Zara just grinned.
"What's with the robes?" Evie asked, clearly annoyed that she didn't understand their conversation. "Bold of you to playdress as a chorister, considerin' the company."
Zara tilted her head in the slightest of bows. "Zara has long sung the Choristry of Avet, though Caerwin has never pledged herself to any cause."
Felix furrowed his brow. Had he been wrong? "But you're the same person...aren't you?"
"Masks are funny, Felix. We wear them, but they also wear us." Zara's eyes flickered out toward the crowd. "We haven't much time, I imagine. Come. We must speak in private."
She reached out for their hands, but Evie snatched hers away. Zara tutted. "Don't be like that, Aren. The god of secrets and fire isn't going to steal your soul. At least not through me."
"That's exactly what He'd say though," Evie muttered. "But don't you forget that He's also the god of change. Violent change. After what we've heard here, I don't know that we should be talkin' to you at all."
Zara tilted her head, conceding the point. "True enough. I make no claim on the virtue of the gods, I merely share their chorus."
She gestured away from the crowd. "Do you wish to follow?"
Again, the two of them shared a long look. "You trust her, Felix?"
"I uh--" Felix found himself reaching out for that connection again, his Affinity, and in a way he still didn't consciously understand, he listened. The world narrowed, until only himself and Zara existed, until he could hear the thud of his own heartbeat and the rising tempo of the Naiads inner music. It felt...agitated, but confident. He could sense a truthfulness, somehow, but it was coupled with a sense of urgency that sent secondhand chords of panic back into his own chest. Felix broke off the contact with a gasp, and the world around them returned.
Zara blinked, very clearly shocked by what had just happened, though she regained her composure quickly. Felix took a steadying breath and nodded. "I think I do. For now."
"Good enough for me, I guess." Evie tilted her chin at the Naiad. "Let's go."
"Wonderful."
The three of them stepped away from the crowd, moving into the farther ends of the chamber, where the vaulted ceilings came down onto a series of brickwork pillars. Perhaps fifty feet away, an alcove was set behind yet another pointed trefoil arch. Felix couldn't detect anyone over here, though he wasn't sure; that faint stench seemed to stick to his physical senses in a distracting way.
As they drew close to the arch, two birds fluttered down from above. They landed on her shoulders easily, nestling into the folds of her dark robe. Felix hadn't sensed them at all, though that might have been because of their size rather than the general miasma in the air. They were quite small, a little brown and white owl the size of a teacup and a brightly colored kingfisher that was slightly larger.
Pit chirruped brightly in his head, and the two birds eyed him with interest. The tenku was always looking to make friends or fight monsters. Felix was happy he'd settled on friends for now. The fighting might have to come later.
They stepped through the archway and into a small open room. Bounded only by the archway in front, it was open to the vaulted ceiling; likely it was some sort of supply closet back when this all was an operational sewer system. Now there was only a simple round wooden table and five simple stools. It made Felix wonder how long the choristers had been hiding down here. Did they live there? Or just worship?
"My reasons for asking you down here were threefold, Felix Nevarre." Zara turned to address them once they'd cleared the arch. She led them to sit at the table. "The first was to give you...perspective. I would have you know the lay of the land in Haarwatch before we continue. As well as the roles I play."
"I'm gonna have to assume you mean the little rebellion out there, yeah?" Zara nodded and Felix sighed. "Okay. That's not something I want to get involved with...I'm flying by the seat of my pants here. Signing up for a theological revolution isn't my thing."
"Seat of your pants...?" Evie said with a grin. "I'm with him on that. I hold the old faith, but I'm not about to risk my neck on whatever fool thing these trumped up peacocks have planned."
"A reasonable position to hold," Zara agreed. "I too believe it is far too late to take the sort of actions they desire. They seek a peaceful resolution, a show of economic and political force by those that keep this city running. The time for such actions has unfortunately passed, and newer, more dire solutions must present themselves."
"More dire solutions?" Felix asked. "You mean more violent."
Zara tilted her head again. "If it must be so. Of them all, the Chorister of Yyero has the closest angle on it, if I'm to be honest. The others, however, do not listen well to a Chorister of the trickster god known for inciting incendiary change. They listen to Caerwin well enough, but she is only one voice."
"Ok that's gettin' real confusin'," Evie complained. "You're both right? Caerwin and Zara. Why do you talk about her like she's not you?"
"Nature of the craft, Aren." Zara bit her lips for a brief second, and her sharp teeth drew blood. "I'll explain in better detail if you accept my offer, Felix."
Felix nodded slowly. "Alright. Then what's the second reason?"
"The second is that I am in need of apprentices. I seek to pass on what I know, what few in the Heirocracy know." Zara looked Felix in the eye.
"Chanter magic," he said.
"Just so," Zara smiled. "Those that understand the harmonics of the universe are few and far between. You fell into my lap, Felix, just as I was searching for those with the talents to grasp the truths I bear. That is not coincidence. That is providence."
Felix grimaced. "Predestination is not my favorite concept. I'm not here because someone sent me. I'm--"
Felix swallowed his words and he felt Evie tense next to him. "I'm here for my own reasons," he finished.
"All that I know, is that you came to me when you were most needed," Zara held her hands out, placatingly. "Until last week, I had found only one other that could help me. And that has been---well. A challenge."
"Really? Someone else?" Felix was intrigued. "Who?"
"You'll meet them soon, if all things go right," Zara promised. "The third reason is the most important. Far more than my need for an inheritor. Something beyond the unrest the choristers are trying to capitalize upon. Have you sensed it?"
