Author's Preface
Sarah was anxious the entire trip there, that should’ve been my first clue.
At the time I’d thought it was just ‘cause I was lugging an idol to a deity of unknown licensure under my arm through the streets. Having anything to do with a deity who wasn’t signed on to the Divine Charter, or worse, who you hadn’t gone through the appropriate tests and paperwork to worship and believe in, was pretty much one of the biggest crimes on the books these days.
Sure, she was a Bishop and could probably smooth that kind of thing over, but still. It was unlike her to stare moodily out the window like that as our cab rolled through the streets.
It was fine, I had a lot on my mind myself. I’d been watching the streets roll by myself until she spoke up.
“Alex, can I ask a… favor?”
I looked up. She didn’t even need to wait for an answer, she knew it was a yes. So she kept going.
“Let’s not march straight to Irons’ office. I’ve got- she might not even be there right now anyway. If we’re gonna be at the First Cathedral of the Charter anyway, there’s a big fuck-off file library, I wanna check if she, uh…” She gestured towards the idol in my hands. “...Exists, first.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me. Might give us a little more to negotiate. Worst case scenario, you can sign her onto the charter then and there?”
“Hah! Hey, it’s the Cathedral of the Charter, the original paper’s there, maybe we make her one of the nine? Chartered Ten rolls off the tongue better too.” She smirked back at me, letting out a laugh.
“Seriously, how…” I paused, looking at the metal statue in my hands. The arms were chained up, unusable even if they weren’t, you know, immovable metal. “...how do they sign anything?”
“You dip the base in ink like a stamp and slam it down at the bottom of the paper. It’s awful, gets everywhere.”
“Uh, really…?” I asked, blinking. She let out a second laugh, louder.
“No! They use their powers to manipulate the quill, or get an authorised priest of theirs to act as their hands.”
It wasn’t that funny of a joke, but it got a chuckle out of me anyway. I was still smiling as we went back to waiting to arrive at the cathedral.
I was still smiling as she took out her flask and took a swig from it, too. The only thing I thought at the time was that she was probably thirsty.
We breezed through into the records room.
The First Cathedral of the Charter was a weird, multi-purpose building. Part bureaucratic hub, part church, part reliquary. The main part most people ever got to see was the gorgeous little museum where the Divine Charter and several other significant relics from the original signing were held. I’m told it’s one of the most awe-inspiring sights to see in the city.
I don’t know if that’s true, because we entered through a back door into a concrete slab of an extension to the original building, and went through a couple of undecorated corridors until we emerged into a records hub. I didn’t get to see any of the beautiful ancient artefacts or legendary historical relics, I was stuck here.
The Cathedral records room wasn’t even uniquely, well, religious. It was just like the one back in the University, I wouldn’t have known I was anywhere else, except…
“You don’t have a deity acting as librarian?” I asked. It seemed an odd omission, given where we were. Sarah chuckled.
“What? No, they’re bastard finicky and more expensive than paying a human to do it. Plus, our job is kind of to keep them under control. There’s some morons out here, but we ain’t quite dumb enough to let them run our papers.”
“Huh.” I hummed, curious. “Wait, if it’s more expensive, why does anybody-”
“Subsidies.” Sarah hummed. I blinked in surprise. I opened my mouth to ask further questions, but Sarah had already moved on to talking with the priest who was standing at the desk where a deity should be.
“Need to find out if there’s a divine contract for Our Lady of the Infinite Regress.” I saw Sarah shift as she put her business face on, turning more serious. She cursed a bit less, actually straightened her back a little to look less than absolutely tiny, trying to impose a bit of Bishoply authority over the junior priestly clerk who was about twice her height.
Okay she wasn’t that short, but still. He gave a nod, and came back a minute or two later with some papers.
“Here you go, Bishop. As requested.”
She took the paper. It was surprisingly mundane for a divine contract, though clearly a pretty old document, the edges were yellowed with age and the ink was noticeably faded.
Sarah let out a sigh through her teeth, nearly a whistle. She turned and slumped against the wall, arm to her forehead wiping away sweat.
“Oh thank the fuckin’ chartered… Oh, sweet Hylyss… save my sorry fuckin’ arse…”
“Sarah, you uh-” I looked on with concern. She was laughing, practically hysterical.
