December 1069

At the back of my mind, I'd always wondered how the Denarians communicated and coordinated with one another. Sure, in the me-modern era they could use phones and the internet, but before that? How did the individual Denarians congregate and cooperate without a simple mundane means of communication, while hiding and not standing out?

The answer, of course, is magic. They had private spells and communication protocols that were only taught to the magically inclined among the Denarians.

And hurrah for me, I had access to those.

Four hours after I'd contacted Ursiel and Cerdic, I was standing in the ruins of the castle upon Baile Hill, on the other side of the river from York Castle. This one had been burnt down and torn apart during a rebellion earlier this year, and William hadn't bothered to renovate it since. As a result, it now lay abandoned, just a husk of blackened, charred wood.

I was waiting at the back of the courtyard, by where the front doors would have been, my backup scattered and hidden throughout the ruins. I stood alone, leaning on my staff, and tried to look as bored as possible. The sun was past the horizon, and night was falling fast.

I was cold, tired, hurting, and not at all certain about what I was about to do. But I didn't see any other option.

A figure crested the motte, making his way to the remnants of the castle gates, and I had to squint to see him. He was five-nine, five-ten at a glance, thin, almost unhealthily pale. He didn't have a lot of muscle tone, and his clothes, while still identifiable as priestly robes, had been through some wear and tear. He had lanky, messy black hair, and he looked faintly haggard, like he hadn't been sleeping well.

I let him get six feet into the courtyard and then called out, in clear Latin, "That's far enough."

The man stopped, and I took a deep breath and blinked once, slowly. When I opened my eyes again, I brought my Sight along with them.

So long as Cerdic was still Cerdic and not Ursiel, I felt relatively safe doing this. Not pleasant, not pleasant at all, but I needed a sense for how Cerdic was doing, how far gone he was. And if that meant getting a side-eyed glance at a Coin, well, so be it.

I didn't see Ursiel, for which I was grateful. Not directly anyway. But I definitely saw his influence.

Cerdic looked almost like a corpse under the Sight, withered and pale and frail. His face was like a mask, cracked and worn away, and emotions bubbled underneath it. Frustration, anger, rage. Shadows leaked out through the cracks, shadows that seeped through his head and came from the dark image of a bear that loomed over him, its claws digging into his shoulders.

With an effort of will, I closed my Sight.

There wasn't a lot to work with. If Cerdic had ever derived fulfillment from being a priest, that had clearly stopped a while ago. And something, maybe the Normans, maybe a life of relative isolation guarding a Coin, maybe something else entirely, had chipped away at him. And now Ursiel was stoking the anger, the hatred. Just like Lash had stoked mine.

In that moment, I realized there was no way I'd be able to appeal to Cerdic directly, not from the start. If I made an honest entreaty, he'd turn it aside. If I tried to play myself up as something horrible, it would just break him further. My only option was to somehow get Ursiel to turn against Cerdic and go from there.

How the hell was I supposed to manage that?

"Brother Cerdic of the Church of Saint Ethelbert the Martyr," I said, leaning on what John had told me. "Or former brother, I suppose."

Cerdic's brow furrowed. "Who are you?" His Latin came out dry, his tone cracking. Ursiel must have been working him hard over the past few weeks.

"You can call me Harry. As for who I am, I am an advisor to the Count of Mortain and through him the King of England." I squared my shoulders and imitated every monologuing warlock and villain I'd ever come across. "And you pose an interesting complication."

Cerdic's eyes widened. "You… you control the king."

"Control the king? No, not directly. That's too obvious, too much effort. Now, control his idiot brother, direct him, influence him, make him see my point of view when appropriate, yes. Which makes you coming here to kill them all rather difficult for me. You see, I dislike people ruining what I've put time and effort into."

That made Cerdic angry, predictably, and I held up a hand.

"Now, before you try anything, do ask Ursiel what your odds are against a wizard backed by foreknowledge, preparation, and Hellfire are." I forced as amused a smile as I could manage. "I'll wait."

This time, when Cerdic replied, a different voice came out, quiet, smooth, and melodious, accompanied by a pair of seething orange eyes. "Enough to hurt you grievously."

Stage two. I released the spell I'd been holding back, and a pair of purple eyes opened above mine, purple mist started to coil at my feet, and a moment later a woman's voice said, "Please, Ursiel, don't make a fool of yourself. It wouldn't stick, you know that."

Ursiel's eyes narrowed on Cerdic's face. "Lasciel. I wasn't aware you were free."

"Times change and we change with them," I replied, drawing on my own memories of Lash and how she acted to try and impersonate her. "Opportunities come about." I gestured towards him and said in my own voice, "Case in point."

There was a twitch, and Cerdic took a step forward. Ursiel's eyes blazed, and he stopped.

This definitely wasn't the Knight-approved way to go about separating a Denarian from their Fallen, but I was at least making some progress on that front.

"Go on," Ursiel said cautiously.

"You see, the Count of Mortain has a learned chaplain in his court. One who knows about the Order. One who knows about Cerdic here breaking you out. One who came to me to see what I could do about it. About you."

Cerdic's posture tensed, and I got the feeling Ursiel was getting ready to come out. I saw someone move behind him, along the broken wall, and instantly dismissed the figure as irrelevant.

"And what are you going to do?" Ursiel asked.

