Peculiar Soul

Chapter 30: Hate the Sin

Chapter 30: Hate the Sin

Two men came upon an artifex on the road, and seeing that he was carrying many fine wares they decided to rob him. The artifex did not resist, laying down his burden for the men to take - but their joy was short-lived, for a great bear emerged from the woods to menace them.

They quaked and feared for their lives before the bear, but seizing the metal from his pack the artifex formed a blade that whipped as fast as thought through the bears neck, striking it dead. The two robbers were overjoyed to be spared, but bowed before the artifex with contrition in their hearts.

You could have killed us just as easily, they said. Yet you did not, and for that we are grateful.

The artifex bade them rise. The penalty for thievery in this country is not death, he said. Take what you must, and remember that none of us here are animals.

- The Book of Eight Verses, the Verse of Growth. (New Kheman Edition, 542 PD)

Michaels thoughts seemed frozen, crystallized in glinting lines as he looked between the three women. Isolde, who had healed him. Vera, who had protected him. Clair-Updated from

Clair, who sat in mockery of herself, the smile on her face shading into confusion as she saw the growing anger in Michaels expression. Vera moved to stand in front of her, and Isolde slowly paced to the side.

How are you here? Isolde demanded. Why do you know this woman?

There was a shimmer in the corner of his eye; Sobriquet, at least, had caught up. It made no move to intervene, however - waiting to see what would transpire, or just reluctant to act hastily with Clairs safety in the balance. Perhaps both. Michael turned to look at Isolde. Not too long ago I would have just answered that question, he said. But Ive recently come to appreciate the value of a kept secret.

Something hardened in Isoldes face, but Vera raised her hand before she could speak again. Were just surprised to see you, she said. This is a battlefield, Michael. Were trying to understand why youre here, and how that came to be. Help us understand whats going on.

Im not sure I know whats going on, Michael said, terse and clipped. I know what it looks like. Maybe you should help me understand, because I dont - I cant. Not after what Sofia showed me that night, not after what Ive seen.

Vera put her hands up, palms out. Youre angry, she said. Lets talk. I can answer any questions you have, I just- She shook her head, giving him a small, sad smile. I thought you had died. We all did. Sofia felt it when Jeorg was killed, and when she couldnt find you - we assumed the worst. Im so glad to see you well.

I wish I could say the same, Michael said. I had assumed better.

The smile faded from her face. Im sorry. You dont want to hear how I feel, Im not - it doesnt matter. She paused, then seemed to collect herself. You want to talk about this woman, and why shes here.

I want to talk about Clair, Michael agreed, taking another step closer. Sofia showed me that night on the pier. She showed me Peter, and what was left of him after Spark was finished. She showed me how he died. He looked at Isolde; her lips were pressed into a bloodless line. I saw your face when you looked at him. I saw you cry when you killed him. And here you are, watching this happen.

Michael turned back to Vera. Jeorg told me that there was a difference between you and Spark. That you took care not to harm others with your soul, respected the sanctity of their minds. Did he lie to me? Or was it you that lied to him?

Vera bit her lip, looking down at the floor for a moment before raising her head up to meet Michaels eyes. Jeorg was telling the truth, she said. I lived with him for a time, we all did. He helped us learn how to use our souls without hurting ourselves or others, and I will always have the lessons he taught me held close to my heart.

Michael kept his face impassive. But? he said.

But Jeorgs world was his farm, Vera said. There are no hard choices there, he made sure of that. He left them far behind when he ran. Right now, were in the War. She looked back at Clair. This woman has killed people, Michael. Shes an enemy soldier. If we werent here, they would have sent her to an Institute Shine instead - one that never walked the fields with Jeorg, never had to see the shell of their friend die on a lonely dock. She would die a husk, with everything stripped away but the parts she needed to scream her secrets over and over in the dark.

She gestured to Clair, who was looking back and forth between the two of them, smiling uncertainly. Is that what youd rather see? Vera asked.

Michael looked down at Clair. There is no difference between what you described and what youve done, he said quietly, returning his eyes to Veras. Youve just made it so you cant hear her scream.

