“How is this an attack?”
Kara halted abruptly. “Don’t you see? He’s been stewing in his room since the Gorrani attack, for all intents and purposes imprisoned there.”
“You’ve let him out to give his sermons.”
“That doesn’t count. He knows he can’t do anything blatant during his sermons. Commander Ty is always there, ready to shut him down if he begins preaching against the Wielders or the enforcers. He’d be shoved back into his rooms and never let out again, no matter how much his followers might protest. He knows that.
“But by mentioning this . . . this vision of his today, he’s gone on the offensive again. He’s trying to undermine us indirectly, the Wielders in particular.”
Cory’s hand traced patterns on the tabletop from where he sat. Numerous blocks of wood and various stones were scattered across the table, signifying the last known locations of certain larger groups such as the Gorrani, along with Ty’s own enforcers and scouts. “How?”
“He focused the thrust of his vision on the Wielders, on us being unable to heal the ley! His parting shot essentially claimed that if we couldn’t heal the ley, the Three Sisters would quicken and destroy us all! It was a challenge.”
Cory met her gaze over the length of the table at the outburst, eyebrows raised, and she suddenly realized he wasn’t being obtuse. He already understood the implications of Dalton’s supposed prophecy. He was baiting her, trying to get her to work out the anger and aggression seething just beneath her skin.
She wanted to reach out and strangle Dalton. Instead, she sucked in a deep breath, shoulders raised, then released it in a single harsh huff. Raising a hand to the bridge of her nose, she said, “It’s been a month, Cory.” She heard him stand and round the table toward her. “Dalton knows we should have been able to do something about Tumbor by now. He’s going to use his prophecy”—the word tasted bitter in her mouth—“to convince the people that the Wielders—that I—won’t be able to heal the ley. Not without him, at least.”
Cory’s arms wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her into him, letting her head nestle in the space beneath his neck. He rested his chin on top of her head. “You don’t know that for certain.” Cory’s voice vibrated from his chest into her, soothing away some of her prickling anger. “All he did today, from what you said, was claim that the Three Sisters would quicken. We all know that’s a possibility. It could happen at any time, just like Tumbor. It could happen to any of the cities with distortions hanging over them.”
He pulled back, catching her face with both hands. “He’s trying to rile you up, and he’s succeeded. Don’t let him throw you.” He kissed her, and she allowed some of the tension to seep from her shoulders before breaking the contact and nestling back into his chest.
“It’s all lies,” she muttered, staring at the makeshift map spread across the tabletop, the pulsing glow of the planets of the orrery reflected in the polished wood.
“Are you certain?”
Kara jerked back from Cory at Marcus’ voice, and Cory grunted in frustration, shooting a dark look at the Wielder. Kara suddenly wished she hadn’t summoned Marcus and Hernande to the meeting hall immediately after Dalton’s little spectacle.
“Of course they’re lies,” Kara said curtly. “They’re all lies.”
Dierdre entered behind Marcus with a snort. “You expect her to believe, Marcus?” The black-haired Kormanley supporter—now dressed in the white clothing of a White Cloak even though she’d never been a Wielder—settled a contemptuous gaze on Kara. “She’s done nothing but denigrate and demoralize Father’s followers since she arrived here and seized control.”
“She didn’t seize control,” Marcus said in a long-suffering voice, as if he’d argued with Dierdre about this particular point before. “The Wielders follow her because she proved she can control the ley better than anyone else here when she healed the distortion over Erenthrall.”
“She didn’t do that alone,” Dierdre countered.
Marcus rounded on her. “For all intents and purposes, she did.”
“Then why hasn’t she healed the distortion over Tumbor yet?”
“You know why. If you weren’t so full of jealous fury, you’d acknowledge that.”
Cory had stepped closer to Kara when Dierdre entered and now entwined his fingers in hers between them, squeezing slightly in encouragement. The tangled threads of the friendships, loves, and betrayals woven among the four of them hung in the air, centered mostly on Marcus and Kara. Before the Shattering, Dierdre had lured Marcus away, seducing him with the promises of the Kormanley. Kara had thought Marcus had died during the Shattering. Discovering he was still alive had been a shock, reopening old wounds.
Discovering Dierdre had survived as well, and that she and the Kormanley still held him in thrall, had only ground salt into those wounds.
But she had Cory now, even though Marcus had redeemed himself somewhat when he’d rebelled against Dalton and Prime Wielder Lecrucius during the Gorrani attack.
She squeezed Cory’s hand in reassurance.
Dierdre might have responded to Marcus, but Commander Ty entered the room and halted, taking in the situation with one glance. Hernande entered behind him, along with a servant carrying a tray with a decanter of wine and an array of glasses. The servant set the tray on the table and left.
“I see we’re all here,” the University mentor said, tactfully not acknowledging the tension in the air. “I apologize for the delay. I was working with the University students.”
“I only just arrived myself,” Ty said.
“Is Dalton secure in his rooms?” Kara asked, releasing Cory’s hand and moving forward to select a chair at the table. After a moment’s hesitation, the rest of them did the same, all except Dierdre, who stood in stiff disapproval to one side.
