Chapter 13: The Black Cathedral | page 1

“The cost of war is not measured in blood alone.”

- Xui the Stormborne, Ixthian priestess (288 MA)

More than a week of mooring and food in Gharib bit deeply into Tiberius’ funds. Xia worried about it over meals. Most of that color would be needed to pay for Vyron when he arrived on Stray according to the instruction of their anonymous bounty posting. The first payment would leave their accounts on Axis practically empty, she pointed out. Tiberius only shrugged at dinner each evening and asked if anyone had heard word of the next Church of Nihil gathering. It was taking longer than expected.

One evening, Duaal nodded in response to the captain’s question. “I heard around the bazaar today that the pastor of that black cathedral is back in Gharib tonight and going to give a speech,” he said.

Duaal had been going out to the great central market every day and coming back with nothing. Gripper wondered what he was up to. When he returned, Duaal always seemed both relieved and frustrated.

Was he chasing a man? Sometimes he caught Duaal staring at Maeve, but he didn’t think he was seeing her. Someone else. Maybe that Arcadian guy, Anthem? Alliance race mating rituals seemed strange and exasperating to the Arboran. It wasn’t for lack of trying to understand. He glanced sidelong at Xia, but Tiberius demanded his attention once more.

“Anandrou, are you done with the recyc’ repairs?” the captain asked.

“Days ago, Claws,” Gripper reminded him and grinned. “Does that mean I can go outside and play? Oh, please, may I?”

“This isn’t a game,” Tiberius said. “You’ll go with Xia and Maeve tonight.”

Gripper scratched his heavy-boned cheek with a massive claw, wondering if the Prian’s sense of humor needed to be patched up, too, or if it had never been installed. He looked around the table. Maeve was looking at him. Her expression was sad and angry, but distant. Whatever made her eyes that stormy, it was not in there in the same room with her. Duaal was not laughing, either. Whoever sold humor packages, Gripper hoped they sold in bulk.

Kessa and Xia were smiling at him. The Dailon gave Xia a knowing look, then dissolved into gales of girlish laughter. At least they thought he was funny. Gripper smirked, flushed and looked down at his dinner.