so low? I had thought they’d set a building on fire. Maybe city hall. Something understandable. But the festival? Those were businesses. Members of the community just trying to get by.

I couldn’t help but think of that massive bobbin of lace. Slowly forming. It would never be finished now.

Behind me, Apis came around to stand next to me, hand still gripping Duran’s collar.

“…I’m sure they got out,” I said.

“Let’s get to the Spire. No point in checking.”

His hand was shaking. I could have asked if he was feeling well. If he needed help.

I hadn’t ever done feelings very well. I nodded and turned to push through the crowd. They parted easily in front of me. Many of them were turned to stare at the festival. Muttering about how quickly it was spreading- asking about the fire brigade. I was sure they were in there, somewhere, trying to push the spread back.

Another laundress was in front of me; I pushed him aside, only for his eyes to widen. “Elysia?”

Oh. Him. I recognized his little glasses. “…Egnatius.” I looked over my shoulder. “I didn’t think this was your type of event.”

“I was required by the guild,” he said. He dropped his voice. “We have completely fallen apart. Is there any way you could ask Herself-”

“Why would I have an in with the postal goddess?”

“Don’t say it so loudly!”

“Listen, if I speak to anyone down there, it’s Andrena. And she certainly doesn’t-”

“Forget I asked, then,” he said. “I just don’t like all of her requests. We aren’t even supposed to be affiliated with any- you know.” He made a vague fluttering gesture with his hand.

“Gods?”

“Stop saying it!”

“You’re in the middle of a riot. I think people have noticed!”

“She’s just asking for too many favors! I think we ought to push back! I certainly don’t think it’s fair for a- for a god to demand so much of people. I mean, Andrena’s been fair to you, has she not?”

I thought back to all two of my conversations with Andrena. Her self-centered perspective. Her lack of communication. Her demands. The way she still wouldn’t give me magic.

“I’m not sure why the Laundresses are in so deep with Celeres,” I said, and patted him on the back, “But good luck. I’ve got other problems on my plate.”

“Please!” He called, but I was already walking.

The crowd cleared away at the base of the tower. This wasn’t because of some inherent respect for the marble of the Spire. It was because they had hired private armed guards, and they had very nice, large, swords.

I eyed one as we approached. It had a longer reach than the abyssal blade. He could probably use it, too.

So force was out of the question. I scanned the rest of the tower. No windows until three floors up. Smooth, unclimbable stone. One front door.

I squinted. Another door, at the back. Three guards posted at that one too. A service entrance?

A girl was arguing with one guard at the entrance, hands on her hips. He’d taken his helmet off to better run a hand over his face.

“I’ve already told you,” he said, “I can’t let people in! That’s what closed for contemplation means. It’s not open for the next person!”

The Voice of Celeres folded her arms. “And I’ve already told you, I’m expected! I’m not just a normal person. I’m a voice!”

“Yeah, and I’m the last King of the country,” he said, putting his voice up to a false high pitch. “What are you going to be next, the Voice of the Beetle? Go home. Better yet, go break a few windows. Riot’s still on.”

“You- you-”

I stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “She’s overcome. We’ll see to her.”

The voice spun and met my eyes. “Ely-”

“So nice to see you again,” I said. “Let’s speak about this over a drink. Yes?”

She glanced between me and the guards. I leaned in to speak against her ear. “I’m working on a plan. They aren’t going to let us in. Are you in, or are you going to try and duel them?”

I remembered being sixteen very well. The urge to prove myself. The anger with everyone and everything.

The difficulty admitting I had been wrong.

The Voice of Celeres inhaled, then exhaled slowly. “You’re right,” she said. “Let’s go get a drink.”