![]() ![]() It had been embedded in a cobble, like a stone pressed into hot wax. “Whatever.” I bent to the icon and dusted the debris away from it. “We know the rites of infection, my lady.” The inspector sniffed and waved a hand at some of his fellow whiteshirts. You'll need to keep the rest out of the general population until you can confirm they were not infected.” “One of them found it, but swears it did not reach his skin.” I holstered my revolver and looked back nervously toward the pack of Scholars at the far corner of the square. “Is there any doubt now that the Betrayer was involved?” the inspector whispered at my side. No wonder they had the Amonites so tightly reined. It was a pendant, silver clasping the gnarled blade of that darkest aspect of our darkest god. Amon, in his aspect as murderer and assassin. This was not his symbol, not a symbol of Morgan or of Alexander or any of the other minor sects dedicated to inchoate powers of significant events or famous battles. The Fratriarch jangled with the icons of the holy Brother. There is a holy symmetry to my symbols, brought to arcane life by the power of Morgan. An iron fist pendant at my neck, the bound copper wire around my wrist, tattoos on my chest and legs. But I wear others, noetic symbols of the power of Morgan. My armor is an icon, as are my sword and revolver. We all wear icons, the scions of the three Cults of the Brothers Immortal. And among the shards of stone was an icon, torn from someone's ceremonial robe. ![]() The Amonites had been clearing it out, from the looks of things. The cobblestones here had been pulverized but left in place, like a giant cube of ice crushed in a bowl. The sides of the crater were charred, and most of the indentation was filled in with rubble. This hole could have come from something the coldmen had done while they tried to get to Barnabas and the girl. Close to the tracks, but not where I had engaged the two burn-pack soldiers. I didn't remember it from the fight-at least, I didn't remember doing anything dramatic in this particular spot. ![]() “Nothing, huh? That would be in line with the rest of your findings.” I reached the crowd of whiteshirts who had gathered around the crater and muscled my way through. How long did the Fratriarch have? “What did you find?” There were a number of craters in the ground, all of them from my fight yesterday. “We don't know the full extent of its power, my lady, and think caution is best.” Then he put a hand on my shoulder as I passed him and, eventually, hurried after me as I closed on the crater. The investigator in charge, a bald-headed, frail, middle-aged man in an impeccable Alexian robe, waved me to a stop. It didn't help when I boomed down the tracks, glory wicking off my boots as I leapt to the ground in full combat gear. There was a yellow tape barrier around the crash site, lined with a handful of curious passersby, though more were gathering as the search team became increasingly agitated. The Amonites were fully leashed, lurking unhappily behind their Alexian master on the far side of the square. They were gathered around a crater in the ground. ![]()
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