Gabriel's Ghost (31 page)

her budget. I also wasn’t far off in my initial appraisal of her. She was Marsh’s aunt. “Verno ran into a friend. He’ll be here,” Dorsie said. “How’s Pops?” “Not growing any new hair.” “He have answers?” “Nothing we didn’t know.” She nodded, looked at me. “Meet Ilsa?” I nodded back. “Lovely young woman.” “Not sure what that means, Chaz. Did she or didn’t she try to scratch your eyes out?” I shot a glance to Sully. “No list, huh?” “Honest. None. Not a one.” He held his hands up. “List?” Dorsie asked as the droid returned with the pitcher and two tall glasses.

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“List of women. It was, um, a point of discussion between Ross,” I said, stressing his current name, “and myself.”

“Oh, Ilsa wanted to be on that list, real bad,” Dorsie said. She took another sip of ale. “Bet meeting Chaz here stopped that ambition.”

“Meeting my wife here stopped that ambition,” Sully said.

Dorsie’s lips hovered for a moment over the rim of her glass. “Hell’s fat ass. For a second there I thought you were serious. I thought you went and done it.”

Sully grinned. “Ilsa thinks I did. But don’t worry, Dorsie. You’ll get one of the first invitations to the wedding when they go out.”

Dorsie’s look switched to me.

I shook my head, turned my hands outward. “I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

Sully placed his fingers under my chin. “Did I forget to ask you, my angel?” He brushed my mouth with a kiss just as Dorsie raised her hand in the air.

“Verno! Over here.”

I pulled back from him and saw the tall Taka ducking under the low hanging lights, saw heads turn. Saw a woman following behind him, in Englarian sand-gray robes, her face almost covered by her hood.

“Sully-sir! Sorry to be late.” He put his hand on the woman’s arm, guided her in front of him. “Sister Berri’s been praying for you, since you left. Knew you wouldn’t mind if she came to see how the Abbot has answered her prayers.”

The woman’s lips turned up slightly in a sweet smile that would make a saint jealous. “It’s good to see you again. Truly, it is the blessings and providence of beloved Eng the Merciful that you are all safe.” She bowed her head slightly, then raised her eyes to me. “You must be the brave Captain Chasidah I have heard so much about. Blessings of the hour, my sister, blessings of the hour.”

Sister Berri Solaria. The inimitable Berri Solaria who Drogue had spoken so highly of, teacher of orphans whose life I’d worn for two days on Moabar Station. She was, I realized, everything I’d always thought an Englarian nun would be. Just a lot younger.

Her voice was gentle, melodic, sweet. Her face was thin, but delicate. She accepted the chair Verno held out for her, sat as if a cloud lowered her into it. She pushed her hood back. Her hair was a medium light brown, wound into a bun at the nape of her neck. Two wispy curls had escaped, trailed down the sides of her face.

She looked freshly scrubbed, innocent. Angelic, lacking only halo. I doubted she’d crossed her thirtieth birthday yet.

Sully rested his arm around the back of my chair, his fingers on my shoulder. “Sister Berri Solaria. Blessings of the hour. I didn’t know you were so concerned about us.”

“There’s not a moment you have left my thoughts and prayers these past few weeks, I assure you, Mister Sullivan. Not one moment.”

I felt Sully flinch and knew why: Sullivan. That was the name of a dead man, a ghost and not to be used, even in places like Dock Five.

“Sister,” he said but she’d leaned forward, her voice rising as she did so.

“I know that your appearance here again is truly a sign from the beloved Abbot.” She fixed Sully with an imploring gaze. “You must permit me to assist you, in this time of great peril. You must take me with you, to Marker!”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Sister Solaria. Please. This is not the place to discuss things like that.” Sully’s voice was firm, but kind. I relaxed because he did.

Verno angled his tall form into the seat next to Berri, put his large hand on her arm. He leaned toward her, his whispered words gravelly.

A pale pink rose on her cheeks. “Forgive me. Of course. In my fervor, I’m being indiscreet. I humbly ask your pardon.”

“We’ll discuss this later.” Sully reached for the pitcher. “Grab the droid and get us another glass if you can, Dorsie.”

Berri raised her index finger. “Oh, please, don’t go to any trouble. Brother Verno and I will share.”

Verno smiled. A Taka’s smile was thin lipped and showed lots of teeth, almost feral. Verno’s was clearly the besotted version of that.