Felix and Evie frowned in tandem, but then the chain-fighter snorted. "Lady, I've been hiding from the Guild and the Redcloaks for weeks now. That's plenty of problems for me."
Zara smiled with her shark teeth. "Fair enough."
She looked to him. "Felix? Do you--"
"NO!"
The three of them spun toward the sound, and Felix quickly oriented on the stage. They still had a clear line of sight through the archway. The twins in blue had attempted to walk up next, but a woman in dark red robes stumbled to the stage, her eyes wild. Her robes were torn and stained, as if she had slept in them for years. Her pale-brown hair was tangled, half-matted and the other half trying to escape whatever clips or ties she was using.
"The Chorister of Vellus," Zara said with pity in her voice. "The poor thing."
Without warning, Felix's sight was subsumed by a vision of that terrible mountain. A cataclysmic storm tore across it, an eternal torment that sent blood-curdling screams crawling through his veins. The sudden memory was so visceral that Felix shoved the tips of his fingers straight through the wooden table top.
"Blood and ashes, Felix!" Evie said, startled by the loud crack from the table.
"Ah, shit. Sorry." The vision settled back into his Mind and Felix gave an embarrassed glance at the others. "Um, what's that about?"
"You're not a follower of any gods, are you Felix?" Zara asked, her eyes curiously flicking between his fingers and his face.
"Ah, no," Felix admitted.
Zara sighed lightly. "The Pathless claims the gods died, having lost their way beyond the heavens. But like the chorister said, the gods are not dead. They are slumbering, far away. Vellus, however...Vellus was Lost."
"Lost? Like how the Nym are a Lost Race?" Felix asked.
"The Nym? Yes, exactly like that. Records of the Ages past are moth-eaten at best, all first-hand accounts on the subject either destroyed or wiped clean in much the same way as the Nym. We don't know why or how, but the Ruin came for Vellus." Zara pointed at the stage, visible through the archway. "Those that still venerate Her always end up mad."
"Then why would anyone?" Evie said, aghast.
That's awful, Felix agreed, now closely watching as the red-robed woman fought against the blue's restraints. He was reminded of Old Mungle, the Sage of Vellus, a madman trapped in the Void. He too had the same timeworn affliction. The other choristers tried in vain to hold her back, but somehow the Chorister of Vellus shook them off and stepped toward the edge.
He wanted to ask Zara about her third reason, but Felix could suddenly feel a strange crackle in the air. A tension that lifted the hair at the back of his neck. Nothing like how the others had affected the chamber. What is this?
Zara sat up straighter, her blue eyes narrowing. Felix could sense Evie grip her chain harder, and he knew she was already looking for the exits. The chorister began to speak.
"Yyero's chosen speaks of a dire darkness. Of none to help. Of failed mortality. He is right."
The woman's voice was reedy and thin, all but trembling under the weight of the audience's regard. She spoke as if she couldn't help herself, as if each word pained her. "When death dropped from the skies, no mortal hand reached out to help us. To help you. But those in the Dust, they saw something else that day, didn't they?"
The quiet was heavy, thick with...something Felix couldn't identify. The chorister clenched her hands before her, before clapping them together, sending the sharp sound blasting into the crowd.
"Like lightning they came! The one who delivered the Dust from the predation of monstrous fate. Who was it? Who, on that day, dared defy the Guild? Defied the Inquisition itself?"
Whispers swept through the chamber like a breeze before a storm. Hands and head flapped like leaves, twisting and nodding and gesturing. Felix felt his gut sink even as his face began to heat up in embarrassment.
"The Blue-Eyed Fiend!" The chorister's voice cracked like a thunderbolt, stilling the whispers in an instant. "No mere mortal, but an avatar! A vessel of the great gods! A champion sent from the slumbering ones to protect their chosen people!"
Even from this distance, Felix could see the white all around the chorister's eyes. She panted with heavy breaths. "A mighty storm followed his appearance for days, proof of his provenance! Wings of darkest night! A voice of thunder! Eyes of midnight flame!"
Each shout sent fissures through the crowd, near visible tremors that sent the audience trembling. Felix could see they were getting worked up, and several of the Dusters (even Rafny and her coterie) had their fists upraised and were cheering.
"We ask for relief from the Inquisition, Blue-Eyed Fiend! We call on you! We beseech you! Aid us, defier!"
The chorister's voice had turned rough and ragged by the end, but the crowd went wild. That crackling in the air discharged into a jagged cry, one that was soon taken up by many. It was a wild, inchoate ululation; a stoked desperation that sent chills down Felix's back to hear.
A squawk from Zara's shoulder jolted Felix back from the mortified silence he'd fallen into. He looked at the Naiad's odd pets, and their gaze was fixed on the archway. A moment later, a young boy stepped into the alcove. He was perhaps fifteen years old and wore a simple but clean tunic and shorts, along with a set of strappy sandals.
"Uh ma'am?" He asked, voice shaking. The boy glanced back at the uproar of the crowd with wide eyes.
"Ah, yes. Come in, boy."
He stepped further in and made a beckoning gesture behind him. A woman followed, cloaked in black. Something ineffable had changed about her, but Felix couldn't have mistaken that dusky skin and dark hair. Her own eyes widened in surprise as she turned the corner.
"Evie! Felix!"
Chairs scooted back as they both stood, and Evie closed the distance in moments. She fairly tackled the heiress in a hug, hard enough that Felix hoped Vess was wearing armor.
"Fate beckons! The storm calls!" the chorister shouted from beyond. "Vellus draws all in her tireless tides!"
Then the wall exploded.