"That depends on you," I said. "You see, I can't have you kill the king and his court. That would set me back years and force me to start all over again with one of his sons. But if you attacked and I were to drive you back, slay and defeat you, why the king would fall all over himself to reward his savior, and the church would see me as one of their own. A perfect cover."

"Until a Knight comes to ruin it."

"There's only one Knight close enough to intervene," I said. It was a guess, but it seemed a safe one. Fidelacchius was probably out East somewhere, and Amoracchius was, well, I don't even know. But I'm not sure it was around. That left Esperacchius.

It would have been really nice if said Knight showed up at that moment, but he didn't.

"And even if he did, there are ways of dealing with him. You know that," I said.

"And why should I agree to return to my prison, Lasciel? To spend years trapped in darkness?" he asked.

"If you agree to cooperate, you won't," I replied with Lash's voice. "We'll cover up your escape, which you should have done in the first place, and you could lay low for a while, until another opportunity comes along. But if you don't, if you try and ruin what I, what we've, worked towards, we'll return you to your prison."

"Is that so?" Ursiel said, Cerdic taking a step forward. I pointed my staff at him.

"Yup," I agreed, back to my own voice. "The choice is pretty simple: try and fight me, lose your host, and then we renegotiate. Maybe I decide I'm not going to trade you in for favor with the church. Or you march him on over, and you take a few mortal hits where appropriate, and I cover this whole thing up, dispose of some, alter the memories of others. And if we succeed in this little play, then the reward is nothing less than influence over an entire nation, every talent minor and major within its borders. You see, I'm part of a circle of wizards, and we aim to form an institution, a center of learning, magical, mundane, of… philosophy. I could do a lot in such a position." Then, in Lash's voice, I added sweetly, "For the Order, of course."

Ursiel's eyes were fixed on mine, while Cerdic's hands were clenched, nails digging into his palms. This was the moment of truth, I could tell. If Ursiel was tempted enough, and Cerdic insulted enough, then maybe I could get Cerdic to toss the coin, refuse to participate. Or Cerdic could decide to run, which was less good but still an improvement over the current situation. It would give time for Salazar to show up, and hopefully, hopefully, brink his basilisk. Or Ursiel commandeered Cerdic, which wouldn't be great but might be impetus enough for Cerdic to then surrender the coin.

Or none of those could happen, and Ursiel could decide to try killing me.

Threatening a Fallen with imprisonment wasn't the best way to get one to listen to you, but I was saddled with Lasciel's reputation as an unreliable ally, a rebel-among-rebels. Ursiel wouldn't buy a deal that looked too good to be true.

The trouble was, I also needed to get the drop on Ursiel, and I couldn't be sure of the way Cerdic would go. With how stacked the situation was against me, I couldn't afford to have him and Ursiel align.

Cerdic's nails started drawing blood, and he was glaring at me hatefully. I stared back, impassive, careful not to meet his eyes. I wasn't sure which way that would go. I figured he'd see enough in me to realize my deception. Whether that would prompt him to abandon the coin though, or to attack me, I didn't know.

And, shamefully, some small part of me was hoping Cerdic chose Ursiel here. Because at least then, I could keep the details contained, away from John and Robert and all the rest.

I needed to make the call: could I pivot, make a heartfelt plea, and get Cerdic to give up Ursiel? Or did I assume he was too far gone, and try to kill him? I had one shot at this, one opportunity. And if I didn't get my point across in the first few seconds, then Ursiel would realize he had been duped and start editing Cerdic's senses. Then I was really done.

But as I looked at Cerdic, I thought of Michael. Of the way he would react to seeing me jump to assassination. The simple, quiet resignation, maybe even some disappointment.

I suppressed a sigh. Cerdic hadn't killed anyone so far, that I knew of at least. He wasn't completely gone. He deserved a chance.

"Or option three," I said, drawing the full attention of both Cerdic and Ursiel. "Cerdic, you surrender Ursiel and come back." I let the illusory eyes and mist fade, and spoke faster for the last stretch. "Realize that it was all a lie and that you still have a chance."

Ursiel's eyes widened, but it was Cerdic's expression I focused on. The brief look of confusion, bewilderment. For a moment, I thought he'd make the right choice.

Then his expression twisted with fury. I don't know if Ursiel got to him, or if he just felt angry, or what. But I couldn't take the chance.

I drummed my fingers against my staff and a heartbeat later, there was a blur from behind Cerdic. Some instinct alerted him that something was off, and he whirled around in confusion, raising an arm in surprise.

Then his arm was gone, flying off into the courtyard, and a sword was thrust in Cerdic's face. When it hit the edge of his nose, it cut through flesh. When it started to hit his eye, it cut through fur.

An ursine roar of pain split the air as Cerdic ballooned in size, his remaining limbs turning into massive bear legs, another pair growing out of his torso, curling ram horns sprouting from behind his ears. He reared back on two legs and swiped at the indistinct figure in front of him, missing by a foot as the blur leapt back, bloody sword in hand.

Plan A, get Cerdic to drop the coin, had fallen through. Plan B, kill Cerdic before Ursiel came out, had also fallen through. That left Plan C:

Kill Ursiel right away, before he could start blocking magic.

Even though my staff was not the best focus for this, I thrust it forward and yelled, "Pyrofuego!"

Author's Note: You can expect a lot of questions for Harry once this is over.