“He is. He cooperated without incident, although the urge to smack the insolent smirk from his face was strong.”
“What happened?” Hernande asked. “Did he finally rail against his imprisonment to his followers?”
“Nothing so obvious.” Ty reached to pour himself a glass of wine, offering it to the others before setting the decanter back down and settling back into his seat.
Kara controlled another surge of anger. “He ended his sermon today by announcing he’s had another vision.”
Hernande’s eyebrows rose, but it was Dierdre’s gasp that drew everyone’s attention. The Kormanley follower swallowed and straightened under the scrutiny, then said defensively, “I thought you were talking about what Dalton said in general earlier. I didn’t realize he’d announced a new prophecy.” Her eyes hardened and grew distracted. “Neither he nor Darius said anything to me.” Then she realized they were all still watching her. “What was this prophecy?”
Kara related what Dalton had said—about the black stone, the snake, and the feral dog, ending with the Three Sisters flaring and destroying the world. “But it’s all lies. Dalton is obviously making it up to put pressure on the Wielders.”
“What kind of pressure?” Ty asked.
“Political pressure. He’s using the vision to suggest we aren’t going to be able to heal the ley network. Now, every time there’s a quake or shift in the ley, he can use it to attack us. He’s going to keep pushing until the people believe him, and then he’ll take back control with promises he can fix it himself.”
Ty grunted. “You got all of that from his little display out there today? All I heard was a warning that the Three Sisters were going to quicken and the results would be disastrous.”
“You’re reading much into his words, Kara,” Hernande said. “From what you say, he never even mentioned the Wielders.”
“He mentioned healing the ley. That’s enough.” Kara bristled at the skeptical look shared between Hernande and Ty. “You can’t honestly say you believe in his vision, can you? You know Dalt
on, Ty. You’ve dealt with him since the Shattering. You know how he thinks. This is just the beginning.”
Ty shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“She’s right.”
Everyone turned to Marcus, Dierdre muttering something under her breath before spinning on her heel and stalking from the room.
Marcus hung his head a moment before continuing. “This is how Dalton operates. He doesn’t do anything overtly. Now, it’s a suggestion. People will begin talking, he’ll let it simmer for a while, and then he’ll nudge it a little further, maybe mention the Wielders, even indirectly. His followers will make the connection themselves and the next thing you know, they’ll all believe the Wielders are refusing to heal the ley because they don’t want to lose control of the Needle and Dalton will have said nothing you can use against him to refute it.”
“All because of a damned vision he made up,” Kara added for emphasis.
“Are you so certain he lied about the vision?”
“You believe him, Hernande? Since when did you become a member of the Kormanley?”
Hernande leaned forward in his seat. “I’m not Kormanley, nor do I necessarily believe that Dalton is having visions of the future. But he believes he has visions of the future. And consider this vision. It’s more complicated than it needs to be. If all he wanted to do was plant the seed that the Wielders would not be able to heal the ley and that disaster is coming, why mention the snake? Why bring in this feral dog? He could have simply talked about the Three Sisters—if that’s what those piercing lights really represent—and left the rest of it out.”
“That’s true,” Ty said. “Why did he mention the snake and the dog?”
“Don’t forget that he predicted the attack by the Gorrani and how we’d survive,” Marcus threw in.
“As I’ve said before, I’ve always questioned that vision. He didn’t reveal it until after he found out the Gorrani were coming and after Prime Lecrucius told us he could use the ley offensively.”
“But it was rather precise,” Marcus countered. “The Gorrani attack and our response fit his prophecy perfectly. He couldn’t have known exactly how Lecrucius meant to use the ley. Not at that point.”
Ty drew breath to argue, but Hernande cut him off with a gesture. “Let’s assume for a moment that Dalton has had a vision—whether it was simply a dream he’s chosen to interpret in a particular way, or some kind of divine intervention. What does it mean? In his interpretation, he ignored nearly all its particulars, focusing exclusively on how it ended.”
They all sat in silence for a moment, mulling over the details of the vision. Kara crossed her arms over her chest and sagged back into the chair, refusing to participate. Her mind returned to the new Nexus they had managed to stabilize beneath the Needle and the nagging worry of the distortion over Tumbor.
“Based on the previous vision,” Marcus began, “I think the black stone is obvious—the Needle. The crack probably represents the chasm caused by the quake that’s split the city.”
“And, like before, the snake represents the Gorrani. It was coming from the south, and our scouts report that is where the Gorrani retreated after being routed here by Lecrucius and the ley. It’s not much of a stretch to think they’d come back again after regrouping, even though we haven’t seen any signs of such activity. But who or what does the dog represent?”
“It came from the north,” Cory interjected, “from black clouds roiling beneath three piercing lights. Any of us who’ve traveled on the plains know that there are constant storm clouds covering the Steppe and the Reaches. Could it be a group coming from there?”
Kara rolled her eyes. “You can’t trust the vision that much. The Gorrani snake came out of the auroral lights, and we haven’t seen any of them as far south as the Gorrani Flats recently. The clouds Dalton supposedly saw could mean nothing. The dog could mean nothing. It could all be nothing but the ravings of a madman.”
