Chapter 43: New Commands
I followed Father Ithris back into the Divine Throne. He paced ahead, his footsteps quick and agitated, occasionally shooting glances over his shoulder until I caught up. I paused for breath after ascending each flight of stairs, much to his growing impatience, but my exhaustion overruled any concern for his irritation. At long last, we arrived at the Chapel of Councils, where the slave crest was first given me.
Surprisingly, the Pope was there, along with his usual train of Fathers and attendants. They sat in a circle in the center of the chapel, deep in discussion. As we entered, the Pope raised his hand and silence fell over the room. He beckoned us forward to the middle of the circle, where Father Ithris left me and took a seat in an empty chair.
"You wanted to see me?" I asked, giving a deep curtsy, as was tradition of slaves in the presence of the Pope.
"The Slave Hero," he said, frowning as he stroked his chin. "I wish you made things easy for us."
"Holy One?" I asked, raising my head to look at him in confusion. Surely, it was the other way around!
"Silence," a Father at his left hissed. "Speak only when asked a question."
"Let it be," the Pope said, "she is a hero, no matter how cursed that thought may be."
The father nodded and gave me a glare, but I didn’t expect any friends here to begin with. Only Father Ithris maintained a civil, if indifferent, expression, but even that was something born from long exposure.
The Pope lifted a scroll up and scanned over the information, his eyes occasionally flicking up to glance at me. "It seems you’ve developed some unusual talents. Mastering the Eyes of Fate so young and with little guidance, learning chant and modifying spells, weak as they are, and learning spells at a rate that can only be described as monstrous. I can’t help but feel these gifts wasted on you, a mere demon."