THE APOSTATE SAINT

Valoricus never carried a sword, though, like all Cabalarii men since before the Fall, he had years of combat training. His ancestors – generals and consuls of countless civil wars – had set a tone no man in their line dared challenge, even over two millennia later. Valoricus came from exceptional stock; his family was one of the few that could trace their heritage back to the great heroes of the past. He didn’t need to carry a sword; he was royalty in a City with no king, and nobody would disrespect the honor of the City enough to threaten someone from such a prestigious family.

With bodyguards in tow, Valoricus left his estate mid-morning without addressing Dacinia. Since their argument about their son Alaric’s choice to join the Stranger, he had avoided her. He had banished her to a secondary suite, a rare occurrence in their marriage, under the guise of her needing extra rest. In truth, he was sickened by how she had embarrassed him. Though she did need rest after the Stranger’s ritual, he didn’t want to see her until he decided how she would make it up to him. Besides, he had important business affecting the City’s fate and couldn’t be bothered by a woman’s concerns, especially one he blamed for their son’s effeminate tendencies.

Valoricus headed to Sanctus Mysta, home of the priests, without doubting his actions. Consul Quintus Maximilius was out of reach by design – the City’s religious and political bodies were separated to prevent conflicts like those that arose after the Toriad’s departure. The separation created two branches of government: one to maintain the body and one to maintain the soul of the populace. Though not the first to overstep boundaries to influence the other side, Valoricus knew arriving unannounced was dangerous.

“How can I help you, senator?” the monk at the door asked, as if he hadn’t expected a Senate member. The monks of the Astrum Order were trained combatants, known for their control over their physical bodies. Valoricus had heard stories of heretics found dead, their limbs spread in the Namer’s star-pattern, slain by these men of God. The monks never carried weapons, but that didn’t matter. Even with three guards, Valoricus didn’t feel safe in the monk’s presence.

“I humbly request entry for urgent business.”

“Urgent business, you say? And what would that be?”

Valoricus sized up the guard to gauge his decision. This was the heart of the City’s religion. A senator entering these grounds sent a clear signal of overstepping jurisdiction. Arriving without an appointment was a clear violation of protocol. Valoricus knew his presence signaled desperation, bypassing proper channels that could take weeks.

“I have come to speak with my wife’s brother.”

“I’m overjoyed to hear you’ve buried the hatchet.”

Valoricus had never met this man, but the monk knew of the enmity between Valoricus and Dacinia’s brother, Stasius Barbatus. Swallowing his pride for the City’s good meant nothing if he was turned away.

“Suppose I give you my word I’ve come not on the Senate’s behalf but to discuss important family business with Stasius?”

“And what business would that be?”

“It is a private matter.”

“A private matter concerning a certain bearer of the Gifts, maybe?”

“A private matter.”

“I am sworn to share no gossip, expose no secrets. You can give me the message and I shall relay it.”

“It is for his ears only.”

“And by my tongue, he shall hear it.”

“What is your name?”

The monk smiled, knowing he had badgered Valoricus enough to make him crack. “Frater Liboritus, at your service.”

“Liboritus, you have family, yes?”

The monk nodded, smirk still on his face.

“Suppose a family member came to you with urgent news and another guard stopped them. How would you react?”

“Have I stopped you from relaying the message?”

“You have stopped me from delivering it myself.”

“This is not the same thing.”

Valoricus was losing patience. The monk was well-suited for employment as a door guard at Valoricus’ estate, but Valoricus had no time for games. He decided to redirect his efforts.

“Tell me, frater, how much is your stipend?”

The monk leaned in, eyes shifting. Valoricus understood the game.

“Ten?”

The monk shook his head and pointed up.

“Fifteen?”

The monk pointed up again.

“Surely the consul isn’t paying you more than fifteen. That sum is ridiculous.”

The monk narrowed his eyes but pointed up once more.

“I’ve humored your game long enough,” Valoricus said. “Tell me where to exchange the fee later, and I’ll have forty delivered tonight.”

The monk’s smile waned, but he held his thumb up.

“Forty is generous. I will go no higher.”

Liboritus shifted his signal from a thumbs-up to a straight pointer finger, lifted high as if pointing out a passing bird.

“That’s my fee. Right up there.”

Valoricus didn’t need to look up to realize his mistake. Bribing a man of faith was foolish. Valoricus bit his tongue, realizing he had one move left.

“Fine. Tell Stasius his brother-in-law is here with important matters.”

The monk stared, savoring his victory.

“Fine,” he said, then went inside, shutting the door. Ten minutes passed, during which Valoricus heard talking and laughing inside. When Liboritus returned, he was alone.

“Cardinal Stasius will see his flesh and blood. Fetch your wife; she alone may enter.”

Furious, Valoricus wanted to lash out but held back. Instead, he and his guards returned home. Valoricus marched to Dacinia’s room, ready to unleash his wrath. Inside, he found three servants surrounding Dacinia, who lay on her bed. Two were hysterical, and one tried to wake her.

“Oh dear Namer,” Valoricus uttered, rushing to his wife’s side. She looked ghastly, drained, even worse than after the Stranger’s ritual. Her skin was pale, her hair thin, and her eyes lifeless. She wasn’t merely asleep.

“She wasn’t ill. Dacinia was murdered.”

The servants couldn’t comprehend his conclusion, but Valoricus knew who to blame.

“Get the guards,” he told a servant. “Have them deliver her body to Sanctus Mysta. Tell them I will see the cardinal immediately.”

Valoricus waited until everyone left to cry, but no tears came.