A flicker of tension crossed Veras face, gone in an instant. I cant prevent all of the evil in the War, she said. This is a necessary task, it would have been done by another if not me. I can at least prevent some small quantity of suffering.

Michael clenched a fist, feeling his pulse begin to pound in his ears. Necessary. he rasped. Because youve named her an enemy? Is that all it takes?

Is that not a good reason? Isolde asked, stepping forward to stand beside Vera. She and her comrades are killers, Michael, and they kill Ardans. What were doing here is saving their would-be victims. I dont know how you came to find yourself in their company, but theyre not your friends. Theyre using you as a means to hurt more people.

A sharp bark of laughter slipped past Michaels lips. Clair, he said. Have you told Vera why we were at Severs camp yet?

Clair shook her head. She never asked! she said, looking at Vera with a self-satisfied smile. We were tracking down documents proving that Michaels father killed fifty thousand Daressans and blamed it on the Safid so that Mendian would attack them.

What? Isolde snapped.

Dont you believe her? Michael asked. Youve made sure shell tell you the truth, after all.

Not everything people believe to be true is true, Vera said.

This is, Michael replied. I walked through the ruins of Leik and saw the bodies there. We found those documents. I know my own fathers handwriting. He took one more step, drawing within arms reach of the two women. So would you break his mind too? I dont see why not. He and his comrades are killers, Vera, and they kill Daressans. What were doing here is saving their would-be victims.

Isolde and Vera exchanged a glance, and Vera cleared her throat. Michael, Im sorry - maybe we dont know as much as we thought we did. Maybe we spoke out of turn. Were willing to listen to you, just - lets wait for Sofia and the others to get back, and we can talk about it together.

I dont need your help to fix this, Michael said. Not Sofias, and certainly not Severs. Im only here for Clair.

What will- Vera paused, paling. You intend to give your proof to the Safid? Or to Mendian?

Isolde blanched, stepping back to look at Michael with alarm. No, that cant happen, she said. If what youre saying is true - that will mean another Judgement of the Star, this time against Ardan troops. Thousands will die.

Thousands have already died, Michael said. Dont they deserve their justice?

Then help us do this the right way! Isolde shouted. Bring your proof, come back to Ardalt. We can find a way to hold your father to account for what hes done-

Michael snorted. What will you do, ask the Assembly? Whose plan do you think this is? Look me in the eye and tell me theyd do anything at all.

We dont have all of the answers right now, Vera said, laying a hand gently on Michaels arm. Youre right, its not going to be as simple as presenting the evidence - but we have allies. Sofias father is an influential man, and he can make sure we get a fair hearing. I know Carolus wouldnt condone something like this, hell be on our side.

She let her fingers trace downward, grabbing his hand in both of hers, a pleading expression on her face. Please let us help you, Michael. Theres a path forward where nobody else has to die. We can find it together.

Michael found himself nodding; Vera had a point. It would be messy, but with Sofia and her friends as allies they could bull through the obstacles his fathers faction would raise and get a fair hearing. He had been hasty in writing off all of Ardalt as corrupt; there were still some good people he could count on. People like Vera.

Vera smiled.

Michael smiled back and squeezed her hand - hard. She winced, looking up at him with sudden confusion. His jaw was set, teeth grinding as his hand gripped tighter, tighter, crushing down.

Her soul was insidious, less obvious than the deft manipulations that Spark had forced upon him - but he remembered well the greasy feeling of another soul slithering into his mind. Sparks face swam in his vision, the memory of loss and confusion that followed surging through him in a wave that broke, fractured, splintered. A bare spot stood where once there had been a tree.

He felt fear. It was pulsing, acid, jittering through every nerve in his body - but it was not his fear. His eyes met Veras and found her petrified, her breath coming quick and her heart pounding in the veins of her hand as he squeezed, squeezed-

Isolde, Vera gasped. Run. Run. Oh, no, no no-

Stay out of my head.

