Congregation

            Eris looked at the sign.  “This is an abode of dangerous heretics?”

            Razer checked the address.  “Apparently.”

            “This is a bookseller.”

            “I can read, too, girl.”

            “Do you believe the orders?”

            “Our job is to follow orders.”  Razer sighed.  “Besides, they could be carrying proscribed texts.  If they are, we’ll go in, confiscate them, and leave.”

            “You’re awfully confident about this, old man.”

            “I’m faking girl.  You don’t live as long as I have without expecting the worst.  But you also don’t live as long as I have without sounding like it doesn’t matter.”  He grinned.  “Stay alert.”

            Eris saluted.  “Yes, sir.”

            “And don’t be a smartass.”

            A bell rang as Razer opened the door.  The only light came in through the windows.  Bookcases sagging with books lined the walls.  The smell of dust and paper hung in the air.  Razer approached a counter opposite the door.

            A woman behind the counter smiled at him.  “Can I help you?”

            Razer smiled back.  “We’re looking for an almanac.  Quite rare.”

            The woman nodded.  “I have quite a few rare books.”

            “Old Franklin’s Original?”

            The woman’s eyes widened.  “Sir!  I’m afraid we do not carry texts that speak of Nerroth so.  You’ll need to look somewhere else.”

            Razer nodded.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to offend.”  He scanned the room.  His eyes lighted on a plain, but cared for Nerrofix over the threshold leading to the backrooms.  “Faith is needed in these times.”

            Eris looked up from a leaflet nailed to the doorjamb.  “You hold prayer meetings here?”

            The woman nodded.  “Yes.  There’s one tonight, in fact.”

            “Can we attend?  We’re travelling, and I don’t like the look of the main congregation.”

            The woman smiled.  “Of course.  The word of Nerroth is to be shared by everyone.”

            “What time?”

            “Seven.”

            “We’ll be here,” Razer said.  Once they were out the door, he turned to Eris and said, “That was good thinking, girl.”

            “Thanks, old man.  But she already knows who we are.”

            Razer nodded.  “I could sense her skill level, too.  She probably felt us like fingernails on a slate board.”

            “Knowing that much magic doesn’t prove you’re a heretic.  Or even dangerous.”

            “No.  But I’ll be packing that thing Desmond gave us anyways.”

            Eris glanced at him.  She turned away after a second.  “You’re probably right.”

            That night they returned to the bookseller.  The woman from the counter met them at the door a led them into the back, through a hallway, and into a large den cleared of all furniture but two rows of mix-matched chairs, a lectern, and a side table.  About ten other people stood in the room, most lingering at the side table and eating biscuits off a plate there.

            “We’ll be starting the reading soon,” the woman said.  “In the meantime help yourself to biscuits and wine.”

            “Thank you,” Razer said.  “Miss?”

            “I am Carla.”

            Razer smiled.  “I am Razer, and my friend is Eris.”

            Carla left a talked to a group of guests across the room.  As she did, the clump at the side table left and sat down.  Eris approached it and looked down.

            “Think it’s safe?”

            “I doubt she’d risk poisoning her congregation to get to us.”

            “I’m not hungry anyways.”

            “Neither am I.”

            Carla stepped up to the lectern and rang a small brass bell.  “Time to take your seats for the reading.  Please welcome newcomers Eris and Razer.”  Carla gestured towards them.

            People took their seats and waved quiet greetings to Eris and Razer.  The Witch Hunters returned them as they took seats in the back row near the exit.

            Once the room was silent, Carla opened a folio on the lectern.  “I managed to find an Ehrmanic Fragment, possibly an epistle, though it is difficult to determine since I only have the middle part.”  She cleared her throat and began reading in an approximation of the antique language of the document.

            Razer raised his eyebrows and whispered, “An Ehermanic Fragment.  They’re lucky if it’s genuine.”

            “What’s an Ehrmanic Fragment?”

            “You know Thebara in north Gondwana?  Shepherds there found a cave with several codices in jars, about a century ago.  They were taken to the Bartholomew Monastery, and there, the monk Ehrman translated them.  The original copies were destroyed when the Monastery was burned fifty years ago.  Now what few copies he made are all that are circulating, and they’re increasingly rare and incomplete.”

