The Silver Sphinx

 

“Even in a city without borders, there are things that must not be lost.”

from the children's book “The Dabus' Lost Socks”

 

 

Third Lower Day of Mortis, 126 HR

After Sarin had finished, he leaned back and eyed Runako Fireheart closely. He had just revealed to his prefect everything concerning the Ring Prophecy and the God Machine, everything that had happened in this regard in recent months. In the Harmonium, apart from himself and Kiyoshi, only his wife Faith, his two legates, his adjutant and Lady Juliana knew about it. However, Sarin trusted the leonin and also appreciated him on a personal level, so he had wanted to let him in on these secrets for a while. His immediate plans concerning Red Shroud and the ill-fated kiss had now brought him to do just that. In the undesirable case that something did go wrong, it couldn't hurt if someone else within the faction knew about all this, someone who was highly respected and had strong authority. To the right of Prefect Fireheart sat Sarin's deputy Tonat Shar, and to his left, his aide Amariel. The two now eyed Runako with as much anticipation as the factol himself.

The prefect had listened to this incredible report with all the majestic dignity of a leonin. Finally, he nodded, measured and thoughtful, and examined Sarin intently with his green eyes. “Well, Factol, I must admit, this is a more than astonishing story. And one that will certainly occupy my thoughts for quite some time. I thank you for trusting me with this information, my lord.“

He bowed his massive head towards Sarin, but the paladin waved it off. ”If anyone deserves my trust, it is you, Prefect. We have served together in turbulent times and knew we could rely on each other.”

Tonat nodded solemnly at these words. During the factolship of Ulan Delazar, the leonin had shared the same views as the legate himself, Sarin and Killeen, and this had brought them very close. It was common knowledge that Runako had voted for Delazar's dismissal at the time, and for Sarin, this was a clear sign of his integrity.

“Those were indeed turbulent times,” the prefect replied. “Times in which you, above all, had to make difficult decisions. And today, with all due respect, you have apparently made difficult and also ... unorthodox decisions once again.”

Tonat laughed. “You always had the courage to speak your mind, Fireheart, even to your factol. That's why I like you so much.”

Sarin could see that Amariel, sitting on the other side of the leonin, gave the legate a surprised look, but he smiled at Tonat's remark. Here, in this familiar setting, he was allowed to make it, and his friend knew very well when such comments were appropriate and when they were not.

“Unorthodox decisions, huh?” the factol replied, not without a trace of self-mockery. “Too right, Prefect. If you’re alluding to Sgillin ...”

“Sgillin, the alliance with the Athar, the imminent kiss with Red Shroud ...” Runako pulled his lips back slightly, clearly an amused grin, although it always involved a row of sharp teeth. “In all honesty, factol, if I didn't know the specific reasons, I would certainly doubt you. Given the circumstances, however, I can understand. I myself would probably not have acted differently. Which doesn't necessarily mean that I have to like it.”

Sarin sighed. “There can be no question of liking it, you're right. It's more a case of being in a tight spot and in a hopeless situation.”

“Yes, that's pretty much it.” The prefect nodded gracefully. “And you have both my good wishes and my respect, factol. You are willing to risk a lot and sacrifice a lot. Not everyone in your position would do that. But in my eyes, it speaks volumes about you.“

Amariel smiled with relief. ”I was sure you would see it that way, sir.“

”So was I, my friend.” Tonat patted the leonin briefly on the shoulder, a very familiar gesture that he otherwise reserved for Killeen and sometimes Sarin.

The factol nodded to Runako. “Thank you, Prefect, I really appreciate that. I hope and pray that everything will go well. And while Killeen, as always, will take care of Arcadia and Tonat will represent me here in Sigil, you also have an important task ahead of you.”

The leonin bowed his head briefly. “You are referring to the shadow thefts, my lord.”

“Exactly,” Sarin confirmed, then looked at his adjutant. “Decuria, please.”

“Yes, factol.” Amariel straightened up and then turned to Runako. “I have received news from my ... well, my somewhat ... unorthodox allies.”

Sarin couldn't help but smile and saw that Tonat was also grinning a little. He knew that Prefect Fireheart had reprimanded his aide for not following the Harmonium's operational guidelines in this case. And he had been right to do so. Not only had Amariel put herself in a very risky situation outside of acute danger, she had even sent her comrades Nallart and Aranis Verûsa back to the Barracks beforehand and had been alone in the Hive with a blood hunter she didn't know and two members of the Doomguard. The regulations of the faction would certainly have allowed for some kind of disciplining in such a case. However, Prefect Fireheart had declared that it was not his place to impose a punishment on the adjutant of the factol and had left the matter to Sarin himself.