Michaels voice ripped through the air; Vera staggered and dropped to her knees. Liar, he rasped. Hypocrite. I looked up to you. I- The words sounded strange to his ears, resonant and clear as if hidden baffles had fallen away. His pulse was a bell tolling through the core of his being.

A touch of defiance colored Veras voice, her posture regaining some of its solidity. One does not live as a Shine without gaining some perspective on what consciousness is. It is not something so easily marred. Change this small thing about me and I am still Vera in all of the ways that truly matter.

This isnt a choice, Michael whispered. Im not going to change you to suit my preference.

Vera slapped him. It hurt - Michael was shocked that he could hurt in this half-real space. He rocked back on his heels as Vera leaned close, her face twisting with anger.

This isnt your preference, she snarled, grabbing his arm. This is my life were talking about. You have the power to spare me and youre afraid of it. She stepped back, glaring, then sank to her knees with her arms spread wide.

Make me who you thought I was, she said. Before today. Cut out the parts that would force you to kill me. I dont- She swallowed, turning her head to look behind her, past her soul and into yawning oblivion.

Im not ready, she said. A high note crept into her voice, and when she looked back at Michael her eyes held only fear. I dont want to die, Michael. Please. Change me, heal me - save me.

Michael looked down at her, and Vera stared back. If I do this to you, he murmured, then who is going to save me? Once I cross that line, whats to stop me from becoming Spark?

You are already Spark, Vera said. The only question now is what sort of Spark you will be. She rose and placed a hand on his cheek, gently, fingers trembling. And whether or not there is a path forward for souls like ours, one you can bear to walk.

Souls like ours. Michaels mouth felt dry, his hands slowly curling into fists. He had failed at burying Spark away. Mendian might still help him, but after Leik he was not sure he wanted them to answer that question for him.

What sort of Spark would he be? If he could not see a way for Vera to live well, carrying the soul of a Shine - then what hope was there for him?

Michael reached up and laid his hand over Veras, pressing it to his cheek. I cant promise this will work, he said. Red marks spread up Veras arm in fractal filigree, and light began a slow pulse in Michaels eyes. Ive never done this before.

Vera stiffened as Michael seized her body. I have, she gasped. Look-

Michael looked, and saw Vera. A quiet child in an empty home. Her life was mundane, if wealthy. Michael found it a familiar picture, in fact. Paid no mind by anyone but servants, she existed in companionable solitude. But where Michael had endured, Vera chafed. Her parents were unsouled, for all their riches, and did not hold the same terror for her that Michaels father had exuded.

She drank and fought, spoke rudely to company, fled her home to dally with boys from the street. When these transgressions stopped provoking a response from her parents she escalated - theft, arson. She ran from home and did not return, a solitary existence among the multitudes.

And then one day, sitting alone on the street and letting the throngs pass by, she lifted her head to find everyones eyes on her. Compliments, propositions, idle conversation - everyone found her fascinating, intoxicating even in her ragged, dirty clothes.

Michael winced as the impressions became jumbled. Vera amid a tangle of bodies, drunkenly calling for more wine. Ordering men to steal for her, fight for her. It was an endless thrill of hedonism - and then everything went black, stifling.

Vera awoke in a sack, gagged and bound. When the darkness lifted the first faces she saw were Vincent and Jeorg. Michael felt a jolt at seeing Jeorgs face with fewer lines than he remembered, some dark patches of hair still clinging to their color.

Found out where those men had disappeared to, Vincent said. This ones been keeping toys.

Jeorg grunted and looked down at her. Not one of Joss, he said. Interesting.

Time blurred, and Jeorg and Vera walked down an orchard row. The sun was hot overhead, the trees showing the first green apples amid their leaves. The mind draws the path that the soul follows, Jeorg said. Gives form to the soul. You have to know that form, to be able to control it.

I already know that, Vera said. My soul makes people like me.

Jeorg smiled. Does it? he asked. How?

It just does, Vera said, scowling. They talk to me, they want to get close.

The two walked for a while, the sun filtering through the leaves overhead. Knew a boy once, Jeorg said. Soul like yours. He couldnt answer that question either.

