Toranna shivered within the ratty blanket. Though accustomed to the Mortuary’s chill, she was not bothered by the temperature of her vault-turned-cell. It was the memory of Skall which was icing her blood.
She had never been so cold as she’d been in the factol’s presence. He was neither alive nor dead; was he undead? No, Toranna thought, suppressing another tremble. He was something else entirely… a living thing who’d come to embrace True Death. Only his dedication to advancing his faction had kept Skall in the mortal world. She was not surprised that her infiltration of the Dustmen was something he’d want to investigate personally.
Toranna blessed the Black Sun for her liar’s tongue, for Skall was a merciless inquisitor. She’d laced her confession with just enough truth to sound convincing, but she hadn’t given him the whole story, and she made sure that he knew it. It had nothing to do with loyalty to the Illuminated – it was a desperate ploy to stay alive. Skall had surely seen right through it, but he’d indulged her anyway. The factol would kill her in the end; Toranna was also certain of that. All she could do was pray for a chance to escape in the meantime.
A key rasped into the lock. She hadn’t expected them back this soon! She gathered her wits as the door squeaked open, allowing an unfamiliar woman into the vault. Dressed in conventional Dustman black, the newcomer’s face was remarkably nondescript, if such a contradiction was possible.
“Hello, Toranna,” said the Dustman, and the Cyricist could not place her voice, either.
“Well met, I suppose,” Toranna replied. “Do I know you?”
“No.”
Just ‘no?’ Is that all? Toranna wondered. “Well, it’s a big faction,” she finally said.
“That’s got nothing to do with it. Truth be told, I’m even less of a Dustman than you are.”
Toranna stood up and approached the stranger, wishing she had any spells prepared. “Baltazo?”
The stranger laughed. “Would you be alive if I was? No, I’m not your master, although I, too, wear many faces.”
“But you know him.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve been seeking him, Toranna. To be more accurate, I’m seeking Baltazo’s master.”
Toranna scoffed, and said “Baltazo serves no master! Believe me, I would know.”
“You’re less perceptive than I’d hoped,” replied the stranger. “Still, perhaps you can lead me to him.”
“Perhaps,” Toranna sighed. “You must realize that I’ve fallen out of favor with the Great Eye.”
“Do you think anyone who hasn’t fallen would help me? Besides, as far as I can tell, everyone else who has fallen is dead.”
“All right, then. Do you have a plan for getting out of here?”
“Of course,” the stranger said. “The Mortuary is the most poorly-guarded of all the faction headquarters.”
Toranna followed the stranger to the door. “You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought. Who are you?”
“That doesn’t matter. I’m the woman who’s setting you free and putting a knife in your hand, with the understanding that you’ll slit Baltazo’s throat with it, given the chance.
“But if you have to call me something,” the stranger said, closing the door behind them, “call me Kalisa.”
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