But Sarin had refrained from punishing the young woman. Amariel was smart, courageous, determined to help those in need and had her heart in the right place. She may have acted a little rashly, but who hadn't done so in the course of their service? Her older brother Killeen had certainly done so often enough, and if Sarin was honest with himself, he knew that he too had sometimes made such risky decisions during investigations and missions. Even Tonat had not been clear of this, and Lady Juliana had told them so more than once. So why should he punish Amariel for a single misstep that was far outweighed by her many good qualities as an officer? She was an excellent aide to him and had also grown very dear to his heart. He had emphatically instructed her to adhere to the mission guidelines in the future, but otherwise he had let her minor transgression pass.

Now she looked at Prefect Fireheart with a certain nervousness as she mentioned her unorthodox allies. “I apologize for not informing you about this yet, sir. But I was with factol Sarin when I received the urgent message and ...”

The leonin raised his hand and growled soothingly. “Duty to the factol comes before all else,” he explained. “It was, of course, entirely correct to inform him of the message's contents immediately. Now, what does it say?”

Sarin did not fail to notice Amariel's relieved sigh. “Síkhara, the blood hunter, sent me a letter just an hour ago,” the half-elf explained. “She managed to locate the hideout of the shadow thieves. And she also found out who these thieves are: the sect of the Illuminated.”

“The Illuminated? Upon my soul!” Tonat slammed his flat hand loudly on the armrest of his chair. “Haven't those deluded fools caused enough trouble already? I had hoped they would be content to wreak havoc in Plague-Mort. Or let themselves be slaughtered by tanar'ri in the catacombs beneath Broken Reach.”

Sarin sighed. “I had hoped so too. But it seems we are not so lucky.”

“Unfortunately not, sir,” Amariel explained. “According to Síkhara, they are directly responsible for these thefts. And based on what we know about them so far, about their attempts to infiltrate all the factions with sleeper agents, we must assume that there is more to it than simply selling the stolen shadows for profit.”

“Indeed,” Sarin agreed. “We must act quickly. And as much as I would like to take care of this matter personally, I'm afraid I have other ... obligations at the moment.” He sighed deeply. “As my legate, Tonat will represent me, but I'm assigning you, Prefect Fireheart, with putting a stop to the Illuminated's game. Decuria Amariel will assist you and liaise with Síkhara and - Iomedae forgive me - the two Sinkers. Assemble a powerful detail and put an end to this nightmare!“

The leonin bowed his mighty head. ”Of course, factol. You can rest assured that the matter will be dealt with successfully.”

Amariel also looked determined, and Tonat nodded to the two of them. “If you need anything, be it soldiers or officers, equipment or warrants ... whatever it may be, let me know. I will provide you with all the support you need.”

With all the matters Sarin had wanted to discuss with the prefect now covered, he pushed back his chair and stood up. “Well ... I must excuse myself now. I have to accomplish a journey to the realm of Shekinester tomorrow, and I promised my younger children that I would put them to bed.”

His three officers quickly stood up and saluted. Of course, he did not fail to notice that they were looking at him with a mixture of concern and sympathy.

“Take care, Sarin,” Tonat said calmly but seriously. “We need you here.”

Amariel nodded vigorously. “That's right, factol! And not just your family and the Harmonium. The whole city. Even if it doesn't realize it.”

He smiled at his friends' concern, feeling both grateful and touched. “I promise I'll be careful. And I have very competent support with me. It will be fine.”

Runako Fireheart nodded gracefully. “If anyone can do it, it's you, factol. I will still pray to Ba-en-Aset for you. The blessing of another goddess certainly can't hurt.”

Another. Sarin sighed inwardly. If only he knew whether he even had the blessing of his own goddess. But he couldn't bring that up here and now. So he straightened himself, thanked the three of them and then watched as they left his office and Tonat closed the door behind them. He remained standing behind his desk for a while, silent and pensive. Then he pulled himself together and opened the door to his family quarters. The twins, Daria and Felian, were only one year old and already asleep, but Beleno, Amarys and Harika - three, six and eight years old - were waiting for him to read them a bedtime story. He could hear their muffled voices through the door to the living room, but he first went to his and Faith's bedroom to take off his armor, which he had worn on duty as always. As soon as he closed the door behind him, his children's voices were barely audible. For the first time since early morning, he was finally alone - but also alone with his thoughts, which were neither pleasant nor welcome at the moment. He sighed deeply and ran his fingers over his amulet with the symbol of Iomedae.

“What am I doing?” he whispered. The question echoed in the silence of the room, unanswered.

