Splinter Angel

Sixty-seven days. In sixty-seven days the cycle would end, and Ana would have a window of a few days to leave the Splinter.

The wait was killing her.

It was the looks, mostly. Everybody looked at her, anywhere she went in the outpost. Nobody didn't have an opinion or an attitude toward her. Respectful, adoring, worshipful, lustful, simply curious or full of fear or hatred; everybody looked at her like they expected something from her. Like they expected her to do something. To manifest her wings and fly off, give an inspirational speech, or explode into sudden violence. And while most did their best to hide it, she could see their disappointment when she just kept walking. Like after all that she'd done, she was the one who owed them something.

It was insufferable.

It was also the reason that Ana spent most of her time with Messy. When they were at home, or in the back room of Master Renvi's shop, Ana was away from all those eyes. When they had to be out, such as while going to and from the baths or Ana's classes — she refused to cancel them, no matter how uncomfortable she got — Messy ran interference, encouraging gawkers to move along. And no matter where they were, or what they were doing, Messy anchored her. The care and affection that suffused Messy's aura whenever she looked at Ana made almost anything bearable.

But Messy wasn't with her now. Ana had asked Tellak to stay with her for an hour or two, and the Bulwark had readily agreed. This was something Ana had to do alone.

It was sixty-seven days until the cycle would end. There was nothing truly remarkable about that, but it felt like a long time to hide away, and she'd been putting this off for too long. Over a month, she realized. It had been over a month since the Battle of the White Obelisk, and in all that time she hadn't laid eyes on Karti. She hadn't felt ready. She hadn't trusted herself to. But she felt ready now.

She just didn't want Messy there in case it turned out that she wasn't as ready as she thought. Messy would try to stop her, and Ana didn't think she'd want to be stopped.

She was going to speak to Karti. She had to. He'd been interrogated, of course. Time and time again, by various people. By now they would've gotten anything out of him that he was likely to give up, and Pirta had freely offered to let Ana read every transcript and report. But Ana wanted to hear it from the man herself.

For less than three weeks, Ana had hoped that she might be able to live in relative comfort and obscurity, and Karti was the reason that had fallen apart the way it had. He was the reason she was a public figure, with no hope of any real, lasting peace for… gods only knew. She needed to know why. And now she was ready. She could think about him without her hands balling into fists. She trusted herself that she wouldn't fly into a frothing rage and finish what she'd started a month ago.

If she killed the bastard, it would be because she decided to. Not because she couldn't stop herself.

Karti was being held, along with all the other prisoners, at a stockade in the north-western part of the outpost. They were guarded day and night by both combat Classers and mages, and the entire improvised prison was surrounded by a large, mana-suppressing ritual circle to keep the many mages among them at bay.

The stockade was divided into three sections. The first held the cultists, those of Karti's group who'd survived the Battle of the White Obelisk and the march back to the outpost. The second held the traitors — those who'd supported Trilgayeri when she attempted to use Messy to murder Ana, as well as the three survivors of the attempted ambush and the Stolen they'd used to lure Ana out. The third, scaled for an elf, held Karti.

The guards at the street entrance, Sira the Peacekeeper and some Fighter Ana couldn't remember the name of, greeted Ana very differently.

The unnamed Fighter stood tall and barked an almost military, "Marshal Cole!" Ana suppressed a wince and acknowledged him with a nod.

Sira didn't move from where she stood, sheltering from the midday sun. She raised her hand in a lazy wave and just said, "Hey, Ana. Go right on in. Captain sent word ahead. And, ah… there won't be anyone in the tower watching you, okay? You'll have privacy. Please don't make me regret that."

"Appreciate it. And I'll try not to," Ana said, and passed through the gate into the Stockade proper.

Pirta had been reluctant to let Ana see their most high-profile prisoner, but Ana had convinced her that she had no plans to harm the man. Notably, she hadn't promised that she wouldn't, just that she didn't plan to. Just as notably, the highly competent elf hadn't asked her for such a promise.

Ana was sure that Pirta hadn't missed her wording any more than Ana had Pirta's omission. She wasn't sure what it meant, though. Pirta had left Ana alone with Karti after the Battle of the White Obelisk, and Ana had wondered over that, too.

She saw two possibilities. Either Pirta trusted Ana enough to put a valuable prisoner's life in her hands, or she was hoping that Ana would kill Karti when there was no one to intervene. Ana hoped that it was the former, but considering how heavily the revelation that Karti and the Lord of Order were behind all their troubles weighed on the captain, she wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter.

As Ana reached the edge of the circle, she 'paid her dues', as it had come to be called. It had become custom for any mage passing nearby, who wasn't part of the guard rotation, to detour inside and push as much mana as they could into the circle. It was a small token of appreciation, which took a little of the load off the guards. Ana felt that she'd done enough, really, but she also saw no reason not to help out when she was right there.