I realized how much I didn’t know about Englarians. I based their use of ‘monk’ or ‘sister’ on the rather nebulous Celestialism most of the Empire followed. I vaguely thought that Englarian monks, like Celestial monks, were celibate. That was why Sully’s admission he’d studied to take the cloth so surprised me. Celibacy and Sully didn’t belong in the same sentence. But then, he’d only studied Englarian theology. Not actually become a monk.

And Ren, well, Ren was a Stolorth. I didn’t know if they followed the same rules as human monks. I knew very little of their culture, their rituals, other than what the Empire fed us. Which was, it appeared, mostly erroneous.

But Ren, celibate? I thought of the body outlined by the tight shirt and slim fatigue pants. What a waste if he was.

Sully’s voice was low in my ear. “That better be me you’re thinking about.”

Oh shit. Rainbows. I jabbed him with my elbow. “I’m a married woman. Behave.”

Dorsie asked Berri about Peyhar’s.

“We do have a small celebration here on Dock, for our brothers and sisters.” She glanced up at Verno. “I’d hoped, well, I’d thought Brother Verno was staying for that. Then next I heard, your ship had left. I, that is, we missed you, Brother.”

Verno finally drew his gaze from Berri’s. “I felt guided to accompany my ship. I hope you didn’t mind, Sully-sir.”

Sully-sir. Berri must have learned Sully’s identity from Verno. Drogue had also known, I remembered. Evidently it wasn’t a secret in the Englarian community.

“It’s always a help to have you on board,” Sully said.

Verno was almost tireless, like most Takas. Double shifts were his usual mode. I could have used him on the
Meritorious
. But Takas weren’t permitted to serve in the Imperial Fleet, other than as security guards on starports. And there was no
Meritorious
for me to command any longer. I pushed away that small heartache.

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We finished the pitcher, ordered another. Talked about life on the rim, about ore-miners and jump-jockeys, the main populace of Dock Five. About pubs that had been here forever, about pubs that lasted a week, and closed. About a barge that had had a systems foul-up and rammed the Dock instead of pulling away two weeks ago. For a moment that peaked my interest. But it turned out the pilot was more fouled-up than the systems. Honeylace.

We finished the second pitcher and stood. Dorsie needed to head back, with supplies due in. Sister Berri touched my arm. “I would be honored to show you our small temple.”

I caught Sully’s slight nod. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

“Drogue sends his blessings,” Sully added as we emerged into the corridor.

“Guardian Drogue. A hardworking man, dedicated to the church. He’s out at Moabar now, I hear. I didn’t realize you knew him.”

“I met him, many years ago, at Cal’fedar.”

“Cal’fedar. Ah, yes, he ran the Purity Project. Did you work on a supply ship in Dafir?”

“I trained under Drogue, as a novitiate.”

“You aspired to take the robe?” Berri regarded him in undisguised surprise that mirrored my own, earlier.

“Yes.”

We were still walking along B.L. 4, heading toward the Tower, the taller portion of the Dock. Sully’s admission had clearly startled Berri. She stopped walking, seemed to realize she shouldn’t have, and quickened her steps. “Well. Praise the stars. Do you ever regret not taking the robe?”

“There have been times I regret renouncing it. Though not lately,” he added.

This time I was shocked. I’d assumed by what he said earlier he’d studied, but never taken his vows. Never become a real pray-every-day member of the clergy.

“Close your mouth, Chaz.” He grabbed my neck in an affectionate headlock, kissed the top of my head.

Berri appeared equally as flustered, saying nothing until we stopped at the next bank of lifts. As usual, the lines were long. “Verno never told me you took the robe. Would you mind if I ask what name you took?”

“Sudral.”

Berri’s eyes brightened. “The name of the Immaculate Cloak. That which bound the winged demons, nullified their vile energies. Excellent choice. That shall be the subject of my meditation tonight. Thank you, Brother.”

We stepped into the lift with Berri blessing everyone left and right.

* * *

The Temple was about the size of the one on Moabar, but round, rather than square. No services were underway. A few Takans, and several humans, I noted with surprise, sat silently, in meditation. Cloying incense that I remembered well drifted from two burners dangling from the ceiling.

The raised platform was curved, with the same back-lit arch-and-stave on the wall behind it. A series of small paintings ran down the left wall. I followed Berri.