“She exists! Hahaaah! She exists. We have a full history and everything. Young deity, fifty years old or so, worshipped by university researchers, Counterphysics department mostly. Oooh, look at this!”
She shoved the paper in my face. I didn’t really need to read it, I didn’t see the relevance. There was a picture of her though, sketched out with rough linework, but it sure looked like her. I compared the idol in my arms to the one on the paper. Less tears, maybe, the one on the paper could’ve been playing peek-a-boo or hiding laughter instead.
“Okay?” I asked Sarah. “I knew she exists. I mean I’m glad I’m not gonna get arrested again for, uh… yeah, but…” This seemed a bit much for clearing her conscience about keeping an unlicensed deity around. There was something else here.
“No, no. It’s not that, it’s-” She took a deep breath in, and stood up again. She adjusted her shirt, glanced to the priest. “You didn’t see all that, okay? I’m a professional, dignified fuckin’ bishop. I know you’re not under me, who’s your supervisor?”
“It’s, uh- Bishop Ryan, ma’am?”
“I have dinner with him on Vickdays. You mention any of this, I know where it came from.”
He swallowed audibly, obviously sufficiently intimidated. Sarah passed the contract back to him. “Get me a copy made. And-”
“You gonna tell me what that was about?” I asked, still lost.
“Easy, I’m about to give- we’re about to give Irons a bollocking.” She rubbed her hands together in absolute glee. “Prove her wrong about everything, and-” She paused, running out of steam rather abruptly. I wasn’t sure what had snagged her thoughts, it was almost like she’d seen something. It gave me a chance to speak, at least.
“...And get her to stop trying to have me arrested or starving in the streets…?” I tried. She winced at that, and if she’d lost steam before, now she stopped entirely.
“...yeah. Okay, no, fair. Look, this is- you have to understand. If the god already existed, Raspe didn’t create her, somehow. Irons is wrong about the box, which… it’s a big deal, okay? Politically. I know this… I know we’re here for you, but-” She smiled a pained little smile, guilty. “Can you let me do the talking, here? Getting- look, getting her to stop having folks harass you is priority one, but…”
“You’re a terrible friend.” I told her. But I was smiling, and I saw her face light up. “Sure, you can do the talking, this is your domain and I owe you more’n one at this point. Might as well let you get your gloating in, yeah? And score your dirty, dirty political points.”
“Ah, yes, truly, I’m the dirty politician, for mockery and derision are filthy tactics compared to her noble and honest siccing-the-police-on-people-I-don’t-like.”
“The absolute worst, truly.” I smirked, before grunting. I didn’t miss the edge in Sarah’s tone, her looks. I couldn’t put my finger on it, the laughter didn’t sound genuine, a little forced. Which was odd, she’d never hesitated to joke like that before. I figured it was best to just move the conversation on.
“Anyway, can we, uh, can we get out of here? I’ve been carrying this thing for like ten minutes now and she’s…” I sagged a bit, adjusting my grip on Lady Regress’ idol. “She’s kinda heavy.”
It didn’t take long to arrange the meeting, though it took longer for Irons to show up.
Just like she’d said back at my place, all I had to do was show up at the church and ask to see her. One of the priests sat me down in this little waiting area, offered me a drink, and told me Irons would be right here.
She was not right there, but after an hour or two, she arrived. Me and Sarah managed to get ahold of the latest crossword to do in the meantime, and since Sarah worked here she took the opportunity to do a bit of paperwork too. The waiting was pretty tolerable, all told.
“Apologies, I had to get a cab here, I was on the other side of the city. But I promised I would meet with you anytime, and I keep my word.”
Irons was dressed down compared to last I’d seen her. She was in an outfit more similar to Sarah’s now, closer to a business suit, albeit still nearly drowning in ornate and ostentatious jewellery, an excessive number of channeling necklaces that looked like it had to weigh her down. They jangled whilst she walked, a constant audible jingling.
“All this for me? I’m flattered.” I tried to sound sincere, but I knew it wasn’t really about me.
“Well, you and my counterpart. Bishop Sullivan, how are you? I haven’t seen you in person since the last conclave.” Irons’ voice was surprisingly professional. Sarah’s wasn’t.