Besides, it wasn't like she'd be able to use any mana inside the circle. As she stepped over the line of runes carved into the stone plate under her feet, a wave of fatigue and nausea washed over her as her body was drained of all mana except the tiny trickle necessary to keep her alive. It wasn't completely intolerable, and she quickly adapted, but she doubted that she'd ever get used to it. The closest thing she could compare it to was when she'd been infected with the voidplague, when the crystals invading her body had drained her of mana to propagate themselves.

If she were capable of pity, she thought, she might have pitied the prisoners. As it was, the sensation just made her determined not to ever let herself be imprisoned like this.

The experience got worse the higher your Connection was. Thus, the guards inside the circle were all non-mages, who felt the ritual as little more than an odd tingle in the air. They led her to Karti's small section, opened the two gates, and let her inside, closing and barring both gates behind her. It seemed excessive to Ana — Karti hadn't shown any sign of having physical Attributes much higher than any other non-combat Classer — but she wasn't going to tell the captains their business. She'd made it very clear that it was not, under any circumstances, her circus.

The open-topped cell was simple. A bare patch of stone — no more than ten feet on a side, barely enough to pace — and a lean-to that kept the sun and rain off, but not much else. Inside the lean-to was a cot, long enough for an elf to stretch out. In the corner of the "yard" was a latrine bucket. On the cot sat Karti, watching her silently.

Ana approached him with the same wordless solemnity, stopping just outside the lean-to. Not quite in striking distance, but that didn't mean much. What Ana lacked in reach, she made up in speed.

Goddess, but he was tall. She hadn't really noticed when last she was close to him — she'd been mostly flying or straddling his chest at the time — but he must have had six inches on Pirta. Even sitting down he was two feet taller than Ana. Not that it stopped him from looking delightfully small as he subtly shied back from her.

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He'd healed admirably from the beating she'd given him. His face wasn't concave anymore, for one. The wonders of magic, Ana mused wryly, her face twisting into a sneer before she forced it back to neutrality.

If Karti noticed, he didn't show it.

"You shattered my life."

When Ana broke the silence her voice was calm and controlled, almost conversational. Despite that, Karti flinched almost imperceptibly. Almost.

"One of your followers reached into my world, grabbed Nicola Stamper, and dragged him through to here. And because you can't even vet your fucking minions properly, I came along! Imagine his surprise! Though he really wasn't interested in me. I've wondered about that, you know? He told the Cultists with him to do whatever they wanted with me."

And if she hadn't had her gun, she doubted she'd've been able to stop them. Not without her Class. Not with their Levels.

She had to pause as bile rose in her throat. But she saw the suppressed pain on Karti's face, the sign of some vestigial remains of his conscience, and she forced herself to continue rather than take a moment to steady herself.

"Nicola died. He wasn't a bad kid. Nineteen years old. He… maybe he could have lived. I don't know. I didn't know anything about magic or healing potions or anything. I just saw a traumatic brain injury. I couldn't care for him. I couldn't take him with me. So—"

"No," Karti whispered, almost pleading as his eyes filled with horror.

Ana plowed on without pause and without mercy, putting a shudder into her voice, as though she was forcing herself to speak about a trauma much deeper than it was. "I drove a dagger into his heart," she said. "Out of mercy." She spat the word, and Karti's eyes fell.

"I held the dagger, but Nicola's dead because of you. Him, and… I don't even know how many other people from my world. A thousand? Two? Three? It's hard to keep count when you're slaughtering them. And then, of course, there are the dozens of locals that your changelings and controlled demons killed. Can't forget about them."

She paused as Karti shrunk in on himself. Again, just a little. Almost imperceptibly. Almost. He couldn't look at her, but he was listening.

Ana had never thought of herself as cruel. She had actively avoided letting herself indulge in that particular vice; it was too tempting, and too satisfying. Too easy to make a habit of. But standing there, with the author of her misery broken before her — or at least his mortal agent — she couldn't stop herself. Ana had driven a blade of guilt into Karti's gut, and she twisted it without mercy.

"I have an Achievement now, thanks to you!" she said, almost cheerfully. "Death Dealer! It tells me that I've killed over a hundred sentient beings. Now, a few of those — six, I think — they were absolute shitbags who deserved it." She stopped, making a show of thinking about her words, then corrected herself. "No, you know what? Trig probably wouldn't have made me kill her if not for you and your fucking Lord of Order. She's on you, too. Anyway, the rest of those hundred plus people were entirely innocent! You made me, personally, kill over a hundred innocent people! So fuck you very much for that!"

"Is this necessary?" Karti whispered. He still couldn't look at Ana.

