"I could hardly have him continue to misuse the Crossword Puzzler Extraordinaire's proper title," Solomon said with deadpan innocence, turning his head to the side. "What sort of impression would that have given to visiting dignitaries?" He felt calmer now. Oddly enough, even calmer with Ghastly's obvious edge. It was that strange knowledge that he wasn't alone, that others were having trouble as well.
He didn't mind letting the others talk over him, though. All this was a bit too serious for his mental state. The ex-Necromancer was shoring himself up, bit by bit, steadily turning over all those facts in his head until even the ones that didn't fit had lost some of their sharpness.
Solomon lifted his head wordlessly at Skulduggery's assertion, not precisely looking the detective in the soul but enough that he could see ... something. He wasn't sure what. A cloud. Or dust. Maybe just a spiderweb.
It was overtaken by Gabe's brightness, and yet somehow the Archangel was subdued as well.
"Corrival--"
"I know," said Corrival, cutting the Archangel off. His tone was oddly agreeable. In fact, Solomon saw, he wasn't even angry at this sudden revelation. Not angry because ... he'd expected it. "You're not going to help us. That's fine."
This reaction wasn't anything like Gabe expected, if the confusion on his face was anything to go by. "You don't mind?"
One of Corrival's snapped in a lazy sort of way that indicated exasperation, but no real affront, particularly the warmth in his centre. "The first time I met Eachan Meritorious, it was at a clan meeting my mother dragged me to in the hopes of throwing me in my father's path. Actually, it was just after, in a tavern not far from where the meeting was being held. We struck up a conversation. He had been trying to convince the magical clans that there was reason for us to get more involved in mortal lives, see.
"I heard some of it. It all sounded very pretty, but my mother was mortal. Hell, I was raised mortal. She always objected to me using magic to speed things along. Said it was cheating. Said mortals lived perfectly well without needing magic tricks to make them forget how to earn. So I told Meritorious that we shouldn't be getting involved at all, at least not in the ways he said we should. I didn't find out until a couple of centuries later, but apparently his arguing with a nineteen-year-old in a tavern had been the highlight of his evening. Everyone else ..." Solomon heard a rustle that was probably a shrug. "Everyone else didn't want to listen because they were entitled, lazy, or bigoted. His words."
"You have a very good point in there," Merlin said, and there was a smile in his voice. Corrival went on blandly, neither humble nor arrogant; simply matter of fact.
"Yes, I do. That point being that if mortals can create a society that has gone to the moon without magical influence, I think the bunch of us can handle running a country without needing to have our hands held by angels the whole way."
Gabe's light was doing strange things. His wings were pulled in close, but at the same time cupped loosely, as if he was slowly relaxing. There was relief on his face. Relief and gratification and humility. "Corrival, thank you."
"Don't thank me. It was either that or draw a comparison. Glad I didn't have to do that; I don't want to witness a smiting."
"What comparison would that be?" Rafe asked with a grin.
"The one where I pointed out that if Gabriel had kept doing what he was doing, there wouldn't have been much of a difference between him and the Faceless Ones except that his cage would be gilded." It was a very simple pronouncement that made Solomon's head jerk up. Corrival's eels were twisting around each other wryly, in a manner that made Solomon know the man knew what the Faceless Ones had been.
There was a moment of silence. The look on Gabe's face was tragic and yet somehow not. Like a dawning. "You're right. I--you're right. There's only so far I can advise you as a friend before I start becoming an overlord. I don't want that."
"Good, because neither do I," Corrival said. "By the way, you're fired. I can't have a Sanctuary detective who's literally above the law. It puts both of us in bad positions."
Gabe laughed, startled but bright with relief. "That's fair."
"Good." Corrival's attention shifted to the rest of them at large, to the gathering. A leader giving orders, asking advice. "Which means that we need China Sorrows to be in on this. She's the one made the maze, so she's the one whose expertise we need."
"I'll talk to her," Solomon said as he tilted his head in Corrival's direction, surprising himself again that day, but only vaguely. He didn't know it, but his face was haggard and lined from the tears, his eyes slightly bloodshot. Yet for all that, his expression was calmer almost than ever before, save in the immediate aftermath of his rescue from the Temple, when he had been riding high. His mouth quirked. "We have something in common. I think I'll be able to convince her to help."
