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“I have known that man for over six hundred years,” Osiris said quietly to Eris as they walked behind Lord Saladin through the crowd.
“I know,” Eris said, avoiding eye contact with people they passed by.
Their path took them through a display of around a dozen ice sculptures by various artists, many of them life-sized. Depictions included guardians in various forms performing feats using the Light: a Nightstalker Hunter, bow drawn, cape wafting in invisible wind; a Warlock on one knee, their Dawnblade thrust into the ground, healing tongues of flame carved in ice licking around their Well of Radiance; a Striker Titan, beautifully depicted, fist extended, diving down at an angle into the ground, Arc energy lightning bolts made of of ice sprung up at jagged angles from the point of impact of their Thundercrash.
There were also sculptures of Cabal and Eliksni formed in perfectly chiseled ice. Eris was unable to see the finer details with her stolen eyes from this far away but, because she could perceive Light and because the figures were illuminated from below, she was able to make out many of the edges as they glittered in the evening air. The Eliksni Captain with six Arc blades looked especially intricate. Eris wondered if the illumination was in different colours for aesthetic effect. Likely. If Drifter were with her now he would absolutely have been describing them for her in detail with his own additional commentary. Eris almost asked Osiris to sate her curiosity but decided she would only be disappointed by his lack of Drifter's unique dramatic flair. Eris preferred to wait until later when her companion could enhance and share the experience with her.
What Eris really wanted to do was touch the ice sculptures and allow their full artistry to be perceptible to her through her fingertips. Undoubtedly a forbidden activity. They had walked past signs she had not read posted near the exhibit which surely forbade this very activity. If everyone were allowed tactile exploration with human skin which, for most, retained a temperature warm enough to melt the medium of depiction, the details would not long remain.
Eris smirked to herself as a thought immediately entered her brain: Drifter would revel in finding a clandestine method to allow her to explore the statues via touch. All she need do is ask. He would laugh and conspire with her and it would give him intense glee. The combination of doing something for her pleasure with flaunting established rules would be a lure he would find irresistible.
Yes. She would ask him to visit them later and assist her in pursuing unsanctioned not-Vanguard-approved activities for the sake of art appreciation and their combined enjoyment. "Two peas in a pod," he liked to say. They absolutely did both have "issues with authority." Eris had to stop a small chuckle from leaving her lips at the delight she felt regarding their impending transgressions.
“Did Drifter tell you how he and I first met, by chance?”
Eris' attention snapped back to the man walking with her behind Saladin. How long had she been lost in thought at contravening the rules with her roguish lover?
“He did.” Eris answered, understanding the implied question buried within Osiris' query. She gave the former Warlock what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She had no concerns regarding anything from the past.
Osiris nodded, the feathers in his collar shifting in the air as they walked. Despite the formality of the event and the lack of armour, he'd still managed to keep his plumage. “You should both come over for dinner some time,” he added.
“Hmmm… Perhaps we could bring dinner to you," Eris offered. "He is an amazing cook.”
In the far wall, wreathing a staircase leading up to a door was a large ice sculpture of an Ahamkara. It was positioned so that its body and tail wrapped around the arch above the doors with its open mouth biting toward the entrance. The lights from the Gala glinted off of its numerous ice-carved scales.
“I remember now," Osiris said as snowflakes drifted down gently. "The food at his bar was always very good. Especially the bread.”
“Sourdough.”
“Yes.”
Saladin led the way through the draconic doorway and together Eris and Osiris followed. They trailed the Iron lord down a short corridor, up a staircase and then through another doorway guarded by two Cabal Phalanxes who saluted as they passed by.
“He has introduced me to his sourdough starter," Eris explained quietly. "It is a living thing. He feeds it and takes pieces of it to make bread. It lives in a jar. He named it… Karl.”
Osiris’ eyes smiled at Eris above a plethora of feathers lightly dusted in snow.
“I will talk with Saint," Osiris said, "and we will find a good time for yourself, Drifter and Karl to visit us.”
Lord Saladin brought them to a room which opened near the dais where Ikora, Zavala, Mithrax, and Caiatl were seated. He handed Eris the book she had brought. She frowned and immediately began unwrapping and re-wrapping it properly on a nearby storage crate.
He handed Osiris a box which made an odd trilling sound. Eris cocked her head from the other side of the room, a red velvet string from a talisman half-extended around the book cover.
“A Pouka?” she asked without looking.
Osiris turned. “Yes. You have been to Neomuna?”
“Elizabeth Bray is accompanied by one. It is named Fish.”