"What? Me, talking to you? Yes. Reminding you of your crimes and their monstrous consequences? Also yes! I need it, and you don't get a say in the matter. You gave up your rights to anything except a trial when you decided to kidnap people to kill a Splinter, and you have Pirta to thank for even that."

Karti didn't respond, and as gratifying as his misery was, there was something deeply unsatisfying about ranting at someone who just sat there and took it. Karti had been a cult leader — or something like it at least. He'd done the bidding of a malevolent shitstain of a god, causing death and suffering on the scale of a small war. And he didn't even try to defend himself. Where was his conviction, Ana wondered. Where was the fanaticism? Where was the desperate certainty she'd seen a month ago, that what he'd done was right? Why was all she got from him guilt?

It had taken Ana a month to prepare herself so she wouldn't do something irreversible the moment he defended his actions. How, then, dared he be remorseful of all things?

"Look at me," Ana said, failing to control her frustration. When he didn't react she repeated herself, putting all the Command and Charm and Intimidate that she could behind her words. And still, nothing. "I'm talking to you! I want to have a goddamn conversation! That's the least you can do, after what you've done to me."

Karti let out a bone-weary sigh, and finally looked up. When he met her eyes, he didn't freeze. They were a pale gray, almost silver — Ana hadn't noticed that before. She hadn't paid attention to his features at all, really, before or while she was demolishing them. Kind, she thought, and hated herself for it. His eyes look kind.

"What," he asked, with the gravity of a man who'd surrendered all hope, "do you want to converse about?"

"Why?" Ana hissed from between clenched teeth, and Karti flinched. The word was laced with so much pain and venom that Ana surprised even herself. Every moment of loss and every disappointed hope of the last three months condensed into that one syllable, and when it tore itself out of her it took her finely honed control with it. Her lips peeled back into a pained, teeth-bared scowl, and her eyes burned. Her hands twitched as though they couldn't decide whether to clench into fists or come up to cover her face. She wanted to cry. She wanted to run. She wanted to kill Karti, right then and there, but she also desperately wanted to hear his answer. She needed her life to have shattered for something resembling a rational reason.

"The Lord of Order commanded it," Karti replied. There was no superiority in it. No condescension, no righteousness, no zealous fervor. He was merely explaining. If anything, Karti both looked, and sounded, pained.

"Why you?" Ana asked, and just as she hadn't been able to hide her frustration or her pain, she couldn't hide her bafflement. "Why would you obey? You're suffering! You're racked with guilt! Why?!"

"When the Lord sends one of his Ascenders to relay a message, one obeys," Karti answered, in the same tone as before.

"Despite knowing what a monster it would make you?"

"Despite that," Karti confirmed miserably.

Ana hadn't ever truly had her mind blown before. Ana had spent so much energy on avoiding becoming a monster — or worse, being seen as one — that what Karti said just didn't compute. People did monstrous things all the time; that was just human — or sapient — nature. They did them out of anger, out of cruelty, or out of a belief that they were doing the right thing. But for Karti to sit here, full of guilt and grief, and tell her that he'd willingly set in motion the deaths of thousands, with a goal of killing uncountable others, in spite of his fully developed conscience clearly telling him not to…

"God, I can't tell if this is envy or disgust I'm feeling," Ana said hoarsely.

Karti's eyes dropped to somewhere between the two of them. "You should know that I don't regret any of the things I've done, other than my failure," he said. "But I regret their necessity, and the suffering they caused. If I could have accomplished my goals without harming a soul, no matter the cost to myself, I would have done so."

"Necessity." Ana dragged the word out. "There's the core issue. Why, exactly, is it necessary to murder everyone in the Splinters? And don't just tell me that they're destabilizing the Primes or whatever. I already got that from Saareng. Remember her? Lovely people you surrounded yourself with. You know she didn't express even a shred of guilt over all the people who died when she and that other guy attacked our camp?"

Karti kept staring at the ground.

"Guess not. Anyway, the Wayfarer tells me that the Lord of Order is a lying, spiteful sack of crap. But let's say for a moment that I… maybe not believe you, but that I'm open to being convinced. I'm no idealist. I prioritize my long-term happiness and survival above all else. So. You consider me your enemy. Your god considers me enough of a threat, even now, to send his zealots to attack my friends — to kill innocent people just to hurt me."

Karti flinched visibly at that, and Ana felt the savage urge to twist the knife again. But she might have an opportunity here to actually learn something, and in the back of her mind she felt the Wayfarer's presence. Not her voice — more like a sense of sharp interest.

So, instead of reminding Karti of the suffering he'd caused, and which clearly weighed on his conscience, she said, "If you want to eliminate a threat without murdering any more innocents, here's your chance. I'm listening. Convince me."