Asha nodded slowly. It made sense, then; the Northwarden would hardly want to waste time wading through pages of information he couldn’t use. “And once something has been confirmed?”
“The Scribe copies it into a single book—called the Journal—along with the names of the Augurs who had the vision. We all have access to it. The Journal is then used as a reliable source of information about future events,” Elocien concluded.
Asha remained silent for a while as she processed what she’d been told. The system made sense, and she understood why they’d chosen her. It was a massive responsibility, though. One she knew without having to ask that she had no choice about accepting.
“You’re placing a lot of trust in me,” she observed.
Elocien nodded, expression serious. “Erran insisted.”
Asha gave the young man a quizzical look. “Why?”
Erran returned her gaze steadily. “It wasn’t a hard choice, once I’d Read you. You’re smart. Honest. Loyal. You’ve been courageous, this past month, when a lot of others would have just given up after what you’ve been through. And most importantly, I saw how faithful you were to your Augur friend, back in Caladel. How determined you were to keep his secret.” He shrugged. “Knowing that, you seemed like a good fit for the job.”
Asha blushed a little and looked at the ground, not knowing what to say.
The Northwarden smiled slightly at her embarrassment, then stood, giving Asha’s shoulder a light squeeze. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I need to see whether Athian has sent someone over yet.”
Asha nodded hesitantly, and Elocien slipped out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.
There was an awkward silence for a few seconds, then Erran said, “I’m sorry about Kol.” He shifted in his seat. “He’ll come around eventually, I’m sure.”
“He looked quite upset.”
“He was,” conceded Erran. “You have to understand… I can be confident you won’t betray us, but to the others you’re a stranger who now has their lives in your hands. They’ll accept you in time, but expect some suspicion for a while.”
Asha frowned. “Can’t they just Read me, too?”
Erran shook his head. “We each have our own strengths. Mine is Reading people, but I rarely have visions of the future. The others See more, and can do other things I can’t, but they can Read perhaps one in every ten people. Only those with the weakest natural defenses.” He gave her a small smile. “You’re not in that group.”
“But you can Read me.” The thought made Asha more uncomfortable than she cared to admit. “Do you Read a lot of people?”
Erran nodded. “I’ve probably Read half of Ilin Illan, at one point or another,” he confessed. “Just about everyone here in the palace, and then Elocien sends me down to the White Sword once a week, too. It’s the most popular tavern in the city—you’d be amazed at the information you can pick up there.” He grinned. “I can’t say I dislike that part of the job, to be honest.”
Asha smiled at that. “So is there anyone you can’t Read?”
“Anyone who can shield themselves,” admitted Erran. “And don’t worry—we’ll teach you how to do that soon enough. It’s just a mental trick, no special powers required. With your training from Caladel, it shouldn’t be too difficult to learn. But I promise I’ll try to keep out of your head until you have.”
Asha gave him an appreciative nod, and there were a few moments of silence.
“So how did all this come about?” she asked eventually, gesturing vaguely after the duke.
“Elocien found me a few years ago—or Administration did, to be exact. I was living on the streets of Ghas, and some of the criminal element there got wind of my… talents. They used me for a few months, but after a while, one of them decided that the reward for turning in an Augur was worth more than what I could do. Not really the most farsighted of men.” He paused at that, rolling his eyes. “After the Administrators brought me here, when Elocien first came to meet me, I think he was going to have me executed.”
Asha stared at him. “Really?”
“He was different back then,” Erran rushed to assure her. “But I had the presence of mind to Read him before he could do anything. As soon as he realized I could get to people’s secrets so easily, I became too valuable to waste. He helped me, got me a position as a servant in the palace. In return I’d Read visiting dignitaries, lords, the Gifted Representatives, anyone who might be trying to keep things from the king.”
“You spied for him,” said Asha flatly.
“Better than death.” Erran’s tone was mild. “We weren’t friends and it wasn’t something I was proud of, but it wasn’t a bad life by most standards. And Elocien never abused the information I gave him.”
“But he only had mercy because he wanted to use you?”
“At first. But… things changed.” Erran hesitated. “I can’t say why, exactly; one of the first things he made me do was teach him to shield himself. But he’s not like that any more. When Administration found Fessi and Kol, he rescued them, gave them homes here, hid them even from the king. If someone found out, he’d be executed for treason. He’s risking his life, bringing us together.”
“He’s also getting access to your powers,” Asha pressed, unconvinced.
“True,” Erran conceded, “but he already had me. Adding the other two posed more risk than reward.” He shook his head. “I know you’ve probably heard stories about him, and some of them are probably true. But whatever he was before, Ashalia, he’s a good man now. One you can trust. I’ll swear to it.”
Asha nodded; she’d wait and see for herself, but Erran was obviously convinced. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Erran looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. “No you won’t.” He winced immediately. “Sorry… sometimes I Read people without thinking about what I’m doing. You’ll watch Elocien and make up your own mind. That’s fine. You’ll see I’m right soon enough.”
Asha nodded uncomfortably, suddenly feeling naked. She hadn’t felt anything, but Erran had been inside her head as easily as that.