“Look, this isn’t exactly a formal meeting, and last time we had one that was formal you called me a cow, so let’s not pretend to like each other and get to the important bits?” She grunted. Bishop Sullivan shifted uncomfortably.
“That is… not the phrasing I recall using, but-”
“‘If we are to meet reality with the sheer incuriousness of the Foundationalist bishops, a near bovine placidity and disinterest…” Sarah put on airs, a rather awful Irons impression. I repressed a snicker, as Irons opened the door to her office.
“That was directed at no bishop in particular, I assure you. Please, sit.”
The room was more spartan than I expected. I’d gotten used to the religious splendour around Sarah, I think. The cathedrals she worked at were glitz and glamor, everything gold-lined, every window stained glass. Sure, they were paperwork and admin hubs too, but gussied up compared to, say, the university. Apparently Integralists didn’t do that stuff. After Irons’ initial attempts to impress me in full regalia back home, her office was shockingly functional. There weren’t any posters on the walls, even, and I knew the priesthood was addicted to those things. There was just a desk, a chair, some scraps of paperwork and bare walls. It wasn’t totally lifeless, the desk had coffee-stains from where a mug had been, and the chair’s seating had a cushion which was a different color to the one on the back, clearly replaced. The woman wasn’t a robot, just not prone to decoration.
I felt like I’d gone in with a lot of energy that had been co-opted by Sarah. I’d promised to let her talk, but this was my confrontation, my problem with Irons, right? I shuffled awkwardly, feeling like a third wheel.
I sat, Sarah stood. She was looking rather smug, and given Irons was sat too, for once Sarah got to look down at somebody. She was probably enjoying it.
And yet, she didn’t slam her papers down on the table. Her first question was quieter, more cautious.
“If I ask you which Cardinal let you set the police on Alex, will you be honest?”
Both me and Irons were equally surprised at that. She blinked, taken aback. “Pardon me?”
“We’re both Bishops - that’s enough to let you keep Alex out of church jobs, but if your rank gave you the power to throw the police at her, I’d be using mine to call them off. You’ve got the backing of some other Integralist and are using their influence. It isn’t the Pope, so which Cardinal?”
Irons tilted her head to the side with a cold gaze, and stayed silent long enough it became clear she wasn’t going to answer. Sarah growled in frustration.
“Guess we’re not being polite tonight. Jeez, what crawled up your cunt and died? What, you already know what’s on these papers?”
“I know what Miss Ruge has in her arms.” It was the first time she’d acknowledged the huge chunk of brass I was holding. She sighed, exasperation seeping through her stony mask. “Bishop Sullivan, whatever I think of you, I at least know you aren’t stupid, and I know you don’t think I’m stupid. Even if you’d brought a forgery it would be one I’d take months to prove, and I don’t think you would try that kind of trick in the first place.”
Sarah’s lip curled at the accusation. But she bit her tongue.
“The Godbox we have in custody is incomplete, then. That’s-”
“You have in custody? You mean the police?” I asked. I’d been staying quiet so far. Irons looked irritated that I’d cut into her little tete-a-tete, Sarah did too. But she turned to me, slowly.
“Petty smuggling, assault and murder aside, we’re trying Frank Crewe as a heretic. He prayed to, worshipped and interacted with a number of deities without proper license, and without ensuring his beliefs about them were in line with church teaching to avoid corrupting them. This makes it a church matter, and so both he and the murder weapon used against Raspe are in our custody.”
“Vick, why don’t you just take over wholesale, if you’re running the justice system now. Half parliament’s already in your pocket, and-” I hissed. I knew I shouldn’t snipe, this was the wrong time and place for it. The edges of Irons’ lip twitched a little, but thankfully Sarah got us back on track.
“We’re willing to hand over the deity that powered the Godbox.” She said, a little louder than she had to. “In exchange for getting you off her back, and a formal acknowledgement of how the box works and was manufactured to the local press.”
“And I want to examine the reassembled box.” I raised my hand. My voice came out quiet, meek. “And uh- to get to talk to Frank. The- actual Frank, the one who- is he really shagging the minister of education like he said?”