            “So?”

            “The codices were from an ancient subsect, Gnostics.  For them, the Word of Nerroth is the path to unlock the mysteries of the world, to find the secret knowledge of the true world.  They seek to honor Him through their search.  That’s how my master explained it to me, anyways.”

            Eris narrowed her eyes.  “I think I get it.  I hear it in the reading, too.”  She glanced at the others.  “Isn’t this heretical?”

            “Of course.  But the Hunter Codex classifies it as non-dangerous.  Most Gnostics are academics and scientists.  A few wizards, too.  But they classify the secrets beyond death as Nerroth’s own, so regard Necromancy and Animamancy the same as everyone else.  To date there is no record of Gnostic causing anyone harm.”

            “So why did the Hunt Master send us here?”

            Razer rubbed his chin.  “We’ll find out.”

            Carla finished the reading a sipped a cup of wine.  “Thank you all for listening.”  She turned to a man sitting in the front row.  “Arturo, have you found a publisher for the journal?”

            “No one at the University wants to print it.  I found a Bretonnian with a printing press, but before he’ll publish it he wants us to add something about the navy as well.”

            Carla nodded.  “You think he’s a spy?”

            “Most definitely.  Or at least working for one.”

            Carla sighed.  “We want to inform our own people of the King’s plans to keep us perpetually at war, not make us vulnerable to foreign powers.”

            “That journal’s it,” Razer said.

            A woman in the front row stood up.  “My cousin owns a coster.  He can arrange for passage to Rivedest or Kronlandern.  We can find a printer there.”

            Carla shook her head.  “Then we turn what we’ve found over to them.”

            “But the Crown is already onto us.  How else do you explain these Witch Hunters?”

            Carla turned to Razer and Eris.  “What do you say, Witch Hunters?”

            Razer smiled and stood up.  He pulled a small cylindrical object from his pocket.  “To keep this civil, I have a null bomb.  It won’t stop a room full of University educated wizards, but it will slow you down long enough for us to get away.  And we will bring reinforcements if this turns violent.”

            Everyone in the room recoiled, but remained silent.

            “You want my honest opinion?  The King and Nerroth are not one and the same, despite what he declares.  You’re Gnostics.  I have reason to believe what you’re saying about the King’s plans, and I agree with you.”  He reached into another pocket and pulled out a parchment envelope.  “This is a writ of excommunication.  Get to wherever you’re going and print your journal there.  Then I can tell my superiors I found harmless Gnostics and claim ignorance of your political beliefs.”

            Carla stared at him.  “Why?”

            “Because the angry young null who wanted to hunt down every caster on Trismegistus and make them pay is gone.  In his place is an old man tired of fighting.”

            “What will you do?”

            Razer shrugged.  “Tell my master that we found non-dangerous heretics and excommunicated them.”

            Carla turned to the woman.  “Very well.  Let’s start making our plans to leave, then.”

            “Why did you let them go?” Eris said.

            “Because they’re right.  Why else would the Crown issue us new muskets with demands to use them?  Why else are we being put on the tail of academics publishing material about military plans?”

            Eris sat down.  “But the succession wars just ended.”

            Razer nodded.  “So?  Bretonnia, Rivedest, and Kronlandern are all pursuing their own colonial and imperial ambitions.  Bretonnia’s navy ranges far and wide, clashing with Rivedest.  Rivedest tests the borders of Kronlandern while Kronlandern expands further into the Wastes.”

            Eris nodded.  “That’s why the Bretonnian wanted information on our navy.”

            “Our fleet didn’t participate in the succession wars.  It still rivals Bretonnia’s.”

            Razer picked up an envelope.  “This is for us.  It’s not the Hunt Master’s seal, though.”

            “You expecting to hear from him soon?”

            Razer opened it and read the letter within.  “Damn.”

            “What?”

            Razer handed the letter to Eris.

Witch Hunters,

            Thank you for protecting those innocents.  Yes, war is coming.  But there is hope for you yet.

Sincerely,

The Pilgrim