“How do you manage to keep all this a secret?” she asked, as much to take her mind off her discomfort as anything else. “Surely all it would take to get in trouble would be for someone to overhear you and the others talking.”
Erran inclined his head. “I probably should have mentioned that already.” He gestured to the walls around them. “This is what we call a Lockroom. It’s shielded to all kinds of eavesdropping, both natural and Gifted—it’s what your Elders would have called Silenced. Whatever you say in a room like this can only be heard by those within.”
“Oh.” Asha looked around, but could see nothing out of the ordinary about the room. “So you always meet in here?”
“No—there are several Lockrooms, actually, all around the palace. A relic from the Gifted era.” He pointed to the doorknob. “They each have the same keyhole symbol, just above the handle. It’s worth remembering because around here, you’ll find that there is always someone listening. You should avoid even mentioning the word ‘Augur’ unless you’re inside one of these rooms.”
“Understood.” Asha shifted in her seat. “Anything else I should know?”
Erran thought for a moment, then nodded. “There’s the Journal, of course. You really should have a look at it. It’s in Elocien’s office—stay here, I’ll get it for you.”
He slipped out of the room, and only a few short minutes had passed when he returned with a leather-bound book.
“Have a look,” he said, handing it to her.
Asha flipped through the pages. Most were blank, but the first twenty or so were filled with the same elegant, precise handwriting. She stopped at a page that had been marked with several asterisks.
Vision—Kol
I was standing at the entrance to Fedris Idri, and people seemed to be fleeing Ilin Illan. It wasn’t panicked, exactly, but the streets were full of travelers with carts, horses
, anything to carry their possessions away from the city. Everyone looked worried and a few people were upset, crying. Fedris Idri itself was crowded, and from what I could tell at that distance, so were the docks. There didn’t seem to be many ships left in the harbor, though.
I listened for a while to one man arguing with his wife—he was claiming that the invaders had no chance of reaching the city, and that everyone was overreacting. His wife replied that the battle was going to take place only days away, and that if General Jash’tar was not victorious against “the blind,” there wouldn’t be time to pack up and leave once they heard of it.
The weather seemed warm but not hot. The trees lining the Festive boulevard were losing their leaves—it was probably the end of summer or maybe autumn, rather than spring.
Then a gap, followed by:
Confirmation—Fessiricia
It was night, but from where I was in the Middle District, it looked like the entire Lower District was on fire. The smoke was so thick it was difficult to see through, but I definitely saw a group of soldiers running past, all in black armor. They were moving together at the same time, perfectly in step—but the strange thing was that there were no eyeholes in their helmets, no way they could have seen where they were going.
In the distance I could hear screams and the sound of a battle. I thought it was coming from the Upper District, toward Fedris Idri—but when I started to follow the soldiers to find out more, the vision ended.
There were two more confirmations along a similar vein, one from Erran and another from Fessi. Asha’s stomach turned as she read them. “How many of these have already come true?” she asked uneasily.
“Most of them,” said Erran. “Unless something’s really important, we only tend to See a day or two into the future.” He paused, noting the page she was on. “Those ones are obviously further away than that… but they will happen eventually.”
“You really think someone is going to attack Ilin Illan? And get inside the city?”
Erran nodded. “It seems that way.”
Asha shook her head in dismay. “Do you think it has something to do with why someone is trying to hurt Wirr… Prince Torin? The timing seems…”
“Suspicious. I know,” said Erran. “And certainly, anyone attacking Andarra wouldn’t want the Gifted to be freed of the Tenets. But Elocien’s still alive and as long as that’s the case, Torin can’t do anything to change them. I would have thought King Andras was more of a threat.” He looked about to say something more, but remained silent as the door opened and Elocien walked in.
“The Athian Representative has arrived, Ashalia,” he said without preamble. “He has asked to meet you.”
Asha rose, suddenly nervous. “I’m ready.”
“Good. You can use your real name, by the way—but if anyone asks, you’re from the school in Nalean. I’ll alter your records at Administration to indicate such.” The Northwarden glanced at the book in Asha’s hand, then at Erran. “You’ve shown her the Journal?”
“Yes.”
Elocien gave him an approving nod. “Lock it back in my office for now; we’ll keep it there until Ashalia’s quarters have been arranged.”
Erran ducked his head in acquiescence, accepting the Journal from Asha with a friendly smile. “I’ll find you tomorrow sometime, show you around.” He left.
“I should warn you,” said Elocien conversationally as they exited the Lockroom, “I would not expect the warmest welcome from whomever the Tol has sent. I cannot imagine they will be pleased to be working with a Shadow.”
Asha just nodded in acknowledgement. She suspected the same thing.
Soon they were heading down a passageway into a part of the palace Asha hadn’t seen before; a minute later they arrived at a large, sumptuously furnished waiting room. A man was within, his back to them as he looked out over the perfectly tended gardens. Elocien gave a polite cough.
The man turned, studying them. He was younger than Asha had expected—perhaps in his early forties, lean and athletic-looking, his movements reminding her more of a warrior’s than an Elder’s. His short black hair showed no signs of thinning or fading to gray. He smiled, and there was genuine warmth in the expression.