“A madman who swore he saw the destruction of Erenthrall before the Shattering,” Marcus said quietly, “who claims that if he’d had more faith—in himself and his visions—he could have stopped it. That’s why he created the Kormanley—not the terrorist organization bombing the city, but the peaceful sect, the one Ischua belonged to, the one Dierdre drew me into. If he’d believed in himself more, the Kormanley might have succeeded. That’s why he gathered us all here at the Needle, why he created the White Cloaks. Since he didn’t stop the Shattering, he was intent on saving those who had survived.”
“He wasn’t trying to save everyone. What about the Temerites in Erenthrall? Or the Rats and the Tunnelers? What about the Gorrani and the rest of the groups in Tumbor?”
“He couldn’t save them all individually. He was trying to save them by repairing the ley.”
Kara opened her mouth to respond, then clamped it shut. She couldn’t argue that. She’d seen what the Wielders had created here at the node, knew that if they’d been given more resources and more time, they might have succeeded.
Even if she did think that Dalton—along with Prime Wielder Lecrucius—had grown used to their power and would be loath to give it up.
The group remained quiet for a long moment. Then Cory ventured, “So . . . what should we do about him?”
“Dalton?” Ty took a sip of his wine. “We keep him locked up.”
“We can’t,” Marcus countered. “It will only make the rumors about his vision and the connection to the Wielders spread faster.” At the suspicious looks leveled at him from Cory and Ty, he added, “You know it’s true.”
“I agree,” Hernande said. He was chewing on the end of his beard, a habit that Kara found particularly disgusting. “We can’t keep Dalton away from the people. It will only further his cause.”
“Then what? We can’t let him continue to undermine us. He can’t be allowed to speak. At least not for a few weeks. He’s gone that long without speaking before.”
Hernande’s gaze fell on her. He spat out his beard and smoothed it down with one hand. “We need to counter him somehow. If you’re right, he’s trying to attack the Wielders, specifically their ability to heal the ley. If you want to convince the people that you are right and Dalton is wrong, then you need to prove that you can heal the ley.”
“We have been healing it. We’ve stabilized all of the ley lines in Erenthrall and we’ve been working on those bypassing Tumbor through Farrade.”
“No one can see those changes,” Ty said. “As far as the populace is concerned, the Wielders have been sitting idly in the Needle since the healing of the distortion in Erenthrall.”
Kara felt a hard, hot stone settle in the pit of stomach. “So what are you saying?”
“We need to do something more dramatic,” Marcus said.
Kara looked at him, then at each expectant face around the room, ending with Hernande.
She drew in a deep, steadying breath and said, “You want me to heal Tumbor now, rather than later.” When no one responded, she shook her head. “I refuse to do that. We aren’t ready yet. The Nexus isn’t ready yet. We don’t have the power we need to be successful.”
“Then you’re going to have to accept that Dalton’s little ploy today will work,” Hernande said. “He’s issued an ultimatum. Eventually, his followers will force you to act—either to heal the ley and prove yourself right, or to release him so that he can do it himself.”
Dierdre stalked through the corridors of the temple, only vaguely aware of the servants and enforcers who stepped swiftly out of her way.
“How could he?” she snarled, noting the undertone of hurt in the words and hating it. “How could he agree with her? He’s Kormanley. He’s Father’s Son. He should have argued to let Father speak!”
But she couldn’t ignore the pain in her chest brought on by the doubt and fear and jealousy that had settled over her the moment Marcus had returned to the Needle with
Kara in tow. She’d hoped, even prayed, that Kara had died in the Shattering. Or if she’d survived the Shattering, perhaps she’d been caught in the quickening of the distortion.
But when Marcus had actually found her . . .
She halted in the middle of a corridor and leaned heavily against the canted wall, head bowed. Then she straightened, shoulders back, and brushed the moisture from the tightened skin around her eyes. She’d once seduced him away from Kara and the Wielders with the promises of the Kormanley. She’d done it for Dalton, for the cause. It had taken the Shattering for her realize how deeply she’d fallen for him in the process.
Now, with Kara alive and well and apparently staying here at the Needle, she realized she’d need to seduce Marcus once again. Not for Dalton and the Kormanley. For herself.
But in the meantime, she needed to find out more about Father and this new prophecy.
She wiped at her face again and adjusted the white clothing Dalton and the rest of those loyal to the Kormanley had adopted after the Wielders abandoned it. Settled, she headed toward Father’s chambers.
Her brow creased when she rounded the corner in the uppermost tier of the temple and saw the doubled guard outside Father’s door. Of the six, only two of them were loyal to her brother Darius, Commander Ty’s second, but after a moment’s hesitation she strode forward as if she belonged there.
She halted before the two men standing directly in front of the double doors into the inner chamber. “I’ve come to speak to Father.”
“Commander Ty left explicit instructions that he was to be isolated,” an enforcer blocking the door said. He was not one of those loyal to her brother.
One of the other men spoke up. “He did say those in the inner circle could enter, so that they could question him if necessary.”
Dierdre glared at the first enforcer. “I just came from our meeting. You can verify this with Marcus or Commander Ty. I’m certain they’re still in the orrery.”
Reaping the Aurora Page 6