“Fascinating. Does it travel through time with her?”
“I am not certain. She and I are… not currently on speaking terms.”
“Ah yes, I heard about that. One would think that since your return to humanity from godhood that would no longer be a concern.”
“One would think so, yes.” Eris continued to wrap the book properly in her charms.
“Are you both ready?” Lord Saladin asked them.
“I am.” Osiris answered after petting the Pouka and coaxing it back into its box. “Eris?”
“Yes.” She clutched her book against herself with both arms.
“When you approach the empress, to present your gift, go down on one knee, your left, and wait for her to acknowledge you. Tell her the nature of your gift and hold it in your hands for her or myself to take, then remain to receive your gift. Once your gift is received, stand, bow, and return to this room. Understood?”
Both nodded.
“Osiris, you are first.” Lord Saladin opened the door and placed his back against it as Osiris walked toward the dais.
“Please wait here, Eris.” Saladin pointed to just inside the doorway.
Eris stiffly complied.
As Osiris approached the Empress, Saladin looked at Eris.
“Are you going to stare at me the entire time we are waiting?” she asked.
“Why the Drifter?”
She tilted her head. “Why not?”
“I have never known him to behave the way he behaves with you.”
“You have never known him. At all.”
“He has always hated me.”
“I know. And I know why. But he is not filled with hatred now. Perhaps you could extend him the same courtesy.”
“Perhaps. Is he always like that with you?”
“Like what? Attentive? Affectionate? Caring?”
“Yes.”
Eris glared at him. “Yes.”
The Iron Lord briefly looked away. “I didn’t think he could love anyone.”
“Neither did he.”
Saladin nodded.
Osiris returned to the room holding a glittering dodecahedron the size of an engram in his hands.
“What is it?” Eris asked, craning her neck as he walked by to get a better view of the object.
“A map, I… think. I will need to examine it more thoroughly with Ikora. If you wish, you may attend our investigation as well.”
“Yes.”
“Eris, your turn.” Saladin gestured through the door.
Eris took a deep breath and stepped out toward the dais.
The music had stopped. Eris' three Hive eyes perceived the Light from hundreds of bodies gathered on the rooftop. She felt all eyes upon her as she approached.
Whispers from the Darkness clawed at the back of her mind. Snippets of anxious thoughts slithered through. They are staring. They are repulsed. She is monstrous. They are gawking. She is here to be ridiculed. The respect shown to her is mockery. Eris the lost. Eris the last. Eris who should have died.
No. Eris silenced the whispers with a soft hiss and did as the Drifter recommended. She thought of the brightness of the spray of blood glittering through the air before it fell to the ground when she slit Savathun's throat. She felt, once more, her vindication. And then she thought of Drifter, of his warm hands and his complete trust in her. She could not see him in the crowd but he was there. She could hear him in her mind saying "Trust."
She looked for and perceived Ikora, Zavala, Mara. Friends who still lived. Friends who cared.
One criteria Eris had insisted upon for the dress Drifter had helped her find was that it be something that did not restrict her movement. This was an attribute Eris was grateful for as she genuflected before the empress. While not as heavy and concealing of her body as the cloak she had worn overtop of the dress, the green silk scarf Drifter had very competently wrapped around her head and upper body was a great comfort to her and Eris once more found herself deeply appreciative of her companion's thoughtfulness, understanding, and foresight in bringing it. He'd obtained it with the dress thinking it would be a tasteful wrap to add "a splash of colour" but they had chosen to abandon it once they had found the cloak.
His care in choosing to bring it and the solace it provided her in her otherwise awkward and exposed position were at the forefront of her mind as she waited for what seemed an excessively long time, but was probably only a few moments, for the empress to acknowledge her.
Empress Caiatl held out her large hand.
“Rise, Eris Morn. Do not kneel to me. I owe you much.”
Eris reached out and took the Cabal Empress' finger in her hand, coming to her feet in front of her. The empress dwarfed Eris, even though she was seated and Eris was standing.
“Empress," she intoned. "I have brought you a gift.”
Caital looked warily at the book in Eris’ hands.
“I know you do not trust Hive magic, nor should you," Eris began. "It is vile and malevolent. However, I believe this will be of use to you. It is written by my hand and, while it is a book about Hive magic, its pages contain knowledge of how to… break it."
The empress grunted.
"It is filled with methods of disruption," Eris continued, "protective charms, effective ways of altering the meaning of runes to undermine their potency, how to disable traps, bypass locks, and invert portals. It is as much a weapon as any sword. I give you this knowledge I have gathered that your people may defend themselves with it and gain vengeance for what has been taken from them.”
