Project Indigo: Faith’s Call
1. Eliana’s Dissent
Version last modified 29 December 2020
Eliana woke to the weighted chains. She rolled onto her side, back to the wall, and propped herself up. The jailer jingled up and down the corridor. Eliana yawned and as she closed her eyes, she reached out and felt for them — nothing. A shame. The door rocked under heavy knocking. Eliana stood up. The dress of a Cardinal was unmistakable. As he entered with the imperium of the Faith, the smell of myrrh filled the air. The jailer kissed his signet ring. His attendants recited scripture as they followed.
Eliana wondered what the Magisterium would make of her. Not a martyr, they would lose all credibility. Her dissent had spread like arson. When she walked the streets, she heard even beggars whispering her words. Her entire life, there had only ever been the Magisterium. The hospitals, the schools, the offices of trade, and the churches were all their domain. If a child did not become a healer, a teacher, an artificer or a priest; what hope could they have for a reputable future?
There was never any doubt Eliana would not be a healer. She was quick to learn, and fast to master. The superiors could teach her anything. Her skill was such that the Magisterium sent her to a Master of Healing. She was to learn skills beyond those anyone here knew. The Magisterium never expected her betrayal, and neither did she.
But what I saw, she told herself, was not right. It was cruel and selfish. Eliana did not enjoy administering the last rites. The passages were long and by the end, the patients were mostly delirious. When she had finished and her patient had quietened, Eliana heard a man talking to a priest. Though it were afar, she could tell his clothes were coloured silk and quite unlike the tatters of the man she just ministered. He whispered, “we ne’er meant it. The money’s under the garden oak,” and he perished. The next day, the oak in the city gardens had been upended.
The Cardinal approached her as if to embrace her. He was not. In one hand he held a rod, the other a rope. Her fate was sealed. She thought of her mother’s words, “women must protect their modesty,” and of the knife strapped under her breasts. For a brief second she wondered if she could bring herself back if she took the rope. A risky endeavour.
The theft was not the only thing that conflicted Eliana. A certain priest was said to have broken his vows, wed in secret and made a child, only to have a daughter. She was never seen but a baby girl was found in the monastery garden. The beasts of the wood had set upon it. A nun was rumoured to have been broken by an altar boy but the events never came to light. She’d seen so many who claimed to only need the truth, and then take the donations for themselves. These did not make the written word or the spoken announcements, in fact, no one spoke of them.
The Cardinal spoke only three words before he departed, “you are forgiven.” Eliana could see the low sun through cracks. Without alerting the jailer, she shook herself so the knife would remove itself. It did not. She closed her eyes and sent her mind across the town, feeling for something, anything she could arise. A rabbit lay crushed by a wagon on the street, it would not rise.
Though Eliana wrote her dissent, she dared not share it. She feared there wasn’t enough evidence and that she would not be read. But most of all, she feared for herself. Tamara claimed she had seen the altar boy who broke the nun, but then she disappeared. The priests told her Tamara had gone to see her mother. Eliana never knew of Tamara’s mother and neither did she. When she felt the earth one day, she felt the hand of Tamara. It was in a ditch far out of town, set below the main road. No one would find her.
Eliana never raised Tamara. She dared not ruin the memory of a friend. She wasn’t sure if she would return as a friend either.
In her studies with the Master of Healing, she learnt all manners of things; no art was beyond their curriculum. They made ointments to allay pain, tinctures to allay death, and materials to facilitate healing. But her most potent tool was the art of necromancy. She learnt to feel the earth for the decay, to feel flesh for the corruption, and to move illness from one to another. An equivalent exchange.
Her first act of heresy had been silent, a secret. A rich bachelor had returned from hunting with his bones broken, organs mangled, and was given the greatest service by the priests and fathers. He was dying. His kidneys had stopped and his blood was ripe with ammonia. He could not egest so his sheets were stained. And he lay there in his suit of glistening linen amidst a sea of waste.
A farmer had been mauled by his dog but he clung to life, wishing to see his children, pondering about his wife. She attended him whenever she could, the cows needed milking and the children needed reading. The farmer could easily survive. He needed only a drop of baker’s milk to clear the corruption but the priest would not let Eliana “waste it lest the bachelor need it.” The bachelor was struggling to breathe now; his lungs were collapsing and he barely had the energy to keep breathing. So, Eliana did the forbidden.
In the midst of night, Eliana moved the bachelor. He was less likely to stir and trouble the silence. She grasped both men’s hands and closed her eyes. She searched for the life in the bachelor and grasped it, then sent it all to the farmer. The bachelor had turned pale. The farmer’s corruption had receded. She moved the bachelor back.
When they discovered the body in the morning and the farmer sitting on his bed, the priests were stunned. The Faith’s Guard was called into the hospital. Eliana barely got out. She monitored the comings and goings, and eventually saw the farmer released. He clutched his wife and children, tears streamed down their faces. Not a drop of baker’s milk had gone missing. No one could explain how any of it had happened.
The jailer returned to Eliana’s cell. He fiddled with the keys, then unlocked the door. The market was lined with people, waiting to see if the rumours were true. Eliana could see August, trailed by Romaine in black as if it were a funeral. The jailer led Eliana all the way to the square where a change of guard occurred and the Faith’s Guard took possession of her. Father Angelo stood at the forefront of the stage. When she’d reached the stage, he took her hands in his and apologised. A tear rolled down his face as he began to talk.
“We are gathered here to confront the rumours that have run rampant through these lands and to reveal the truth of the matter.”
TO BE CONTINUED…