Dexter made a sound Solomon wouldn't have quite been able to identify if not for the ripple in the banner of his soul, the sort that spoke of disgust and anger both. Not at the women who needed the help, but at the men who must have put them in that position. Dexter was nobleborn, and from far enough back to have a true sense of chivalry. The Adept said nothing, however.
Solomon felt Saffron's gaze on him, as if waiting for permission or guidance, and when he said nothing either she spoke up. "I don't understand," she said tentatively. "A ... shelter? How would I be hidden there?"
Because, of course, in her mind a place like that was for the weak. Actually, she probably hadn't really imagined that places like that existed, especially for women in particular. Magic was something of an equaliser. If you couldn't rely on yourself, then you were dead. There were temporary allies and nothing more. Necromancers didn't tend to look at the facets of the mortal world which focussed on actually helping people, because needing help was alien.
"Mortals put great stock in helping people who need the help," Solomon said.
"But--"
That's just because they're weak, she was going to say, and stopped in deference to the fact they were actually asking mortals for help. But her confusion swirled more densely.
"The Temple teaches that weakness is bad, Saffron," Solomon said patiently. "Some mortals are like that too, but not all. They don't see helping others, or needing help, as weakness. Just as a state of circumstance to be remedied. The women in this shelter will be people like you: those in need of a place to go, to protect them from people who would hurt them."
"But will it?" Dexter asked. "The Temple isn't going to care about a bunch of mortals in their way. All her protection is going to be under the assumption they won't know she's there. If they find out, they'll take her back, no matter how many mortals are in the way."
Solomon laughed bitterly. "Believe me, Vex, no one in the Temple who would actually mean to bring her back would ever dream I've hidden her in an abused womens' home on the recommendation of a Christian priest. My reputation and the general perception of mortals will ensure that. Tenebrae might consider that I've visited a church, but he won't know which or how, or consider that I'd use a mortal to protect someone magical. He just won't. He isn't capable of changing his manner of thought to that degree. He's made of stone."
"Oh."
Saffron still didn't look happy, relatively speaking, at being lumped in with weakness, let alone weak mortals, but she was desperate enough not to actually object. At least, Solomon preferred to believe it was desperation and not that misplaced hero-worship. (He was deluding himself and he knew it.)
"We'll have our own people keep watch," Solomon said, turning back to Paddy, "but Dexter does have a point. Who heads the shelter? If odd things happen, how would she react?"
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Solomon felt Saffron's gaze on him, as if waiting for permission or guidance, and when he said nothing either she spoke up. "I don't understand," she said tentatively. "A ... shelter? How would I be hidden there?"
Because, of course, in her mind a place like that was for the weak. Actually, she probably hadn't really imagined that places like that existed, especially for women in particular. Magic was something of an equaliser. If you couldn't rely on yourself, then you were dead. There were temporary allies and nothing more. Necromancers didn't tend to look at the facets of the mortal world which focussed on actually helping people, because needing help was alien.
"Mortals put great stock in helping people who need the help," Solomon said.
"But--"
That's just because they're weak, she was going to say, and stopped in deference to the fact they were actually asking mortals for help. But her confusion swirled more densely.
"The Temple teaches that weakness is bad, Saffron," Solomon said patiently. "Some mortals are like that too, but not all. They don't see helping others, or needing help, as weakness. Just as a state of circumstance to be remedied. The women in this shelter will be people like you: those in need of a place to go, to protect them from people who would hurt them."
"But will it?" Dexter asked. "The Temple isn't going to care about a bunch of mortals in their way. All her protection is going to be under the assumption they won't know she's there. If they find out, they'll take her back, no matter how many mortals are in the way."
Solomon laughed bitterly. "Believe me, Vex, no one in the Temple who would actually mean to bring her back would ever dream I've hidden her in an abused womens' home on the recommendation of a Christian priest. My reputation and the general perception of mortals will ensure that. Tenebrae might consider that I've visited a church, but he won't know which or how, or consider that I'd use a mortal to protect someone magical. He just won't. He isn't capable of changing his manner of thought to that degree. He's made of stone."
"Oh."
Saffron still didn't look happy, relatively speaking, at being lumped in with weakness, let alone weak mortals, but she was desperate enough not to actually object. At least, Solomon preferred to believe it was desperation and not that misplaced hero-worship. (He was deluding himself and he knew it.)
"We'll have our own people keep watch," Solomon said, turning back to Paddy, "but Dexter does have a point. Who heads the shelter? If odd things happen, how would she react?"