Irons near enough goggled at me, shocked. “Why on earth would you want to do any of that? Not that I can’t arrange both, but…”
“Haven’t- Haven’t I been clear about what I want, this entire time? How am I going to make a new box without looking at the old one? And Frank…” I wanted to know how he got ahold of the box. I wanted to know why he’d felt the need to kill me. I wanted to know just how involved he’d been in Raspe’s death. But most of all? I wanted to know what he knew.
“Why would you want to make another? There’s a god in there, that’s all. It’s thoroughly clear at this point that it’s nothing new.” I felt a little tightness in my chest, felt small, somehow. I wanted to bring up the reality warp in Raspe’s office and my results with the carved idol the police had confiscated, but under Irons’ steely gaze I couldn’t quite find the strength to. Everything seemed to fit so well into a coherent story, that is was a deity that had killed Raspe, that powered the box, that fled to the Liberationists, I felt if I pointed out the little things that didn’t quite fit she’d call me mad, cast me out.
Give me that speech about what reality thinks all over again.
She looked at me like I was an idiot, but an idiot she wasn’t going to turn down. I’d take that, at least.
“That’s all arrangeable, regardless. It won’t get you anywhere, if the box is indeed… well.” Irons seemed bitter, as she pulled the papers Sarah had laid down closer to her. “But arrangeable. For all the political capital I’ve sunk into this, I’ll be happy to be done with the affair.”
“Hylyss’ tits, are you really not even going to get mad about it? You just lost, give me something at least!” Sarah was pouting almost childishly at Irons.
“Must you be so vulgar?” Irons winced at the cursing. “Besides, this is hardly a defeat. We sank a lot of resources into a wasted project, sure, but we got some benefits out of it.” She shuffled the papers in front of her. I didn’t trust how amenable she was being, and I didn’t trust how she didn’t quite say what those benefits were. I expected a lot more pushback about this.
“I can arrange you to view the Godbox immediately, and with the return of the idol have no further reason to pursue police action or… ah, to make advisory comments to the church’s satellite organizations about your employment.”
“Or to send people to break into my place.”
She tilted her head a fraction, genuine confusion. “That… isn’t something I’ve been doing. That is a concern. I’ll throw guards for your home into the bargain then, can’t have something untoward happening.” She reached around and took out a little notebook, scribbled some things down. “I assume if you’re interested in replicating the device you’ll also want copies of Raspe’s notes and correspondence. We’ve managed to secure almost all of it.”
The words came out casual. My face lit up and my heart soared at the offer. I leant forward hard enough my chair screeched against the ground.
Sarah’s face fell, though. She took in a sharp breath through her nostrils, nearly furious. “Wait, you son of a fuck, you have-”
I did a double take. I hadn’t expected that reaction out of her. It took the wind out of my sails, and I drew back, asking “Wait, is there a problem with that? That sounds amazing to me, right?”
Sarah didn’t reply. She drew herself in and went very quiet indeed. “No, that’s fine.” She said after a moment, tone wavering. “Though legally we’d likely need to hold back private correspondences, privacy issues…”
“We’ll remove anything we don’t have a right to make public.” Irons waved a hand dismissively, and Sarah’s lips set into a line, a thin grimace. “Unless you’d rather keep crucial details quiet? My, Bishop, you seemed rather eager to have the details of his work made public a second ago. Rather a coup for you, no? If we’re seen to be hiding anything…”
Sarah’s expression set into a mask, a solid poker face. “No, that seems reasonable.” She said, and she somehow managed to make it sound like a death threat.
“Is, uh, is there something I’m missing…?” I asked. “Sarah, what’s-”
Irons cut me off, seeming content in her victory. She leaned back in her chair as she pented her fingers. “Internal church matters, is all. So then, do you have any other demands? Or shall I show you to where we’ve kept it all?”
Sarah took another swig from her flask as we came into the examination room.
Like the centerpiece of a museum display, the Godbox was in the middle of the room. Or the shell of it, anyway, the large box with the velvet curtains, which the real source of power had been hidden inside.
It was surrounded by a runic circle drawn in chalk, nodes at the cardinal points containing rare sea-shells and piles of salt, all hooked up to a little idol to Anchorhold, one of the Chartered Nine, in this case a literal anchor made of porous grey-green stone. He was a deity of protection, they were worried about it breaking out somehow.