“Representative Michal Alac,” said the Northwarden, “please meet Ashalia Chaedris, your new colleague.”
Michal stuck out a hand, which Asha hesitantly shook. Thus far at least, she was seeing none of the displeasure she’d expected. Elocien, too, watched the exchange with eyebrows slightly raised.
“A pleasure to meet you, Ashalia,” said Michal.
“You, too, Elder Alac.”
“Please. Just Michal. No need for formalities between the only two Athians in the palace.” Michal turned to Elocien. “Thank you, Your Grace. If you’ll excuse us, I need to go over Ashalia’s duties with her,” he said politely.
Elocien nodded. “Of course.” Once Michal’s back was turned he gave a slight, nonplussed shrug of the shoulders to Asha, then left the room.
Michal sat, gesturing for Asha to do the same. “Elder Eilinar has told me that you are here because the Council thinks it could be advantageous. That in negotiations, some of the Houses might see the presence of a Shadow as Tol Athian reaching out, showing that we aren’t above working with non-Gifted,” he said quietly. “Let me say this straight out—I don’t believe that is the reason. Not for a second. Fortunately, I also don’t care. You’re here, and you’re my assistant. As long as you do this job to the best of your ability, whatever else you do in the palace is your own business.”
Asha swallowed, but nodded. “I’ll work hard,” she promised.
Michal stared at her for a moment, then inclined his head. “Good.” He leaned back, looking a little more relaxed. “Then let’s begin.”
Chapter 20
Wirr woke and for a few blissful moments he just lay there, not quite sure where he was.
Then his memory returned. The slow, sickening realization that it hadn’t been a nightmare twisted through him.
Everyone from the school in Caladel was dead.
He lay there for a while as the truth settled deep in his chest. How long had he slept? No more than a couple of hours, probably; grief had robbed him of his tiredness for much of the night.
He focused on his surroundings. It was still dark, only the faint glow of the streetlamp outside providing the faintest of illumination. Soft breathing from the pallets on the floor indicated Davian and Caeden were asleep. On the opposite side of the room, though, a dark shape hunched on the edge of Taeris’s bed. The older man was awake.
Wirr frowned after a couple of seconds, not moving, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was wrong.
A shadow shifted, and Wirr could just make out Taeris’s scarred features. They were set in fierce concentration; his crisscrossed forehead glistened with sweat as he stared intently at something he was holding, mesmerized by whatever it was. Wirr moved his head ever so slightly to get a better view. Taeris appeared not to notice.
Wirr caught the dull glint of steel. A knife.
Taeris sat completely still, almost as if in a trance, but his expression told a different story. He was laboring, struggling against something unseen. Something that scared him. Wirr watched, keeping his breathing deep and even to ensure it sounded as if he were still asleep. Taeris just sat, motionless, staring at the knife with horror in his eyes, for a minute. Two minutes. Five.
Then, without warning, Taeris began to raise the blade toward his face—slowly, inch by inch. His breathing became shallower.
Just as Wirr was about to move, something seemed to break and Taeris’s arm dropped again. His features relaxed; he pulled open his satchel and tucked the knife away. Once he was done he lay back down on his bed, and soon his breathing was deep and regular.
Wirr closed his eyes, trying to sleep again, but the image of Taeris’s face stayed in his mind. Straining. Terrified.
He was still aw
ake when the dawn came.
* * *
Davian stared numbly at the rising sun.
“So you think he might be dangerous now?” he asked, unable to summon enough energy to color his tone with emotion.
“I don’t know.” Wirr sounded as exhausted as Davian felt. “I just thought I should tell you. The way he was staring at that knife… like he was fighting it, afraid of it… it scared me, Dav. And this might be our last chance to part ways with him.”
The knot of grief and anxiety tightened just a little more in Davian’s stomach. He’d barely slept, and those few hours he had had been filled with nightmares. Asha, screaming for him to help as she died a bloody death. Mistress Alita, the Elders, Talean, all doing the same. No matter that he knew, rationally, that there was nothing he could have done. He still should have been there.
And now this.
“We won’t survive on our own,” he said.
“Karaliene was prepared to take just you and me. If we go back now, she still will be.”
Davian hesitated. Thirdhand stories from the princess were one thing, but if Wirr had seen Taeris acting so strangely…
He glanced across at Caeden.
“No,” he said tiredly. “That’s the easy way out, but I’m not sure it’s the right way.”
Wirr just nodded, looking unsurprised and a little relieved. “I feel the same, I think—if there’s even a chance that what Taeris says about the Boundary is true, then we need to get Caeden back to Tol Athian. But we should watch Taeris closely from now on.”
“Agreed.”
There was silence for a while, and Davian glanced again over the early-morning landscape. The sun had not been up long enough to banish the sharp chill from the air, nor completely burn away the light fog that lay across the nearby valleys. He stamped his feet to warm up, looking across once again at the archway of Thrindar’s northern gate. A few people were already making their way to and from the city, but no one who looked as if they were there to accompany them.
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