But I did answer it, Vera retorted.

Jeorg laughed and shook his head. An answer, he said. Not the answer. Ill tell you what I told him. He stopped walking, turning to face Vera with an oddly-serious look on his face. Your soul doesnt make people enjoy your company. Doesnt make them love you. It makes them stay by you, no more. Makes them pay attention.

Vera rocked back on her heels, looking stung. People have fallen in love with me, she objected.

People will fall in love with anything, Jeorg grunted. Especially young men. Doesnt mean they care about it. They care about themselves. How it makes them feel. He raised an eyebrow at Vera. Your soul doesnt care about how they feel. Cares about what you want, nothing more. You want attention. It delivers.

The two walked along quietly, tears marking Veras cheeks. Is that what you think of me? she asked. Im not a bad person.

Of course youre not, Jeorg said, pausing and turning to her. One wrinkled hand gently lifted her face up to him. But not a good person either. Just a person, and a young one. People are selfish. They want what they want. Difference is, you have a soul. You get what you want.

Even if it hurts others, Vera whispered.

He smiled and stepped back. Theres no secret to preventing your soul from harming others. You know how to do it. Just remember that they are people. Care about their future. Want what is good for them. Love them.

Vera stopped and gave Jeorg an incredulous look. That seems too simple, she protested. It cant be that easy.

Is it? Jeorg asked, flashing her a knowing smile. We always put ourselves first. Hard to be mindful, to step back and think of others. Hard to truly understand them. Hard, but not impossible. Learn to do it, and you will never have to fear your soul.

Michaels head pounded amid the stream of impressions, mind racing with Jeorgs words. Jeorg had asked him to describe an apple once, when attempting to explain souls. His answer had made Jeorg laugh, and chide him for only understanding the apples importance to him - not the apples importance to itself.

He felt the ineffable sensation of things clicking into place in his head, saw Vera looking up at him as she realized he intended to tell Mendian of their proof - only this time he felt her fear, her panicked realization that Michael was about to set things in motion that she could not predict. Her decision to influence him, to stoke his trust so that she could involve others and mitigate the damage.

Michael didnt agree with Vera - but he understood.

Two things manifested with razor clarity in that moment of revelation. The first was that he could never force Vera to be what he wanted her to be. Trying to block her from using her soul or imposing Michaels restrictions on its use was ham-handed, doomed to failure - and every bit as destructive as Michael had feared it to be.

But the second was that he did not have to do that. He was in the present once more, staring into Veras frightened eyes. Michael could feel her fear. He could feel her hope - and nestled within, the image of the woman she hoped she would be when Michael was through.

He stirred the part of his soul that was Spark. It was of Life, like Stanza, and more similar than he had first assumed. Like Spark, Stanza was a tool that could break and shatter, bend and tear unnaturally - and like Stanza, Spark could grow.

So Michael focused on the image of Vera as she knew she could be and made it stronger, brighter, unforgettable. He found her remorse over those she had forced her soul upon and bade it flourish to prominence. And last, he found her growing suspicion that Michael had changed her in some fundamental way and stoked it into a certainty.

Then he opened his eyes.

Vera sat upright with a shuddering gasp, grabbing on to Isolde with enough strength to make her wince. Michael stood and looked down at her, watching the tears start to flow from her eyes - then looked up at Sobriquet, hovering just beside him.

I thought you were going to kill her, Sobriquet said with nearly-worrying calm. Its the only reason I didnt, after what she did to Clair.

Michael rubbed at his eyes, feeling a sudden wave of fatigue wash over him. I learned some things, he said. Ill explain later. Where is Clair, anyway?

I had the other three leave, Sobriquet said. No point in them lingering - and you should go too. Youve stayed far too-

A loud bang sounded from the door, which burst apart to reveal a sweaty and disheveled Friedrich, fresh from a hard ride. His eyes darted immediately to Michael and Sobriquet, then narrowed. You, he said, idly rubbing his fingers across the bruise on his cheek. I was hoping we would meet once more.