She stopped at the first painting, touched my elbow, whispered. “Here, of course, is the beloved Abbot, in meditation to the stars. And this next one shows his first battle with a soul-

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stealer, in the sacred Valley of the Tunnels.” A few more steps and a painting similar to the one in Moabar. The winged demon with the stave impaled in his back. This one’s face was upturned, though, and had an uncanny resemblance to a screaming jukor.

“This last shows the purity process.”

Another soul-stealer, kneeling, back arched, wings drooping, and the Abbot’s shimmering silver cloak partially draped over his form. The long sword in the Abbot’s grip was just about to connect with the demon’s neck.

“That looks like beheading, not purity.”

“Of course.” Berri’s gaze was serene. “The only way to purify the vileness is to disconnect the creatures’ filthy minds from their bodies while they are in their true form. The cloak, you see, constrains their shape-shifting powers. The holy sword, the boru karn, completes the process.”

Sully was talking to Verno at the entrance to the Temple. So he didn’t hear Berri’s words, didn’t see me hesitate, lose my step, almost as she had earlier.

Boru karn. The Abbot’s holy sword of purity. Sudral. The Abbot’s holy cloak of purity.

And a poet mercenary pirate smuggler lover monk. Who was also a
Ragkiril
.

I didn’t need any more questions right now. But they hovered again, beating their wings like little frenzied demons in my brain.

* * *

It wasn’t the fifteen minutes of Berri’s impassioned pleadings in the Temple office that swayed Sully into agreeing she could come with us to Marker. It was the fact she was going there, anyway. Legitimately. Englarians were opening a Temple in Marker to service the Takan shipyard workers.

“Providential,” Verno said, grinning.

We could toss our plans for a surreptitious infiltration of the Fleet yards. We could walk in, unchallenged, bearing the arch-and-stave.

“I’m surprised Drogue didn’t mention the new Temple,” Sully commented to her.

“Not surprising at all. The Marker Temple has been my project now for almost two years. But it’s in-system, under Guardian Lon. Moabar operates under our out-system venue.”

“Sister Berri’s done much fundraising, has been very dedicated,” Verno added. “I’d always heard of the wonderful Sister Berri Solaria. But until we met, six months ago, I didn’t understand how very hard she’s worked for this.”

“The Abbot guides me in his mercy, in all that I do,” she said sedately. But she blushed.

Verno stayed behind to help Berri finish her duties. Sully wanted to spend a few more hours on Dock, then head out. He never spent more than ten hours, he told me as we headed for the lifts, in any one stationary location, unless his ship was in for repairs. We’d already been on Dock for six.

“Escalator?” he asked, seeing the lines.

I nodded, walked silently for a few steps, waiting for the crowd around us to pass. Pedestrian traffic on Dock seemed to come and go in groups.

A cluster of female techs passed us by, but not without a few blatantly appreciative stares at Sully.

He grinned when I looked back at him. He’d seen the women, and me watching them. No doubt he as well saw, and felt, my frown.

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“Sully...”

“Umm?”

“How long were you a monk?”

A few more steps, and he was still grinning. “This surprises you, doesn’t it?”

He knew damn well it did. He just wanted to hear me admit it. “I know you. Intimately. So yes.” I paused. “How long?”

“Eight years, three months. Do you want weeks, days?” He asked the question over his shoulder, turning, because I’d stopped in the middle of the corridor.

“Eight years.”

“Eight years, three months.” He thought for a moment. “Two weeks, four days? Or was it three weeks, four days?”

“If you’re lying to me about this—”

“I never lie.”

No. He just told me bits and pieces. “Why didn’t you tell me before this?”

He stepped closer. “I’m not exactly comfortable with much of my past. I think you know that,” he said softly. “Plus, I didn’t think it was important.”

“It’s not.” We started walking again. “It’s just that I sometimes wonder if I’m ever going to figure you out.”

“I hope not,” he said with a wicked Sully-grin. He took my hand and sent spirals of warmth up my arm.

We went to a pub on B.L. 2. A long, narrow bar with, I was surprised to see, a Stolorth male behind it. He had bright, clear, silver eyes. In spite of everything I knew about Ren, about
Ragkirils
, a shudder went up my spine.

Sully motioned me to a barstool then took the one next to mine, unlatching it from the deck lock. He pulled his close, draping his arm over my shoulder.