“I’ll have people bring you the papers, we held those elsewhere.” Irons said, gazing upon it. “A shame to know all this was pointless, it’s just a husk. We can use it to contain her, I suppose. Or at least renegotiate her contract.” A gesture towards Lady Regress. I set her down in the corner of the room, arms aching from carrying her quite literally everywhere today. I rolled my wrists, they were stiff from the effort.
“Can we-?” I asked, stepping towards the circle. Sarah answered that one.
“Anchorhold, I beseech thee, leave.”
There was no shimmer of air or expenditure of energy here, but a little of that background static faded away. It was so prevalent in this building I’d barely noticed it was there, and even now it wasn’t all gone, just lessened. She stepped into the circle, drew the curtains back.
I peered inside the Godbox. It really was a lot like an old-style church confessional booth from the Age of Gods. There was nothing inside except a fairly plush and well-cushioned bench on the left side, a little gap that was just barely enough to provide leg-room, and a second bench on the right that wasn’t for humans to sit on, but instead had a little round inlay for the base of Lady Regress’ idol.
“Just a shell.” I ran my hand across the inner wall. It was cushioned with plush leather, which must have been expensive. I knelt down and ducked my head, I could see wire emerging from the wall and under where the idol was meant to go, which would have been feeding it electricity, sacrifices.
Something felt off here. This was a little too empty, it was missing something. I went back to Lady Regress’ idol. Looked it over, top to bottom.
It was sculpted in the shape of a weeping woman, tears, kneeling down and covering her eyes. The statuette was made of brass, similar to most of the Godbox. I picked it up, looked at the base. It was a circular slab of the same material, attached to the statuette by the kneeling legs. Some idols were made of multiple materials, but this was all a single one.
The Godbox definitely felt too empty. I looked back over at it.
“Hm… This isn’t valuable anymore, is it? Can I damage-” I asked, turning back to Irons. I saw that she was gone already though, and so probably wasn’t going to answer.
“I don’t see why not.” Sarah replied in her stead. I had a feeling Irons might have given a different answer, but who was I to argue with a bishop?
I pried at the leather with my fingernails. Whoever put this together wasn’t exactly a talented leatherworker, the stitching wasn’t great, enough I could make some progress. It came up at the edges, but only a little, exposing brass and wood underneath. I could still only see a few exposed inches though, and even as I tugged, it stayed in place, only pliable up to a point. I tugged, and I felt a stitch come loose. Tugged again, and another. But I was already exhausting myself, and at that rate tearing the leather loose entirely would take all day.
“Could use a knife…” I murmured. I knew there was something here, something missing. That something had to be here somewhere, right? It could only be behind the walls, inside them.
I was distracted from my prying by a loud thud. A few assistants, Junior priests, dropping off piles of paperwork. Letters and correspondence.
“Oh, perfect!” I grinned, heading over to the piles.
There was a single letter, probably taken from Raspe’s study, one which had been closed by the wax seal of the Priest’s Union but had since been opened. It was theatrically placed at the top of the pile, clearly placed there intentionally for me to see and read first.
Sarah leaned against the wall, sipping her flask, staring at the floor. She didn’t come to join me looking at the documents, nor in investigating the box.
The letter was too clearly placed, I sensed a trap and hesitated with my hand already half extended to pick it up. But then I told myself I was being stupid. What was I going to do, not read it? It might be important, I couldn’t just ignore it.
Sarah had said they shouldn’t give me private correspondence, come to think. Privacy issues, maybe that was the trap?
Though this was privacy Union investigators had already violated by the looks. And it was a Union seal, which the Union had handed over for me to read. One party to the correspondence clearly consented to it being read, and the other was dead.
I picked up the letter. Scanned through it.
It read rather a lot like the letters the Union had been sending me, actually. It was a legal threat, a cease and desist. Wanting him to stop, uh ‘Illegal research threatening to disrupt common patterns of belief in the gods, and thus damage social and mechanical infrastructure in the nation of Lysium, and specifically the city of Eccless’. It was mostly legalese, written in god-written type, but at the bottom was a hand-written section in a familiar handwriting. It was accusing him of trying to set himself up as one of the old gods, and how this couldn’t be allowed, telling him to quit before his life was ruined, his position at the university stripped, his assets seized.
It was signed at the bottom by Bishop Sarah Sullivan.