"Fine," Corrival said briskly, "and in the meantime we should start looking into ways to replace the Cleavers. A golem might have some merit, if they have reflections. Can someone talk to Kenspeckle Grouse for suggestions?"
no subject
He didn't mind letting the others talk over him, though. All this was a bit too serious for his mental state. The ex-Necromancer was shoring himself up, bit by bit, steadily turning over all those facts in his head until even the ones that didn't fit had lost some of their sharpness.
Solomon lifted his head wordlessly at Skulduggery's assertion, not precisely looking the detective in the soul but enough that he could see ... something. He wasn't sure what. A cloud. Or dust. Maybe just a spiderweb.
It was overtaken by Gabe's brightness, and yet somehow the Archangel was subdued as well.
"Corrival--"
"I know," said Corrival, cutting the Archangel off. His tone was oddly agreeable. In fact, Solomon saw, he wasn't even angry at this sudden revelation. Not angry because ... he'd expected it. "You're not going to help us. That's fine."
This reaction wasn't anything like Gabe expected, if the confusion on his face was anything to go by. "You don't mind?"
One of Corrival's snapped in a lazy sort of way that indicated exasperation, but no real affront, particularly the warmth in his centre. "The first time I met Eachan Meritorious, it was at a clan meeting my mother dragged me to in the hopes of throwing me in my father's path. Actually, it was just after, in a tavern not far from where the meeting was being held. We struck up a conversation. He had been trying to convince the magical clans that there was reason for us to get more involved in mortal lives, see.
"I heard some of it. It all sounded very pretty, but my mother was mortal. Hell, I was raised mortal. She always objected to me using magic to speed things along. Said it was cheating. Said mortals lived perfectly well without needing magic tricks to make them forget how to earn. So I told Meritorious that we shouldn't be getting involved at all, at least not in the ways he said we should. I didn't find out until a couple of centuries later, but apparently his arguing with a nineteen-year-old in a tavern had been the highlight of his evening. Everyone else ..." Solomon heard a rustle that was probably a shrug. "Everyone else didn't want to listen because they were entitled, lazy, or bigoted. His words."
"You have a very good point in there," Merlin said, and there was a smile in his voice. Corrival went on blandly, neither humble nor arrogant; simply matter of fact.
"Yes, I do. That point being that if mortals can create a society that has gone to the moon without magical influence, I think the bunch of us can handle running a country without needing to have our hands held by angels the whole way."
Gabe's light was doing strange things. His wings were pulled in close, but at the same time cupped loosely, as if he was slowly relaxing. There was relief on his face. Relief and gratification and humility. "Corrival, thank you."
"Don't thank me. It was either that or draw a comparison. Glad I didn't have to do that; I don't want to witness a smiting."
"What comparison would that be?" Rafe asked with a grin.
"The one where I pointed out that if Gabriel had kept doing what he was doing, there wouldn't have been much of a difference between him and the Faceless Ones except that his cage would be gilded." It was a very simple pronouncement that made Solomon's head jerk up. Corrival's eels were twisting around each other wryly, in a manner that made Solomon know the man knew what the Faceless Ones had been.
There was a moment of silence. The look on Gabe's face was tragic and yet somehow not. Like a dawning. "You're right. I--you're right. There's only so far I can advise you as a friend before I start becoming an overlord. I don't want that."
"Good, because neither do I," Corrival said. "By the way, you're fired. I can't have a Sanctuary detective who's literally above the law. It puts both of us in bad positions."
Gabe laughed, startled but bright with relief. "That's fair."
"Good." Corrival's attention shifted to the rest of them at large, to the gathering. A leader giving orders, asking advice. "Which means that we need China Sorrows to be in on this. She's the one made the maze, so she's the one whose expertise we need."
"I'll talk to her," Solomon said as he tilted his head in Corrival's direction, surprising himself again that day, but only vaguely. He didn't know it, but his face was haggard and lined from the tears, his eyes slightly bloodshot. Yet for all that, his expression was calmer almost than ever before, save in the immediate aftermath of his rescue from the Temple, when he had been riding high. His mouth quirked. "We have something in common. I think I'll be able to convince her to help."
"Fine," Corrival said briskly, "and in the meantime we should start looking into ways to replace the Cleavers. A golem might have some merit, if they have reflections. Can someone talk to Kenspeckle Grouse for suggestions?"