He unfastened the buckles of his armor, hung the breastplate and shoulder plates on the wooden stand next to the fireplace, and placed the bracers and greaves on the dresser next to it. As he threw his aketon over one of the chairs, his gaze fell on the mirror on the opposite wall. He was now wearing only his shirt, the top buttons undone, revealing his collarbones and part of his shoulders. A line ran across his neck to his right scapula ... a scar that had faded. But the memory of what had caused it had not. Sarin slowly undid the remaining buttons, slipped off his shirt and turned slightly to look at his shoulders and back in the mirror. He had been carrying the scars that crisscrossed his body for several years now. Pale lines by now, lighter than the tanned skin surrounding them, remaining evidence of a more than unpleasant past. A reminder of his former factol, Ulan Delazar. He slowly ran his fingers over the scars, and the memories rekindled ...

... the courtyard of the Barracks, the cool wind on his bare shoulders, Delazar's satisfied gaze, the searing pain, the feeling of powerlessness ... The scars left by the whip told his very personal story of rebellion against his factol and the consequences he had to bear for it. Nevertheless, it had been the right decision, even if it had cost him almost everything. And he had been just as convinced of that back then, on that ill-fated day, as he was now, looking back, having been factol himself for years. In the end, he had won. Delazar had been deposed, Lady Juliana had taken over the office, and passed it on to him just two years later. The scars remained ... he had wanted it that way. He remembered the moment when Juliana had offered to remove them with a powerful prayer. They would have disappeared as if they had never existed. But he had refused. They reminded him that sometimes in life one had to pay a price to remain true to oneself. And that it was worth it.

Sarin knew, of course, that the inhabitants of Sigil saw these scars when he visited the baths in the Great Gymnasium with his family. He noticed the furtive glances that followed him, the whispers said in secret. There was a lot of talk in the City of Doors, and so most people knew where the welts came from. The older children, Marinda, Yaëlla, Sirian and Sanya, knew their story and cause as well. They had been old enough to remember that day. They had seen him shortly after, and they had internalized how important it was that such a time never recurred in the Harmonium. He remembered something his firstborn, Marinda, had recently said to him: That she had learned from him that true strength lay not in the absence of scars, but in the ability to bear them with dignity. Her words had touched him more deeply than she could have imagined.

But these scars were apparent. Visible to anyone who wanted to see them, but they did not define him. The coming day, on the other hand, might be just as fateful as that distant one. And how might it scar him? Would Iomedae approve of his actions? Or would he jeopardize his status as a paladin and his position as factol? And even more gravely, would this decision also affect his wife and children? Perhaps this agonizing uncertainty was the worst part of the whole situation. He glanced at the door when he heard the faint sound of the handle turning. Faith entered. She wore a simple white dress, and her long dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders. She gently closed the door behind her and stepped closer, her footsteps barely audible on the soft carpet.

She stood next to him, placed a hand on his shoulder and studied him silently. She knew him too well not to know what was crossing his mind. “I can guess what you're thinking,” she said after a while.

Sarin eyed her seriously. “Really?”

 

 

She nodded. “Back then, all those years ago, you made a decision based solely on your own conscience. A serious decision with serious consequences. And you still bear the marks of those consequences, visible to the naked eye. Now you have made another such decision, with perhaps even more far-reaching consequences. And those may scar you in ways that are not visible on the outside - but could be even more profound.”

Sarin sighed and closed his eyes. “How well you know me.”

She gently ran her left hand over his back, her fingers tracing one of the faded welts from his shoulder to his lower ribs. “Nothing could come between us back then, khaladi. And so it will be today.”

Sarin placed his hand on hers and squeezed it gently. “I have qualms, Faith,” he said. “About going too far. About doing something I can't unhappen.”

She shook her head. “You're following your heart and your conscience. And I'll be by your side, no matter what happens. We'll get through this together, as always.”

Sarin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt Faith's words giving him strength. She had always been able to give him hope and confidence. Sometimes he didn't know what he had done to deserve having her by his side. But he didn't question it, gently pulling her into his arms instead. “Thank you, Faith. I don't know what I would do without you.”

She stood up on tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. “I'm always here for you, khaladi. Now come on - the children are waiting for their story.”

She winked at him and he had to smile. Yes, as much chaos as the younger ones were probably causing the common room right now, it would definitely distract him. “What do they want to hear?” he asked as he slipped into his shirt again.

“The Dabus' Lost Socks,” Faith replied with an innocent smile.

Sarin rolled his eyes. “Seriously? Amarys wanted that story, right?” He buttoned his shirt. “I know your mother gave the children this book, but between you and me, I think it's terrible.”

“Me too, khaladi.” Faith laughed heartily. “That's why you get to read it now.”

He walked to the door with an exaggerated sigh, but deep down, he wished for being able to read his children many more bedtime stories in the future - even if it was the Dabus' Socks nonsense. Tomorrow would tell …