Caital stood, towering over Eris as she held out the book. The empress received the tome in shaking hands and handed it to Saladin, who had appeared beside them. Then she took Eris’ small human hands in her own.
“Thank you. This is a priceless gift for the knowledge within it comes at a cost no one should ever have to bear. You have the tenacity of the Cabal within you, Eris Morn, despite your small soft form. The strength of your will is like that of the heroes of the old stories. I admire you and I am honoured to call you friend.”
Eris bowed her head, and then, hoping the Drifter's sense of Cabal humour was accurate, she added, "I was told that you might also appreciate knowledge of the binding materials, for the book is constructed of Hive leather. Each page is from a different individual I, myself, have killed."
The empress' eyes went wide and she sucked in a breath. Eris was briefly overcome with panic as the Cabal woman's hands squeezed her own small fingers tightly.
Then the empress threw her tusked head back and laughed. A moment later all the other Cabal around her laughed as well. Eris briefly closed her three eyes and reopened them, breathing more easily as she did so. The empress still held her hands.
"On Torobatl," Caiatl said, "my father had a great hall filled with trophies, dead beasts my people had bested, relics from worlds we had conquered and brought to heel. They inspired great pride but they were, all of them, symbols of conquest. When we retake our home, we will build a new trophy hall. But within it will not be items taken by force from the unwilling. No. It will be filled with far greater treasures. Instead of things we have stolen, it will be filled with gifts and tributes given willingly from those we have liberated from their oppressors and those who stand beside us as allies. Instead of conquest it will celebrate friendship and solidarity. We will build a new empire based in honour and dignity, not just strength, celebrating bonds formed both in battle and in peace. This book you have made for us will have a place of reverence there. My dear, wise friend."
"Thank you, Empress," Eris said. "I hope to see it in person one day."
"Yes!" Caiatl let go of Eris’ hands. “But first, here and now, I have a gift for you.” The empress reached with both her hands to the side as Saladin handed her something… something that made a soft whimpering sound.
Caiatl leaned forward with a writhing mass in her hands. Eris raised her own gloved hands to receive it, confused.
It was the size of a small bear and covered in long flexible spines. It whimpered and squirmed in Eris' arms.
“Cabal War Beasts are loyal to their handlers and attuned to their emotions," Caiatl said. "This one was weaned today. It is yours now. You will raise it and it will die with honour protecting you. Only someone with a strong will can raise a War Beast. Until now no War Beast has been given to someone who is not Cabal. But you, Eris Morn, you are worthy.”
Eris stared at the animal squirming in her hands and tried to hold in a way that it would be comfortable.
Caiatl clasped her shoulder. “Thank you, Eris. For everything. Happy Dawning.”
“Happy Dawning, Empress.” Eris said, trying not to drop the beast as it writhed.
Caiatl nodded and sat down. Lord Saladin appeared at Eris’ elbow and gestured back to the room they had come from. Once inside he pointed to a box where she could place the beast and gave her a small set of papers.
“Instructions on how to care for it. Included is contact information for my direct line. Let me know if you need anything. It is imperative that the animal be well cared for and trained. It would be a grievous insult if it were to die in any manner other than in battle. If you encounter the slightest problem, you must let me know so that we can avoid anything which might damage the relationship between the Vanguard and the Cabal.”
“I understand,” Eris said stiffly. “This is less a gift and more of a liability.”
“You grasp the severity of the situation.”
“It would have been nice to have been warned.”
“The empress insisted it be a surprise.”
“I see.”
“If you let it put its paws on your shoulder and support its rear, it’s easier to carry.”
Eris sighed, picking up and holding the War Beast puppy as directed. She stiffened and her three eyes flared as the beast licked the paracausal tears from her cheek.
“No,” she said firmly.
It stopped licking her and rested its head meekly on her shoulder.
“Good. They respond well to clear firm direction.” Saladin said.
A small smile quirked at the corner of Eris’ lips.
“It is hungry,” she said.
“Yes. It will need to eat from your bare hands and only you should feed it.”
“And what happens if someone else does?”
“It may bond to them as well and become confused. A confused War Beast is a liability. They need to know who is in charge at all times.”
“Hmmm…”
“It is not a puppy, Eris. It is a living weapon.”
Eris' three eyes flashed again. “So am I."
Lord Saladin grunted and nodded in respect.
“I should feed it now,” she continued.
“Yes. Come this way.”