A well-placed fist had silenced the still living cultist. The other had bled out, so Aleks disposed off him through the viewing window, his carcass disappearing into the forest below. There was little he could do about the blood that now decorated the hallway, so he’d had simply dragged the larger man’s unconscious form to the window, depositing it onto a small stone ledge a few feet beneath. Whatever magic guarded the city from the roar of the wind outside would mask the man’s screams as Aleks worked him for information.

It was ugly business, and not something Aleks took pride in. But it was part of the job, and a necessity in this case. If he was going to kill a living god, he’d need whatever information he could get.

The wind was surprisingly calm when he dropped from the lip of the window. The valley below was still—almost haunting in the silver moonlight. Donning his mask, Aleks chanced a look upward, pinpointing the thousand dark holes that marked viewing windows. Shadow retreated from his sight, casting the mountain in an ethereal glow. He spotted hundreds of people loitering about the various windows, but the shadow of the mountain was thick, and the night would cloak him well.

Rolling up his sleeves, he turned to the unconscious man laying still as the night, propped up against the mountain. Aleks pulled his dagger from his belt and focused on the pulse of the mask once more. Unsightly work, this. He’d need a clear mind to keep himself on task.

* * *

“Kill me,” the large man slurred through swollen lips. “Is your only choice. Won’t break me. Can’t.”

Aleks scowled beneath his mask, his brow furrowed. “You’re certainly more stubborn than I’d expected, Filip, I’ll give you that.” The man’s name had been one of the few things Aleks had managed to extract in the hours spent together.

“Ain’t got nothing to do with it,” he spat. “Not stubborn. Just faithful. With Him, I know I’ll be fine. Hurt me all you like, ya bastard. Won’t give you nothing!”

He was stronger than Aleks had hoped. Though he hated the work, and gods knew it wasn’t his forte, he’d been very intentional in his… Interrogation. Dark blood glittered silver in the moonlight on the mountainside. Plucked fingernails, discarded fingers cut fine and other small and unnecessary digits lay in a mangled heap beside Filip. But all to no end.

Besides his name, Aleks had only discovered facets of the Sons of Inan’s beliefs that were previously shrouded in mystery. The fate of disbelievers, the rewards for the faithful and the supposed power this Nereden claimed to wield. Portions of scripture that sounded familiar to Aleks before he realised—this was little more than a corruption of Altilism, a millennia old faith from the north.

But none of that was of any use. He needed to know where this Nereden slept—if he slept—and what kind of guard watched him. No doubt it would be more secure than the setup the Emperor had had, especially now they knew Aleks was here.

Scratching at his beard beneath the mask, Aleks knelt beside Filip. “I killed your Emperor. Thought that would be enough to break your little cult.” He sighed. “Apparently not. But if this Nereden is as powerful as you say, he’d have nothing to fear from me.”

Filip grinned up at him through bloody teeth. “‘Course not. But if I betray Him, he’ll know. Can’t be doing that, can I?”

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Aleks suppressed a frustrated groan. There was an obvious answer to all of this. Nereden had sent Filip and his companion because he’d wanted to see Aleks. He could simply follow the large man—broken as he was—and meet this god face to face. But he was not one to take unnecessary risks. If Filip would not give him the information he needed, he’d just have to find it himself.

“Is your faith really worth your life?”

“Silly question, boy. It’s faith.” Filip shook his head and winced. “My belief gives him strength. Gives me strength. You seen it. I feel it. That’s enough.”

Aleks shook his head slowly. He’d wanted to avoid loss of life wherever possible. But he’d already gone too far, and leaving Filip like this would be crueler than killing him. What would his wife—or his daughter—think of what he’d just done? He sighed. What a waste. He grit his teeth—nothing left to do now but end it. “A shame,” he murmured after a long moment, picking up his dagger. “I hope whatever he promised you follows, Sir Filip. Farewell.”

Filip smiled, seeming almost peaceful as Aleks dragged his knife across the larger man’s throat. His breath rasped and shook, blood spilling forth over the silver chain and pin that marked his faith. And then he was still.

Aleks took a quiet moment, looking up toward the twinkling lights of Wiernock’s thousand windows. The city was the center of a corruption that threatened to spread throughout Ogien, and if Nereden’s words held any weight, even further. Aleks would need to stop it here. And if that cost lives, then that was a weight he’d have to live with.

He moved to rise to his feet before his eyes found Filip once more. Glittering softly in the night, stained red with blood, was the amulet that marked the faithful. If Aleks was going to get anything done without being spotted, he’d need to blend in. And he remembered a moment above, in the fight with Filip, where the amulet had seemed to glow. Perhaps this held some answers.

He pulled a pair of thin gloves from a pouch at his waist, the leather creaking as he pulled them on. Aleks did not know what power this amulet held and what effect it could have on him should he don it. Another risk not worth taking. He lifted the thin silver chain from around Filip’s neck, and held it up to the moonlight, studying the metal.

Pure silver, it seemed, though his eye was untrained. No power ran through it, no strength flooded his body and there was no smoke drifting from it as it had with Filip earlier. Jaw clenched, he pulled one glove off with his teeth and extended one unprotected, probing finger toward the chain. He braced himself, uncertain what to expect, but it was disappointing.

Cool to the touch, the amulet seemed nothing special. Just a simple chain with a pin dangling from its nadir. The pin seemed different to those the other faithful had been sporting; it was slightly longer, and the base was twisted before extending to its point. A small difference, perhaps, but in cults like these, Aleks had come to know small differences meant a lot. A different rank, perhaps?

Aleks ran the chain through his hands and grunted to himself. He’d expected to feel something, like the soul-bonded amulets of Saadinah. But it was little more than another chain.

Aleks hesitated only a moment longer before shaking his head and draping the chain over his neck. It glimmered over his chest, twisted pin hanging between the folds of his black cloak. But again, there was no indication of the pendant being anything more than a decoration.

Touching one hand to the bracelet at his wrist, Aleks looked back down to Filip’s still form. If the pendant had anything to do with a rank within the Sons, there was a chance that the man’s clothes, too, would set him apart from other believers. A simple black cloak, furred at the collar, that Aleks had discarded earlier lay beside Filip. Beneath, he wore simple silken clothes, Ogien-made and bearing no decoration.

To be safe, Aleks discarded his own cloak and placed the large man’s dark one over his own finery. It was a bit long, but not enough to draw the eye. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of changing his face, but eventually shook his head. The mask required a steep price paid for using that particular power, and it was not one Aleks would pay lightly.

Disguise set, Aleks pushed Filip’s body over the ledge, disappearing quietly into the foliage beneath. Then he set his eyes upward—venturing any further up the city, especially at this hour, was ripe with risk. He’d one card left to play before he took that. Time to see what the remaining Court had to offer.